Read Online A Funny Thing About Love by Rebecca Farnworth - Free Book Online Page A

disappointed not to have seen Will, but Trish said he’d been called out of the office on urgent business.
    â€˜I’m sure he’ll be in touch,’ she said as she caught Carmen gazing wistfully out of the door in the direction of Will’s office.
    â€˜I doubt it,’ Carmen muttered, ‘but I guess he’ll be at Matthew’s.’
    â€˜Oh, he’ll ring you, Carmen, he really likes you. He’s always really down when you’re not in. And the kiss last night seals it, doesn’t it?’
    Although Carmen had always admired Trish’s ability to run the office, unjam the photocopier, remember to buy fresh coffee and organise Matthew, she had never placed much significance on Trish’s matchmaking abilities, seeing as Trish’s longest relationship that she knew about to date had been with her collection of cacti. Still, she didn’t want to be rude, and gave Trish a hug goodbye. Trish then insisted on giving her one of her favourite cacti. ‘This is Basil, he loves it if you sing Motown songs to him,’ she declared. ‘He likes them all, but I always feel “Papa was a Rolling Stone” is his favourite.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’ Carmen replied. Clearly Trish really,
really
should get out more.
    â€˜Yes, he needs to be free from here as well, he hates the air con, they all do. In fact, I might have to take them home, but then what would I look after?’ Trish said sadly.
    â€˜What about some tropical fish?’ Carmen suggested, reasoning that fish were pretty low maintenance and calming to watch.
    Trish fiddled with her braids. ‘Fish, I like it. I’ll write up a proposal for Tiana.’
    â€˜Can’t you just ask her?’
    Trish shook her head. ‘No, she has to see everything in writing.’
    Carmen felt that she had definitely got out of the company at the right time.
    It was only when she was walking towards Oxford Circus Tube at the, for her, unusual time of three o’clock in the afternoon that the enormity of what she’d just done hit her like walking into a brick wall. She carefully placed Basil on the pavement while she scrabbled for her phone. ‘Marcus, is there any chance I could see you? Nick’s having a baby and I’ve just resigned.’
    â€˜Oh, for fuck’s sake, Carmen! You mad bridge burner, get a taxi. I can see you for a bit before I have to do the pre-record of the show.’

4
    Marcus was riding high on success – both as a stand-up comic and now as a presenter of a Friday-night chat show on Channel 4. He had been one of Carmen’s first discoveries and they had quickly become friends, though Carmen was always aware of the client/agent divide. In a way it was a relief when Marcus left the agency, as it made their friendship uncomplicated. Carmen hoped that Marcus would have some words of wisdom for her as she was shown to his dressing room by an ultra-efficient male PA, complete with headset, walkie-talkie and clipboard. Just once, she thought, she would like to meet an ultra-inefficient TV PA.
    Because she had known Marcus pre-fame, it never failed to amuse her watching him being given the star treatment. Right now he was sitting in front of a large mirror while Tara, his make-up artist, blended foundation into his practically perfect skin. Marcus was achingly good-looking, with dark blond hair, brown eyes, and lashes so long that people were forever asking if they were fake. They were not. But under that oh-so-pretty exterior was a sharp mind and an even sharper wit, and you dismissed him as a pretty boy at yourperil. Carmen had met Tara many times and always figured that make-up artists had heard it all before and that nothing phased them, so she prepared to launch herself into her tale of woe.
    â€˜Hey,’ she said, moving a pile of newspapers and celeb mags and plonking herself down on the sofa with Basil next to her. ‘Meet the unemployed