Read Online Coconuts and Wonderbras by Lynda Renham - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lynda Renham
Ads: Link
club said he heard that Bryant was signing with Randal and Hobson. Jolly good show. He’s an ex-military man you know. Excellent book.’
I am stupidly speechless.
‘Quite the heart-throb,’ says mum, leaning over dad and literally drooling over the photo of Alex Bryant. ‘Now, he would be a good catch for you…’ she trails off after giving me a fleeting look.
I stand up.
‘If only I wasn’t so fat, right? Well, Alex Bryant is an egocentric know-it-all and he is not fit to wipe my arse. He is nothing but a wanker,’ I fume, remembering the upset he had caused the night before.
I storm from the room.
‘I can’t think what possessed you to buy his book,’ I call over my shoulder.
‘Libby dear, we didn’t bring you up in Essex you know,’ exclaims mother.
‘Oh dear,’ groans dad.
‘They have obviously signed him at Hobsons then,’ says mother loudly as I crash around in the kitchen.
I hack at the strawberry pavlova imagining it is his head. I storm back in with three dishes.
‘I’m thinking of waitressing,’ I state bluntly, slamming the dishes onto the table. Mother winces and dad mumbles, ‘Lovely dear, you’ll look nice in one of those aprons with the frills.’
‘I would think most women would consider Alex Bryant more than fit enough to wipe their arse. In fact, he can wipe my…’
‘Mother, please…’
I hand her my dish and watch her pour double cream over the pavlova. I really should ask for yogurt I suppose. Why isn’t there a pill that would just magically spirit away the fat, this is the twenty-first century after all. Honestly, of all the places where I felt sure I could forget about the wanker it was at my parents and here is my mother, frothing at the mouth over him. I decide it is best to drop the subject before she orgasms over the After Eight mints. How can I ever be expected to stick to my diet when everyone keeps talking about my love life, or rather the lack of it? I shamelessly help myself to another serving of pavlova and wash it down with more wine. There is silence until dad says,
‘You’ll need hygiene training, health and safety and all that rot.’
Mother and I stare at him. Surely he’s not talking about Alex Bryant and the wiping of my arse?
‘If you’re going to be a waitress, you’ll need hygiene training.’
Ah, yes of course. The thing is, do I really want to waitress? I would most certainly struggle to pay the rent on a waitressing salary. I would have to move into some dingy flat in the worst part of Fross, probably ending up next door to the sex shop. At least I would only have to pop next door for a new Orlando the next time he blows up on me. I groan and broach the subject of rent. I explain about the psychic and how I had forgotten about it being winter and putting money away for heating. Mother is terribly sympathetic and mumbles something about how economical an Aga would be while pushing two fifty-pound notes into my hand, whispering ‘ don’t mention this to your father .’ Of course, I don’t, and when he pushes another two into my hand at the front door I take them gratefully. Apart from the jetting off to the back of beyond and leaving me all alone over Christmas, they’re not bad parents after all.
Chapter Six
Issy told me in no uncertain terms that I couldn’t possibly be a waitress, and she is quite right of course. It would be a dieting nightmare taking orders for wonderful cheesecakes, chocolate fudge cakes, sticky toffee puddings… I am sure that even thinking about these things makes me put on weight. And Hobnobs is not so bad. The pay is quite good, and I do meet some interesting people. Well, most of the time anyway. It has been well over a week since Alex Bryant came to the office. I am starting to wonder if he has changed his mind and that Jamie is too embarrassed to tell me. Mind you, he is besotted with
I am stupidly speechless.
‘Quite the heart-throb,’ says mum, leaning over dad and literally drooling over the photo of Alex Bryant. ‘Now, he would be a good catch for you…’ she trails off after giving me a fleeting look.
I stand up.
‘If only I wasn’t so fat, right? Well, Alex Bryant is an egocentric know-it-all and he is not fit to wipe my arse. He is nothing but a wanker,’ I fume, remembering the upset he had caused the night before.
I storm from the room.
‘I can’t think what possessed you to buy his book,’ I call over my shoulder.
‘Libby dear, we didn’t bring you up in Essex you know,’ exclaims mother.
‘Oh dear,’ groans dad.
‘They have obviously signed him at Hobsons then,’ says mother loudly as I crash around in the kitchen.
I hack at the strawberry pavlova imagining it is his head. I storm back in with three dishes.
‘I’m thinking of waitressing,’ I state bluntly, slamming the dishes onto the table. Mother winces and dad mumbles, ‘Lovely dear, you’ll look nice in one of those aprons with the frills.’
‘I would think most women would consider Alex Bryant more than fit enough to wipe their arse. In fact, he can wipe my…’
‘Mother, please…’
I hand her my dish and watch her pour double cream over the pavlova. I really should ask for yogurt I suppose. Why isn’t there a pill that would just magically spirit away the fat, this is the twenty-first century after all. Honestly, of all the places where I felt sure I could forget about the wanker it was at my parents and here is my mother, frothing at the mouth over him. I decide it is best to drop the subject before she orgasms over the After Eight mints. How can I ever be expected to stick to my diet when everyone keeps talking about my love life, or rather the lack of it? I shamelessly help myself to another serving of pavlova and wash it down with more wine. There is silence until dad says,
‘You’ll need hygiene training, health and safety and all that rot.’
Mother and I stare at him. Surely he’s not talking about Alex Bryant and the wiping of my arse?
‘If you’re going to be a waitress, you’ll need hygiene training.’
Ah, yes of course. The thing is, do I really want to waitress? I would most certainly struggle to pay the rent on a waitressing salary. I would have to move into some dingy flat in the worst part of Fross, probably ending up next door to the sex shop. At least I would only have to pop next door for a new Orlando the next time he blows up on me. I groan and broach the subject of rent. I explain about the psychic and how I had forgotten about it being winter and putting money away for heating. Mother is terribly sympathetic and mumbles something about how economical an Aga would be while pushing two fifty-pound notes into my hand, whispering ‘ don’t mention this to your father .’ Of course, I don’t, and when he pushes another two into my hand at the front door I take them gratefully. Apart from the jetting off to the back of beyond and leaving me all alone over Christmas, they’re not bad parents after all.
Chapter Six
Issy told me in no uncertain terms that I couldn’t possibly be a waitress, and she is quite right of course. It would be a dieting nightmare taking orders for wonderful cheesecakes, chocolate fudge cakes, sticky toffee puddings… I am sure that even thinking about these things makes me put on weight. And Hobnobs is not so bad. The pay is quite good, and I do meet some interesting people. Well, most of the time anyway. It has been well over a week since Alex Bryant came to the office. I am starting to wonder if he has changed his mind and that Jamie is too embarrassed to tell me. Mind you, he is besotted with
Similar Books
