Millie's Game Plan by Rosie Dean Page B

hour, then we can go and watch him.’
    ‘No we can’t. I planned on spending the afternoon at Churchill. I haven’t done their team yet and I want to get to know Marshalhampton better.’
    ‘But, Millie, what about Marcus?’
    I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Alright, I’ll drop you off at Beasley on the way.’
    ‘You’re going to leave me there?’
    ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘Millie, I need you. You’re the one with the camera, the alibi.’
    ‘And have you forgotten why I bought the camera?’
    ‘We’re already on drinking terms with Marcus – that’s surely an advantage you should be exploiting by getting him to introduce you to his mates, yeah?’
    ‘Of course. We’re going to see Marcus for my benefit?’ I gave her a knowing smile.
    ‘Well, you can’t argue with my logic, can you?’
    I couldn’t but then, she hadn’t witnessed my fantasies for the last few nights where the object of my affections had consistently been tall and fair haired with blue eyes.
    I sighed. ‘Okay.’
    We agreed to spend half an hour at Beasley, ostensibly to cement our acquaintance but chiefly so Sacha could make an impression on Marcus. Then, depending on whether or not he was taking the bait, she’d either stay while I moved onto Churchill or she’d cut her losses and come with me.
    She pulled down the sun visor to apply her make-up. ‘Go easy round the bends, Mill. Don’t want lipstick up my nose.’
    It would have served her right if I went via Basingstoke with all its roundabouts – but that would have added ten minutes to the journey.
    To Sacha’s dismay, and my relief, Marcus was nowhere to be seen. We stayed long enough for me to capture a few scenic shots, although with the sun refusing to make an appearance and the complete absence of any appealing talent, I have to say, my heart wasn’t really in it. Deanfield was made up entirely of OAPs and juveniles.
    Sacha was sighing like a deflating lilo. Mind you, if I were to discover Victor had also gone AWOL, I’d be sighing myself, soon. Despite my earlier irritation, I wasn’t completely insensitive so to cheer her up, I suggested she pose for some photos by a thicket of trees. She could tell I was trying to mollify her but after a couple of rather sullen poses, she rose to the occasion, yelling ‘Yee-hah!’ as she wrapped her leg round a tree trunk and threw her Stetson into the air. Faces swung in our direction and Sacha strutted about like a pole-dancer, wagging her backside and finally dropping over at the waist to grin at me through her legs.
    Now there’s a girl who ought to be on the stage.
    We made it to Churchill just after four. It was a lovely location and, as you might guess, built around a church on a hill.
    ‘Can we go to the pub? I’m really thirsty,’ whined Sacha, as I parked the car.
    ‘I think the sun might come out in a minute. Let’s go schmooze the lovely men. And if we’re very good, we might even be offered a cup of tea.’
    She muttered ‘Big deal’ as I put on my jolly face. This was, after all, my gig.
    Hauling my gear out of the boot, I felt a tingle of anticipation. It had been building all day and in the next sixty seconds, I was potentially going to lay eyes on my leading man. My heart was thumping, just like it did when I was twelve and had a massive crush on Toby Moreton. He was in the sixth form and could usually be spotted through the common-room window, surrounded by beautiful, sophisticated girls. He was utterly gorgeous but I knew he’d never notice a little oik like me. I was pretty perceptive for a twelve year old. Years later, I learned he was living with the History teacher, Gordon Isleworth.
    Marshalhampton were batting, but MY MAN was seated on a bench outside the pavilion. His bat was lying at his feet and he was leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped as he watched the game. The wind had stirred his hair into a softly tangled mess and I felt a primeval tug of sexual recognition