Page 13 of The Polly Principle (The Laws of Love 2)

Chapter 4

Polly had barricaded herself in the toilets.

Sooner or later she was going to have to come out and face this frigging mess but, right now, letting her butt cool on the seat seemed like a viable alternative.

There was oodles of work to do. Mondays were like that; patients to interview, paperwork and forms to fill out, the usual disasters of homelessness and government benefits being cut—and here she was, sitting on the loo, wondering what the hell to do next.

Elbows on knees, she let her head sink into her hands on a silent groan. One small curl wiggled out of its restraints and fell over her eye. She flipped at it angrily.

How the hell was she going to deal with this fiasco? She never mixed work with pleasure. It was her golden rule. There wasnight-timePolly: figure-hugging dresses a la the good old days in Hollywood and her collection of heels—Alexander Wang, Louis Vuitton, Jimmy Choo (all purchased second-hand on eBay)—plus her itsy-bitsy Victoria’s Secret undies and a trusted pack of ribbed multi-colour condoms in her clutch.

And then there wasworkPolly: sensible slacks and shirts, no make-up, not a single curl allowed to escape. And flat pumps. Designer brands not important. Functionality paramount.

And ne’er the two would meet.

Until now.

The external door to the women’s toilet banged open.

“Polly, you in here?”

Urkkk, Judith in stalking mode.

Polly hunkered down and played possum.

“I actually know you’re here. I saw you come in ten minutes ago.” Long pause. “Poll. Are you okay?”

She’d have to say something or Judith would be scaling the cubicle.

“Sure. Never better.”

“That’s him, isn’t it? The spunky guy from the hotel? I mean, what were the odds of that happening? Like, we were out in the middle of the bush.” Judith was in the cubicle next to her, rustling down her knickers.

Polly reeled out reems of toilet paper. “Mmm. Bit weird.”

“Did he tell you on Saturday that he was coming to work here?”

“No, of course not. We were just having a casual chat.”

“Didn’t look that casual to me.” Judith giggled on a tinkle.

Polly stood and pulled her knickers up her thighs, chucking the paper into the toilet.

“You blushed, by the way,” Judith chirped.

“Did I?”

“Yes, when Death introduced him. You went all blotchy.”

Polly would have described her blush more accurately as a bag of melted pink and white marshmallows; an annoying habit her skin broke into every time she got even slightly embarrassed. She blamed it on her rag-tag mix of Irish and English genes that had homogenised somewhere back in the early nineteenth century before being packed onto a boat to Botany Bay for stealing a loaf of bread.

Somehow she’d have to brave this one out.

“It was a surprise, that’s all. One of those weird coincidences.”

“Are you sure nothing,you know,happened?”

“Jude, will you please stop? Okay, I admit, he’s cute. But we had a five-minute conversation. That’s it.”

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