The Monsoon Rain Read Free Page B

could be. Her heart missed a beat as she hoped against hope it was Derek who was calling.
    “Answer the phone, Mum, please!”
    By the time Molly got to the phone, with her arthritic knees and hip stiffened by the trip into London, the phone had rung off.
    Miranda was so disappointed. Why had she chosen to go for a bath right then? Couldn’t she have waited a little? Couldn’t he have rung a little later? Presuming it was Derek. She was sure it was Derek, as all of her other friends would wait for the telephone to be answered and would not call off after only three or four rings. It had to be him.
    And she had missed the call.
    She sauntered downstairs for her dinner with Mum, her ear listening for the phone.
    For Molly this was the best part of the day, when she and her daughter had their meal together with Miranda filling her in about all the hospital gossip and stories. As they both chitchatted, Molly thought how she would not miss the evening meal with Miranda for the world. It was sheer bliss, the cozy chats with her daughter. And today had been an added bonus with the outing with her daughter—a very rare occurrence indeed. It had been a lovely day for her, and she felt so good.
    Molly was quite possessive about her daughter and was very reluctant to share her with anybody. Evening supper was the quality time that she and her daughter spent together. This evening was no exception, except that her daughter was very preoccupied and was not very good company. Molly was rather disappointed. Dinner was a solemn affair that evening, and Miranda was not being very forthcoming.
    “Sorry, Mum,” Miranda said. “Not feeling very well. Maybe I will go straight to bed.”
    “Shall I bring you a cup of cocoa, dear?” Molly inquired in an endearing voice as if cocoa would soothe all.
    But not this time around. When the heart was involved no amount of cocoa would soothe the yearning of a young heart—but how was Molly to know?
    “Yes, please, Mum,” Miranda replied, running up the stairs to be left alone to think her own thoughts, to think about Derek. She knew in her heart of hearts that she would be going over and covering the same ground she had been thinking about for the past twenty-four hours.
    She lay down and tried to read, but it was absolutely impossible. Where was her concentration? Exams loomed in front of her, and she knew she wouldn’t make the grades—not at this rate anyway. Her mind was straying almost uncontrollably.
    The shrill sound of the telephone rang out and broke the silence of the house. She was out of her bed in a jiffy and bounced down the stairs in her bare feet, her night dress flying.
    “Hello,” she said, breathless and excited. Oh God, let it be him! “Hello,” she repeated.
    “Miranda?”
    It was Derek. She could hardly contain herself; she was over the moon.
    “Yes,” she replied, her voice becoming slightly husky. “Yes?” she repeated again. Why was she repeating herself? Her heart was beating very fast, and she started to blush; she was relieved that nobody could see her.
    “Can you have dinner with me tomorrow?” he asked in his deep masculine voice that made her feel awfully flustered.
    “Yes,” she replied without a second thought.
    “Shall I pick you up at six?”
    “Yes.” A very quick yes, as she was at a loss for words. All that advice about playing hard to get, saying no the first time asked, acting unsure for the second, and saying yes reluctantly the third time—all of that was out the window! She had so many things to say, but she was getting a bit tongue-tied.
    Derek had assumed she would want to have a little conversation before he hung up, but Mira was unable to hold a conversation and told him good-bye and hung up. She was angry with herself for letting him have this effect on her; she should be more in control of herself. Never mind—she would have to make up for it tomorrow. She would talk and talk and talk away. Should she talk a lot or try tobe