Millionaire's women - By Helen Brooks Page 0,62

gang,’ Nick said, once they had patted and fussed the sea of animals about their feet on entering the house, and had managed to go through to the garden where Catherine had decided to hold a barbecue.

‘The crazy gang?’ Cory was sitting with a drink in one hand and her other in Nick’s as they swayed in a big swing seat under a shady parasol, Catherine opposite them in a garden chair. None of the others had arrived yet.

‘That’s what the children call my babies,’ Catherine said with a severe look at her son. ‘They’re not at all crazy. One or two were a little…disturbed when they came, but plenty of love and discipline in that order soon put things right.’

‘Bertie—that’s the big hearthrug,’ said Nick, pointing to a Bearded Collie lying by Catherine’s chair, ‘used to eat paper. Right, Mum? Newspapers, magazines, books, they’d all get swallowed and digested. He’d actually take a book out of the bookcase when he fancied a snack.’

‘That was because he’d been left alone from when he was a puppy and he’d developed bad habits because he was bored,’ Catherine said protectively. ‘He soon stopped that with me.’

‘That cat, there, the black one with the white paws, only walks sideways. Like a crab,’ Nick continued.

‘She was hit by a car and has got brain damage but apart from the walking she’s fine,’ Catherine said, her tone sharper.

‘And the mutt with the big grin—’ Nick pointed to a little shaggy dog that did look like it was grinning from ear to ear ‘—starts howling if it hears music. Any kind.’

‘Yes, well, I don’t know why he does that, I must admit,’ Catherine said reluctantly. ‘But I’ve got used to it now.’

‘Mother, they’re all crackers in some way or other, that’s why you’ve got them,’ Nick said with a touch of exasperation in his voice. ‘Crazy gang is kind; I can think of more appropriate names to call them. Especially him.’ He eyed a little Jack Russell with only three legs who nevertheless was as nimble as the others and who’d nearly had Nick over as they’d walked into the house, by scooting under his feet. ‘That wasn’t an accident when we first walked in, you know,’ he added to Cory. ‘That’s his party trick. He thinks it’s great fun if he can actually land you on your back.’

‘He never does it to women, though, only men,’ Catherine said defensively.

‘Great. You’re telling me he’s a gentleman now?’

‘I think they’re all lovely,’ said Cory, smiling at Nick’s mother, who smiled back. ‘And taking the ones who really need you is brilliant. It’s exactly what I’d do if I was in a position to work at home.’

‘Don’t encourage her.’ Nick frowned darkly and then, as a big fat tabby cat with one eye missing jumped on his lap and settled itself down, purring gently, he began absently to stroke the thick fur.

Cory caught Catherine’s eye and the two women exchanged a smile.

Rosie and Geoff joined them within a few minutes, their children, Robert and Caroline, politely introducing themselves to Cory before they disappeared to the end of the garden for a game of football with their father. All the dogs joined in, one or two barking frenziedly, while most of the cats retired to the fence where they sat looking down on the antics below with consummate disinterest. It was suddenly a lot noisier.

Jenny and Rod arrived next with Pears and Peach. The two small girls were identical twins and looked angelic, great big blue eyes looking out from under shiny blonde fringes and tiny rosebud mouths widening into smiles as Cory said hallo.

‘Angelic?’ Jenny snorted when Cory said what she’d thought. ‘Don’t you believe it. They’re monkeys, the pair of them. I can’t let them out of my sight for a minute.’

Within seconds the din in the garden had increased tenfold and Jenny smiled at Cory over the top of her wineglass. ‘See what I mean?’ she said resignedly. ‘They have this effect wherever they go.’

It was another half an hour before Margaret appeared, and Cory knew instantly that the other woman had timed her entrance for maximum effect, knowing everyone would be here. She looked stunning, her hour-glass figure filling out a low-cut black linen catsuit and her red hair styled in flirty fullness about her face. Red lips and talons completed the picture of a lady who meant business.

The men were all occupied with the barbecue and the women, having brought out the salads, french

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