Foetal Attraction Read Online Free

‘You weren’t serious about the dole queues of Tory England, were you?’
    ‘I’ll get a job sorted out for you. Researcher or assistant …’
    ‘But I want to go with you on this trip,’ she whined, her taut and supple body brown against the pale sheet.
    ‘Maddy, we’re on the trail of an ivory poacher. It’s too dangerous. Hey, I’ll think of you every time I undergo a border body search, okay?’
    Alex retrieved his coat from beneath a weeks’ worth of soggy take-away cartons and rummaged through the crumpled pocket. He produced a travel folder stamped British Airways. Maddy beamed up at him. The only thing England had going for it, according to her friends, was its proximity to everywhere else. She was hoping for Prague, though Paris would do. Ensconced in his hotel room in Sydney, they’d once listed the countries they would visit together in the world, bar Iraq, Iran, Sudan, the Costa del Sol and Canada.
    He handed her a brochure. Her eyes slid hungrily through the prose seeking her destination.
    ‘The Prue Leith Cooking Course?’
    ‘A prize for all my air miles. It’s either that or a Murder Mystery Weekend in Brighton.’
    ‘But, a cooking course?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘In
England
?’
    ‘So?’
    ‘Alex, we’re talking about people who took jelly and eels and said, “Hey, let’s put them together!” ’
    ‘I just thought it would keep you off the streets while I’m away. Besides, we can’t live on tepid tandoori for ever. My head is no longer on speaking terms with my stomach.’
    ‘We’re talking about a country whose sole contribution to world cuisine is the
potato chip
.’
    ‘Hey,’ he said in mock defence, ‘you’re forgetting Spotted Dick.’
    ‘Sounds like something you’d catch in King’s Cross.’
    Alex folded her in his arms. ‘Well, I don’t have to worry about catching anything, not any more …’
    She pushed him away. ‘Except planes, apparently.’
    ‘I’ve got to work, Maddy. This is the longest twenty-four-hour flu in the whole of human history.’
    ‘I know … It’s just …’ She thumped him in the arm. ‘You ratbag. When I saw BA, I thought maybe you were taking me on a dirty weekend.’
    ‘I’m sorry, pumpkin. I will. Where would you like to go?’ He nibbled at her knicker elastic. ‘I know a cosy little spot. It goes by the name of G.’
    ‘You’re sick,’ Maddy groaned in delight.
    ‘You won’t be lonely.’ His muffled voice drifted up to her. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you …’
    But she was no longer listening. She’d have to let her friends know. The beer wasn’t warm in London at all.
    A few hours later, Maddy awoke and groped groggily across the arctic linen. She sat up, alarmed. She kicked back the quilt and hoisted open the blind. The row of houses opposite, stacked up side by side like grey cardboard shoe-boxes, seemed to be cringing from the spring sunshine. There was the sound of a key and then the asphyxiating and unmistakable smell of soggy dog invaded the flat. A massive muscle of steaming fur came hurtling at her down the hallway.
    ‘My love, this is Moriarty. While I’m away … would you mind …?’
    Maddy had mountaineered the dressing table in seconds flat. Her ‘surprise’ crouched and regarded her with a rheumy eye.
    ‘It’s all bluff. He’s an old family pet.’
    ‘Alex, this is no family pet. This is the Hound of the Baskervilles.’
    ‘He’s easy to feed.’
    ‘You just throw in unopened cans, am I right?’
    ‘It’s walk-time, that’s all.’ The dog of death strained at his leather leash. ‘Moriarty. Heel. Heel.’ Alex shrugged helplessly. ‘He usually obeys orders, honest.’ And made for the door.
    ‘Hey, and what about
my
walk-time? I’ve been cooped up in here for—’
    The door closed. Maddy poked through Moriarty’s possessions – a washable doggy duvet, a Petrodex home dental kit containing enzymatic paste and gauze pads. It seemed to Maddy that in this country,
owners
obeyed