Styling Wellywood: A fashionable romantic comedy (Wellywood Series Book 2) by Kate O'Keeffe Page B

for the camera. They didn't seem to be able to see beyond their noses and found themselves unquestionably interesting.
    You could sit next to one of them at lunch and end up knowing every little drama in t heir lives, but if they were put under a spotlight and interrogated about who you were they would barely be able to tell you, even if their lives depended on it.
    You see the ‘Narcis’ really only cared about themselves and consequently their conversation revolved entirely around their little group and their concerns. And let’s face it, for a teenage girl to notice this overt self-interest, they must have been Oscar-winningly self-absorbed.
    “ I haven’t heard that for years! ‘ Narcis’. Ha ha,” she laughs. “But yeah, I suppose she can be a bit self-absorbed, but she can also be really nice, you know. She runs life-coaching seminars these days. Really successful. Hold on Jess,” she says to me and I can hear her saying, “Oooh, there there,” to a now screaming baby.
    After listening to this for a while she returns to the phone, apologizing for the latest scuffle. Apparently Liam had clocked Noah on the side of the head with a wooden dump truck which Liam didn't appreciate and wasn't scared about letting all and sundry know.
    That's the thing with little kids, isn’t it? They really don’t give a damn about what others think of them. If they feel like hollering they'll just go right ahead and holler. Sometimes I think it’d be a whole lot easier if adults would behave like them. At least you'd know where everyone stood.
    “ No worries, I understand,” I reply, not really understanding and feeling irritated she’s keeping me holding on. You just can’t have an uninterrupted conversation with a new mum, can you?
    As if h earing my thoughts Laura says, “Look, it’s a little hard to talk right now. Noah, stop poking your brother in the tummy. How about you come over when the boys are asleep and I can give you my full, unadulterated attention? Noah! I said stop it!” Crashing and more crying down the phone line.
    “ Great! When?” I ask, hoping to get the reply quickly so I can get off the call.
    “ Tomorrow at eleven? You bring some coffees and I'll throw some sandwiches together. Deal?”
    “ Deal. But can we make it twelve instead? I want to play tennis in the morning.”
    I feel simultaneously suddenly nervous and excited at the thought of seeing gorgeous Scott again.
    “ Sure, the boys usually sleep for a few hours so we should be fine.”
    “ Great! See you then. Bye.”
    As I go to hang up I can hear further ructions transpiring between Liam and Noah and feel overcome with relief I'm not the one refereeing two sparring eight-month old boys.

6. Meeting Mr. Right
     
     
    When I finally arrive home it’s close to six o’clock and Mum’s in the kitchen chopping vegetables with a ferocity usually reserved for highly skilled martial arts experts. I dump my things in my floral explosion of a room, change into my comfy track pants and T-shirt, and wander into the kitchen.
    “ Hi Mum. Good day?”
    “ Oh I thought I heard you come in, darling. Yes, thanks, although there were quite a few patients full of the remnants of winter bugs today, coughing and sneezing all over the place,” she responds with clear disdain, wrinkling her nose.
    “ Well, you do work at a doctors’ surgery, Mum. Kinda goes with the territory, don’t you think?” I reply, grabbing a carrot from the chopping board to munch, avoiding her razor sharp knife for fear of losing a digit.
    “ Well yes, but I don't have to like it,” she sniffs, julienning the remaining carrots to perfection.
    “ What's for dinner? Smells good whatever it is.”
    One thi ng I can say for my mother, she’s a damn good cook and loves to experiment with different cuisines. When I was a teenager she went through an Italian phase followed in short succession by a Cajun one that nearly had me popping out of my size twelves. But thankfully she