Mary Baker - Runaway Bride - A laugh out loud funny and feel good rom com

I had to get out.

Quietly I turned the bathroom lock to shut myself in. Then I opened the window and looked down.

Yep. It was happening. I was going to do something I’d only ever seen in films, something that twenty-four hours ago I could never have imagined myself doing.

I was going to shin down a drainpipe. In my wedding dress and wellies, like some low-budget Yorkshire remake of Kill Bill .

I eyed the iron drainpipe with trepidation. I didn’t have much time: if Mum set off right away she could be here in two hours, and I wanted to be as far away as possible by then. But I’d never climbed down a drainpipe before, and although I asked myself how hard it could really be, the ground seemed a long way off.

‘Kitty! Do you need a towel?’ Aunty Julia’s voice sailed up.

‘Er, no,’ I called back. ‘Managed to find one, thanks.’

Okay, that settled it. I needed to get out, before she cottoned on that something was up.

I turned off the taps. It might take Aunty Julia a while to work out I was gone, and I didn’t want to end up flooding her house.

Clambering up onto the sink as quietly as possible, I leaned out of the window to grab the drainpipe with both hands, my enormous flared skirt billowing over the porcelain. With a huge effort and a barely suppressed squeal, I managed to manoeuvre myself out, supporting my weight as best I could.

Still, as I scrambled down the pipe, trying not to look at the ground, it was really less of a climb than a slide. When I got to the bottom, the skin of both hands was friction-burnt and painful, little pieces of black paint dotting the palms where they’d embedded themselves in my flesh. I’d managed to tear my dress too, but that was the least of my worries.

Health to wear it, strength to tear it, money to buy another…

Money. I patted my bosom, where the £50 Jack had lent me was stashed in my bra. Thank God I hadn’t talked him into taking it back. It was all that was standing between me and complete destitution right now.

I started walking towards the road. Once I was out of sight of the house, I broke into a sprint. My plan was to get as far away as possible on foot, out of sight of Aunty Julia and any of her neighbours and friends who might recognise me, before I tried hitching another lift. Christ only knew where I’d end up spending the night. Hopefully there’d be a youth hostel or something that wouldn’t dent my £50 too much. As for what would happen to me after that, I had no idea. All I knew was, I’d rather sleep rough than go back to the place that used to be my home.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.