Take a Chance on Me by Debbie Flint Page A

worries were starting to wear off. Rubbing her temples, she went out to the mini bar and glugged a whole bottle of water in one, then pressed a few buttons to listen to the answerphone message.
    Beep
. ‘Mum, Georgia’s taken my jeggings again, and, no, this time I’m not going to be calm. Oh, and good luck for tomorrow.’
    Sadie slumped down on the bed and smiled a mother’s half-smile, the one you give when your kids drive you mad but you love them anyway. The machine carried on.
    Beep
. ‘Mum, Nana started it. She told me I can wear Abi’s jeggings to the sleepover ’cos they were in the washing basket so she can’t need them, can she? And anyway they make me look like Kate Moss.
And
she’s only jealous ’cos my legs are longer than hers ’cos I take after Dad’s side and she doesn’t. And talking of Dad, he’s cancelled yet another visit, by the way. And Nana put the phone down on him – it was well dramatic! So … em … anyway, hope you’re having a nice time and good luck with the billionaire guy.’
    Beep
. ‘Mum, Georgia may have Dad’s legs but she’s got your bum, so if she stretches my jeggings again, she’s buying me new ones this time.’
    Beep
. ‘Darling, it’s your mother. Go away, Georgia, and finish your Greek. Okay German, whatever, it all sounds the same to me. Take no notice of the girls, my love, and I’m sorry they found your hotel number but your mobile wasn’t answering. I said not to worry you with arguments about
jeggings
as you’re probably preparing for tomorrow. So, if you are, don’t worry about calling us back. I told them Mummy needs to concentrate so leave her alone tonight. Hang on.
What
, Georgia? … Yes, yes,
Mum
not
Mummy …
Anyway, my lovely, call me tomorrow after you knock ’em dead, okay? We’ll survive till then. Well, I will, but poor Herb’s stressing out about the bowls match tonight. Greta is a poor substitute apparently. Oh, well, nice to know I’m missed. Bye.’
    Sadie started undressing as the machine continued to play.
    Beep. ‘
Oh, I forgot – this might please you – it’s your mother again, by the way. There’s been a bit in the
Guildford Gazette
about you winning that competition – a big write-up like that hunky journalist promised. Do you remember the nice young blond guy with the big shoulders? The one who was so impressed that someone from our little village had won something so big? I told you he quite liked you. He’s used a big photo of you accepting your marketing award in Hawaii on page five! You’d think that PR company would have issued a better one though. You can’t see your face very well actually, but it’s an impressive award they gave you, isn’t it? Don’t know if it’ll fit in that spot in the shop where you wanted to put it – we might have to move the mung beans as well as the alfalfa. Erm, what else? Your hair definitely looks better now it’s blonde. And … No, Georgia, I’m not telling her about your father now, the machine’s just beeped at me and I think it’s going to cut me—’
    Beep.
‘Sorry, darling. Damned machines. Just quickly, something to make you smile. Takings were up today – quite a bit, actually. That bit of PR seems to have helped. But I might as well tell you, I’ve got my final thousand to put into the bank account – Tom Rosebery’s secretary let me know you needed it or they’d bounce stuff. I don’t know why the silly man can’t talk to me himself. But after this last transfer I’m afraid that’s me done, my darling. It’s all gone. You’ve had yours and Helen’s had hers – well, most of it. Her nutritionist’s course wasn’t anywhere near as much as I’ve given you, but she’d just had her redundancy money even