in wide innocence. 'Emma, if I've spoiled things for you, I can only apologize—'
'There's no need to apologize, Kerry love,' says Mum. 'These things happen. And they're
both
lovely presents.
Both
of them.' She looks at my card again. 'Now, you two girls are best friends! I don't like to see you quarrelling. Especially on my birthday.'
Mum smiles at me, and I try to smile back. But inside, I feel about ten years old again. Kerry always manages to wrong-foot me. She always has done, ever since she arrived. Whatever she did, everyone took her side. She was the one whose mother had died. We all had to be nice to her. I could never, ever win.
Trying to pull myself together, I reach for my wine glass and take a huge swig. Then I find myself surreptitiously glancing at my watch. I can leave at four if I make an excuse about trains running late. That's only another hour and a half to get through. And maybe we'll watch telly or something …
'A penny for your thoughts, Emma,' says Grandpa, patting my hand with a little smile, and I look up guiltily.
'Er … nothing,' I say, and force a smile. 'I wasn't really thinking about anything.'
FIVE
Anyway. It doesn't matter, because I'm going to get a promotion. Then Nev will stop making cracks about my career, and I'll be able to pay back Dad. Everyone will be really impressed – and it'll be fantastic!
I wake up on Monday morning feeling totally bouncy and positive, and get dressed in my usual work outfit of jeans and a nice top, this one from French Connection.
Well, not exactly French Connection. To be honest, I bought it at Oxfam. But the
label
says French Connection. And while I'm still paying off Dad I don't have much choice about where I shop. I mean, a new top from French Connection costs about fifty quid, whereas this one cost £7.50. And it's practically new!
As I skip up the tube steps, the sun's shining and I'm full of optimism. Imagine if I do get promoted. Imagine telling everybody. Mum will say, 'How was your week?' and I'll say, 'Well, actually …'
No, what I'll do is wait until I go home, and then just nonchalantly hand over my new business card.
Or maybe I'll just drive up in my company car I think in excitement! I mean, I'm not sure any of the other marketing executives have cars – but you never know, do you? They might introduce it as a new thing. Or they might say, 'Emma, we've chosen you specially—'
'Emma!'
I look round to see Katie, my friend from Personnel, climbing the tube steps behind me, panting slightly. Her curly red hair is all tousled, and she's holding one shoe in her hand.
'What on earth happened?' I say as she reaches the top.
'My stupid shoe,' says Katie disconsolately. 'I only had it mended the other day, and the heel's just come off.' She flaps it at me. 'I paid six quid for that heel! God, this day is such a disaster. The milkman forgot to bring me any milk, and I had a
terrible
weekend …'
'I thought you were spending it with Charlie,' I say in surprise. 'What happened?'
Charlie is Katie's latest man. They've been seeing each other for a few weeks and she was supposed to be visiting his country cottage, which he's doing up at the weekends.
'It was awful! As soon as we arrived, he said he was going off to play golf.'
'Oh right.' I try to find a positive angle. 'Well, at least he's comfortable with you. He can just act normally.'
'Maybe.' She looks at me doubtfully. 'So 'then he said, how did I feel about helping out a bit while he was gone? So I said of course – and then he gave me this paintbrush, and three pots of paint and said I should get the sitting room done if I worked fast.'
'
What?
'
'And then he came back at six o'clock – and said my brushwork was careless!' Her voice rises woefully. 'It wasn't careless! I only smudged one bit, and that's because the stupid ladder wasn't long enough.'
I stare at her.
'Katie, you're not telling me you actually painted the room.'
'Well … yes.' She looks at me with huge
'There's no need to apologize, Kerry love,' says Mum. 'These things happen. And they're
both
lovely presents.
Both
of them.' She looks at my card again. 'Now, you two girls are best friends! I don't like to see you quarrelling. Especially on my birthday.'
Mum smiles at me, and I try to smile back. But inside, I feel about ten years old again. Kerry always manages to wrong-foot me. She always has done, ever since she arrived. Whatever she did, everyone took her side. She was the one whose mother had died. We all had to be nice to her. I could never, ever win.
Trying to pull myself together, I reach for my wine glass and take a huge swig. Then I find myself surreptitiously glancing at my watch. I can leave at four if I make an excuse about trains running late. That's only another hour and a half to get through. And maybe we'll watch telly or something …
'A penny for your thoughts, Emma,' says Grandpa, patting my hand with a little smile, and I look up guiltily.
'Er … nothing,' I say, and force a smile. 'I wasn't really thinking about anything.'
FIVE
Anyway. It doesn't matter, because I'm going to get a promotion. Then Nev will stop making cracks about my career, and I'll be able to pay back Dad. Everyone will be really impressed – and it'll be fantastic!
I wake up on Monday morning feeling totally bouncy and positive, and get dressed in my usual work outfit of jeans and a nice top, this one from French Connection.
Well, not exactly French Connection. To be honest, I bought it at Oxfam. But the
label
says French Connection. And while I'm still paying off Dad I don't have much choice about where I shop. I mean, a new top from French Connection costs about fifty quid, whereas this one cost £7.50. And it's practically new!
As I skip up the tube steps, the sun's shining and I'm full of optimism. Imagine if I do get promoted. Imagine telling everybody. Mum will say, 'How was your week?' and I'll say, 'Well, actually …'
No, what I'll do is wait until I go home, and then just nonchalantly hand over my new business card.
Or maybe I'll just drive up in my company car I think in excitement! I mean, I'm not sure any of the other marketing executives have cars – but you never know, do you? They might introduce it as a new thing. Or they might say, 'Emma, we've chosen you specially—'
'Emma!'
I look round to see Katie, my friend from Personnel, climbing the tube steps behind me, panting slightly. Her curly red hair is all tousled, and she's holding one shoe in her hand.
'What on earth happened?' I say as she reaches the top.
'My stupid shoe,' says Katie disconsolately. 'I only had it mended the other day, and the heel's just come off.' She flaps it at me. 'I paid six quid for that heel! God, this day is such a disaster. The milkman forgot to bring me any milk, and I had a
terrible
weekend …'
'I thought you were spending it with Charlie,' I say in surprise. 'What happened?'
Charlie is Katie's latest man. They've been seeing each other for a few weeks and she was supposed to be visiting his country cottage, which he's doing up at the weekends.
'It was awful! As soon as we arrived, he said he was going off to play golf.'
'Oh right.' I try to find a positive angle. 'Well, at least he's comfortable with you. He can just act normally.'
'Maybe.' She looks at me doubtfully. 'So 'then he said, how did I feel about helping out a bit while he was gone? So I said of course – and then he gave me this paintbrush, and three pots of paint and said I should get the sitting room done if I worked fast.'
'
What?
'
'And then he came back at six o'clock – and said my brushwork was careless!' Her voice rises woefully. 'It wasn't careless! I only smudged one bit, and that's because the stupid ladder wasn't long enough.'
I stare at her.
'Katie, you're not telling me you actually painted the room.'
'Well … yes.' She looks at me with huge
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