Read Online The Cradle in the Grave by Sophie Hannah - Free Book Online

then,’ said Proust, who would have called it whatever he wanted to call it, whether it was morning, night or the middle of the afternoon.

3
    Wednesday 7 October 2009
    â€˜It’s exactly the kick up the arse I need – that’s the way I’m looking at it,’ says Tamsin, taking a gulp from her sixth gin and tonic of the evening. ‘Control freak like me, any sort of disruption to my routine has to be good for me.’ She’s started to slur her words. Her top lip keeps slipping on her bottom one, like a smooth-soled shoe over snow.
    I could sneak off to the loo, phone Joe and tell him to come and pick her up, but if I leave her unattended she’s bound to accost a stranger, and there are at least two men at the bar who look likely to have chloroform-soaked hankies in their pockets. The Grand Old Duke of York is the only pub within walking distance of work that can be guaranteed to have nobody from Binary Star in it, which is why we’ve braved the bad beer and creepy loners. Tonight, anything’s better than bumping into Maya, Raffi or Laurie at the French House.
    â€˜My life’s been too safe for too long,’ says Tamsin decisively. ‘I should take more risks.’ That’s it: no way am I letting her get the tube home. I’ll have to wait until she passes out to phone Joe. Another fifteen minutes, half an hour maximum. ‘There are no surprises – you know what I mean? Up at seven, in the shower, two Weetabix and a fruit smoothie for breakfast, walk to the tube station, in work by half past eight, running round all day after Laurie, wearing myself out trying to . . . decipher him, home by eight, eat dinner with Joe, snuggled up on the sofa by half nine to watch an episode of whatever DVD box set we’re on, bed at eleven. Where’s the spark? Where’s the dyna . . . dianne. . . .?’
    â€˜Dynamism?’ I suggest.
    â€˜Whereas now I’ve got a real challenge: no job!’ She tries to sound upbeat about it. ‘No income! I’ll have to find a way of keeping a roof over our heads.’
    â€˜Can Joe cover the mortgage?’ I ask, feeling terrible for her. ‘Temporarily, until you find something else?’
    â€˜No, but we could rent out Joe’s study to someone chilledout who wouldn’t mind having to walk through our bedroom every time he needed a wee in the middle of the night,’ says Tamsin brightly. ‘He might become our friend. When was the last time I made a new friend?’
    â€˜When you met me.’ I try to prise the gin and tonic from her grasp. ‘Give me that. I’ll go and get you an orange juice.’
    Her hands tighten around her glass. ‘You’re a control freak too,’ she says accusingly. ‘We both are. We need to learn to go with the flow.’
    â€˜I’m worried the flow might be of vomit. Why don’t I ring Joe and he can—’
    â€˜ Nooo .’ Tamsin pats my hand. ‘I’m fine . I whole-heartedly embrace this opportunity for change. Maybe I’ll start wearing blue or red instead of black and white all the time. Hey – know what I’m gonna do tomorrow?’
    â€˜Die of alcohol poisoning?’
    â€˜Go to an exhibition. There must be something good on at the National Portrait Gallery, or the Hayward. And while I’m doing that, you know what you’re gonna do?’ She burps loudly. ‘You’re going to be in Maya’s office saying, “Yes, please, I’ll take that extremely well-paid job.” If you feel guilty about earning too much money, you can give some to me. Just a little bit. Or maybe half.’
    â€˜Hey – did you just suggest something that makes sense?’
    â€˜I believe I did.’ Tamsin giggles. ‘Socialism in miniature. There’d only be two of us involved, but the principle’s the same: everything you have is mine, and everything I have is yours, except I