Read Online Christmas at Claridge's by Karen Swan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Karen Swan
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she’d got her breath back, instantly reaching into the waistband of her leggings and pulling out a packet of
Marlboro.
‘Yeah, I felt like I had some puff today.’
‘You usually only run like that when you’re wound up about something,’ Stella murmured into a cupped hand as she lit up.
‘Me? No.’ Clem slapped the water bottle from hand to hand as if it was a ball.
There was a suspicious silence as Stella inhaled deeply before blowing out smoke slowly. ‘Come on, out with it. I can always tell when you’re hiding something from me. You’re
being far too virtuous – running, water
.
Get you, angel girl.’
Clem sighed. ‘It’s this bloke.’
‘Of
course
it is!’ Stella cried triumphantly, sliding down the bench until she was lying on her back as if she was on a shrink’s couch. ‘Tell me
everything.’
‘There’s nothing to tell, that’s the problem. I was hoping you could tell me.’
‘Me?’
‘I’ve got no idea who he is. I first saw him at yours on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Describe,’ Stella ordered, waving her cigarette around as if it was a wand and closing her eyes in concentration. One of her strongest skills was her photographic fashion memory.
She was a nightmare with faces, a disaster with names, but Stella could remember people and places by outfits. There was precious little point in Clem saying ‘ 6 foot 3
inches, dark blond, angular, big shoulders, blue eyes.’
‘Charcoal jacket with black revers, pale blue shirt, jeans.’
There was a short silence as Stella mentally catalogued the night’s outfits before firmly shaking her head. ‘Nope. Must have been another party.’
‘No, it was definitely New Year’s Eve.’
‘Uh-uh.’
‘I promise you, Stell, it was. I saw him just before Tom pushed the hat down over my eyes and Josh face-planted me.’
‘Ooh, class act.’ Stella giggled. ‘Nah, sorry babes. I’d remember someone in that get-up. The jacket sounds cool.’
Clem rolled her eyes and watched a black cab chunter past on West Carriage Drive. ‘Well anyway, I saw him again last night. He was sitting in front of us at the Electric. Came in late with
his girlfriend.’
‘Oh yes – tie-dye Marant jeans and orange pash. She was gorgeous.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Clem replied dejectedly.
‘Oh dear,’ Stella said, tipping her head back and taking in her friend’s lacklustre demeanour. ‘You have got it bad.’
‘No I haven’t. I’m just hungover. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see him again anyway. I just wondered if you knew him, that was all.’ She
took another swig of her bottle.
There was a short silence. ‘Jake was sweet, though.’
‘Yeah, he was funny. I liked him.’
‘Going to see him again then?’
‘Nah.’ Clem watched a young couple chasing after their toddler, who was staggering like a drunk across the grass.
‘Yeah, me neither. I mean, Oscar was cute but a bit young. I have a horrid suspicion he might’ve thought it was more than just a fling – he kept talking about getting tickets
to see Florence + the Machine at the Roundhouse. I mean, who said anything about
dates?
Got to make a swift exit from guys like that, I’m telling you.’
‘No good can come of it,’ Clem muttered.
‘Ain’t that the truth.’
They sat in silence for a few minutes, with just the slap of tumbling water and wobbly smoke rings for company.
‘Fancy a sausage bap?’ Stella asked after a while. ‘I’ve got evil munchies.’
‘Yeah, great.’ Clem stood up, kicking her feet out to shake her thigh muscles, throwing her arms above her head and sinking into some half-hearted side bends.
‘My treat, you need cheering up,’ Stella said, squeezing her arm fondly and propelling her along the park towards Notting Hill Gate.
‘Honestly, I’m fine.’
‘My father always said, “What’s meant for you won’t go past you.” Just you remember that,’ Stella continued solemnly.
‘Anything else your father said
Marlboro.
‘Yeah, I felt like I had some puff today.’
‘You usually only run like that when you’re wound up about something,’ Stella murmured into a cupped hand as she lit up.
‘Me? No.’ Clem slapped the water bottle from hand to hand as if it was a ball.
There was a suspicious silence as Stella inhaled deeply before blowing out smoke slowly. ‘Come on, out with it. I can always tell when you’re hiding something from me. You’re
being far too virtuous – running, water
.
Get you, angel girl.’
Clem sighed. ‘It’s this bloke.’
‘Of
course
it is!’ Stella cried triumphantly, sliding down the bench until she was lying on her back as if she was on a shrink’s couch. ‘Tell me
everything.’
‘There’s nothing to tell, that’s the problem. I was hoping you could tell me.’
‘Me?’
‘I’ve got no idea who he is. I first saw him at yours on New Year’s Eve.’
‘Describe,’ Stella ordered, waving her cigarette around as if it was a wand and closing her eyes in concentration. One of her strongest skills was her photographic fashion memory.
She was a nightmare with faces, a disaster with names, but Stella could remember people and places by outfits. There was precious little point in Clem saying ‘ 6 foot 3
inches, dark blond, angular, big shoulders, blue eyes.’
‘Charcoal jacket with black revers, pale blue shirt, jeans.’
There was a short silence as Stella mentally catalogued the night’s outfits before firmly shaking her head. ‘Nope. Must have been another party.’
‘No, it was definitely New Year’s Eve.’
‘Uh-uh.’
‘I promise you, Stell, it was. I saw him just before Tom pushed the hat down over my eyes and Josh face-planted me.’
‘Ooh, class act.’ Stella giggled. ‘Nah, sorry babes. I’d remember someone in that get-up. The jacket sounds cool.’
Clem rolled her eyes and watched a black cab chunter past on West Carriage Drive. ‘Well anyway, I saw him again last night. He was sitting in front of us at the Electric. Came in late with
his girlfriend.’
‘Oh yes – tie-dye Marant jeans and orange pash. She was gorgeous.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Clem replied dejectedly.
‘Oh dear,’ Stella said, tipping her head back and taking in her friend’s lacklustre demeanour. ‘You have got it bad.’
‘No I haven’t. I’m just hungover. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see him again anyway. I just wondered if you knew him, that was all.’ She
took another swig of her bottle.
There was a short silence. ‘Jake was sweet, though.’
‘Yeah, he was funny. I liked him.’
‘Going to see him again then?’
‘Nah.’ Clem watched a young couple chasing after their toddler, who was staggering like a drunk across the grass.
‘Yeah, me neither. I mean, Oscar was cute but a bit young. I have a horrid suspicion he might’ve thought it was more than just a fling – he kept talking about getting tickets
to see Florence + the Machine at the Roundhouse. I mean, who said anything about
dates?
Got to make a swift exit from guys like that, I’m telling you.’
‘No good can come of it,’ Clem muttered.
‘Ain’t that the truth.’
They sat in silence for a few minutes, with just the slap of tumbling water and wobbly smoke rings for company.
‘Fancy a sausage bap?’ Stella asked after a while. ‘I’ve got evil munchies.’
‘Yeah, great.’ Clem stood up, kicking her feet out to shake her thigh muscles, throwing her arms above her head and sinking into some half-hearted side bends.
‘My treat, you need cheering up,’ Stella said, squeezing her arm fondly and propelling her along the park towards Notting Hill Gate.
‘Honestly, I’m fine.’
‘My father always said, “What’s meant for you won’t go past you.” Just you remember that,’ Stella continued solemnly.
‘Anything else your father said
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