Hubble Bubble by Christina Jones Page B

rough sleepers, you’ll make a fortune.’
    ‘Oh, ha-ha.’
    Lulu sploshed her way towards the row of whey-faced patients who, by the way they were all hunched together in the furthest corner, clearly felt that having dental treatment early on a grey and dark October Monday morning was not high on their list of priorities. Perching wetly on the edge of an uncomfortable chair, Lu wondered why dentists always had awful furniture and harsh overhead strip lighting and receptionists like Viv. Maybe it was to fool people into thinking things could only get better.
    She picked up a copy of My Weekly and shook her soggy braids out of her eyes. ‘Is Doll in yet?’
    Viv still didn’t look up from her computer screen. ‘Ages ago. She and Mr J have got an early wisdom tooth. She’ll be free then until the new dentist arrives at about ten. I’ll let her know you’re here.’
    ‘Thanks.’ Lulu plunged back into the magazine. She always enjoyed reading Mitzi’s copies when she could get her hands on them. There was always a lot of retro-1960sstuff in them. Lulu had always yearned to be a proper hippie.
    The surgery door opened. The knot of waiting patients gathered more tightly together. Ignoring them – and their collective sigh of relief – Doll grinned at her sister. ‘You’re not getting into my car like that. That coat stinks like a sewer. Why on earth don’t you invest in a mac?’
    ‘I’ll have a look through the stock when I get to work.’ Lulu gave Doll a swift top-to-toe appraisal. Disappointingly there were no telltale signs of a passionate weekend. She didn’t look even slightly ravaged. She looked, as always, neat, clean and sort of polished.
    Doll shrugged. ‘You are such a scuz-bucket! Can you just hang on there for a minute – I’ve just got to clear up a few things before Tammy takes over in my surgery.’
    At the ‘s’ word, the patients gibbered a bit more. Doll, in a swirl of pristine navy uniform and sensible shoes, vanished back towards the inner sanctum – but not before a menacing waft of antiseptic had blasted into the waiting room. Two of the patients crashed to their feet and headed for the door.
    Their escape was hampered by a very tall, very wet man trying to get in. Lulu, having exhausted the instructions in My Weekly on the best use of black eyeliner and white lipstick to achieve the Dusty Springfield look, watched with interest.
    The newcomer was certainly worth watching.
    With cropped hair, a damp leather jacket, one diamond ear-stud and a sort of beautiful, craggy, dangerous Vinnie Jones face, he was head and shoulders above any of the usual Hazy Hassocks dental patients. Lulu had an almostunfaithful-to-Heath-Ledger moment.
    Viv was still immersed in her computer, leaving the man standing looking rather lost on the cream lino tiles.
    Lulu smiled encouragingly at him. ‘Hi.’ She shook her damp braids away from her face in what she hoped was an attractive gesture. ‘You might as well sit down and wait forher to finish. They have a really weird set-up here. The receptionist doesn’t speak to her patients until she’s finished playing her patience.’
    The man gave a bit of a chuckle at the play on words and Lu warmed to him instantly. And he sat beside her. People often didn’t, especially on buses, because of the Afghan.
    Viv finished her card game with a triumphal flourish and glared at the newcomer. ‘Yes? Your name? You can’t just sneak in and sit there, you know. You have to tell me you’re here and who you are.’
    ‘Okay,’ he nodded. ‘Sounds sensible. I’m here and I’m Joel Earnshaw.’
    Lulu gave him a further appraising glance from under her clogged-together lashes. Joel – nice name. Nice voice too. Deep and northern-ish. Being none too sure about dialects she couldn’t tell if it was Lancashire or Yorkshire or maybe even Geordie.
    ‘You haven’t got an appointment!’ Viv complained after scrolling through the appropriate page. ‘Are you an