Read Online Amanda's Wedding by Jenny Colgan - Free Book Online Page B

and the wall managed to be both, with the help of the type of nasty border normally only seen in motorway hotels. There were frilly things everywhere – tie-backs, potpourri holders, ornamental pigs. It looked like the wet dream of a seven-year-old girl.
    â€˜Wow,’ said Fran, picking up the matching brush set from the glass top of the dressing table, under which rested a doily. ‘Miss Havisham’s cleaning rota’s certainly improved.’
    I couldn’t see the parcel I was looking for and headed towards the cupboard. Fran picked up one of the Laura Ashley pinafore numbers Linda favoured and flounced round the room singing, ‘I’m Linda, and I couldn’t be sorrier for breathing! Sorry, please pay some rent, how about five pence a month? I’m just going out now – oh, of course, I never do …’ I grimaced.
    Suddenly, the phone rang. We both jumped out of our skins, as if we’d been caught doing something very wrong. Which, of course, we had.
    â€˜You answer it!’ I hissed, absurdly, to Fran, and snatched the dress off her. Wrong-footed, she did as she was told.
    I went to hang the dress back up and, as I did, I noticed the box peeping out of the back of the cupboard. Feeling thoroughly low, I picked it up anyway.
    Inside there was layer upon layer of chocolate:everything from little Flyte bars to enormous, one-acre Galaxys, and those huge Toblerones you can only get in Duty Free. Some were just empty wrappers, strewn about in a most uncharacteristic manner.
    â€˜Chuffing hell!’ I exclaimed, as Fran walked back in.
    â€˜How did you know that was Nicholas from all the way in here?’
    â€˜Look at all this!’
    â€˜Oh my God. Eating disorder city. Jesus!’
    â€˜I know. She just gets fatter and fatter. She must eat in secret all the time.’
    â€˜What are you going to do?’
    â€˜What am I going to do? Oh, take full responsibility for it, obviously. I don’t know! We don’t even say good morning!’
    We looked at each other.
    On the overwrought bedside table, beside the crocheted tissue-box cover, there was only one picture, of Linda – a chubby child – standing next to a vicious-looking pony.
    Oh God, what was I going to do – mention it to her? D’oh! What did advice columns say? Leave some handy leaflets lying about. I didn’t know if they did ones that said, ‘We were snooping in your room and found something you’re obviously desperately trying to hide.’ Go down the pub? I tried to judge a tasteful length of time before suggesting this. Fran gave me a look that plainly told me it wasn’t long enough.
    â€˜Huh? Sorry, I was just thinking about Linda.’
    â€˜So what do you think we should …’
    â€˜I have absolutely no idea.’
    Pause.
    â€˜I suppose I could try and be nicer to her,’ I offered.
    â€˜Well, you do live together.’
    â€˜So do you, practically, and you’re not nice to anyone.’
    â€˜That’s because most people are boring. But Linda’s like, you know, sick .’
    â€˜OK, OK already.’
    I hoisted myself up and went and tackled some of Alex’s and my washing-up. Well, it was a start.
    â€˜So, ehm, that was Nicholas on the phone then?’
    And not, say, Alex (who was out buying furniture), having had a big change of heart and begging me to move with him to Fulham.
    â€˜Yes. You appear to be in demand.’
    Well, hooray!
    â€˜However, I told him you weren’t available, so he asked me out instead.’
    Boo! OK, I may have despised the guy, but I’d like to think he could tell me apart from other members of the same species.
    â€˜Huh. Did you say yes?’
    â€˜What do you think?’
    â€˜I think you said yes, you would smoochily love him forever and ever, and did he have any more of his hilarious accounting stories?’
    â€˜Oh, and also he said you may have to test for some