Read Online The Men in her Life by Imogen Parker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Imogen Parker
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shop-assistant kind of way.
‘It creases as soon as you look at it, and then it goes shiny and out of shape,’ Holly pronounced and Mo knew better than to argue.
‘I do like your hair,’ Mo said, as they walked towards the escalators, ‘makes you look very young.’
The haircut transformed Holly from Crystal Tipps to supermodel.
‘That’s one of the things I need your advice on.’ Holly linked her mother’s arm.
‘What’s that?’ Mo asked.
‘I think I may be getting wrinkles. I mean, how old do you have to be to start using Revlon’s Age-Defying foundation?’
‘Well,’ Mo considered the matter carefully as they glided down to the ground floor, ‘I think we should go and talk to my friend Sonya in Perfumery. But let’s have lunch first.’
They went to a crowded sandwich bar in a side street just off Knightsbridge.
‘I’ll have Parma ham and mozzarella on grilled ciabatta,’ Holly said to the nice Italian man serving.
‘What a palaver for a ham and cheese toastie,’ Mo joked. ‘Prawn and advocado, for me, on white.’
‘Mum, it’s avocado,’ Holly told her.
‘No, is it?’
‘You always say that and you never take any notice. I mean, look, where’s the d?’ She pointed at the menu painted on the wall above the counter.
‘Well, it’s Italian.’
There were some words that Mo always got wrong and it didn’t seem to bother her. It didn’t bother Holly like it used to. She had spent the first few years after leaving home trying to improve her elocution, then East End accents had become fashionable.
‘I bumped into Jack,’ Holly said, as they pushed back through the queue towards a little round table on the pavement outside, ‘he flew back to London to celebrate
‘There was something in the paper about people who said they’d leave if Labour won and people who said they’d come back — as if anyone cared what he’d do!’ Mo said. ‘Still, that never stopped him telling anyone who’d listen...’
‘Well, he is one of the most successful British film directors ever,’ Holly rose immediately to Jack’s defence. ‘I think people do care. I think it was an important thing to say...’
‘Oh well, if you say so,’ Mo said, taking a bite of her sandwich and looking at her daughter. At times, Holly was so much Jack’s child with her fiery colouring and the temper to go with it. She had exactly that way he had of swinging from pleasant to outraged in one go, with no build-up through irritated, annoyed, angry, on the way, and her blue eyes had exactly the same gleam, challenging anyone who dared to contradict her.
‘He’s asked me out to dinner with him tonight at the Ivy,’ Holly announced.
‘Oh good,’ Mo remarked neutrally.
‘Want to come? He said to ask...’ She leaned forward and took Mo’s hand across the table.
‘No, I don’t think so. Nice of him though. Send him my best...’
‘Why won’t you come?’ Holly demanded to know.
Mo was sure Holly would have stamped her foot if she had been standing up.
‘There’s a Country and Western evening at the club...’
Mo’s social life revolved around the Irish club. She taught Irish dancing there once a week and her boyfriend, Eamon, who was a postman during the day, was the bartender a couple of evenings a week.
Sometimes Holly could almost understand why her father had abandoned Mo all those years ago. It wasn’t just that she was ordinary, it was that she was so content to be ordinary. Not that she didn’t have many extraordinary qualities, she reminded herself guiltily.
‘Oh go on, you’d enjoy it...’ she tried to cajole.
‘No, and I can be just as stubborn as you,’ Mo said, wiping the corners of her mouth on a paper napkin. She never saw Jack in public. What could he have been thinking of, inviting her too?
‘Why?’ Holly demanded a better explanation.
‘I told you, I’m going to the club. There’s a Country and Western evening...’
‘Honestly Mum...’
‘You said you liked
‘It creases as soon as you look at it, and then it goes shiny and out of shape,’ Holly pronounced and Mo knew better than to argue.
‘I do like your hair,’ Mo said, as they walked towards the escalators, ‘makes you look very young.’
The haircut transformed Holly from Crystal Tipps to supermodel.
‘That’s one of the things I need your advice on.’ Holly linked her mother’s arm.
‘What’s that?’ Mo asked.
‘I think I may be getting wrinkles. I mean, how old do you have to be to start using Revlon’s Age-Defying foundation?’
‘Well,’ Mo considered the matter carefully as they glided down to the ground floor, ‘I think we should go and talk to my friend Sonya in Perfumery. But let’s have lunch first.’
They went to a crowded sandwich bar in a side street just off Knightsbridge.
‘I’ll have Parma ham and mozzarella on grilled ciabatta,’ Holly said to the nice Italian man serving.
‘What a palaver for a ham and cheese toastie,’ Mo joked. ‘Prawn and advocado, for me, on white.’
‘Mum, it’s avocado,’ Holly told her.
‘No, is it?’
‘You always say that and you never take any notice. I mean, look, where’s the d?’ She pointed at the menu painted on the wall above the counter.
‘Well, it’s Italian.’
There were some words that Mo always got wrong and it didn’t seem to bother her. It didn’t bother Holly like it used to. She had spent the first few years after leaving home trying to improve her elocution, then East End accents had become fashionable.
‘I bumped into Jack,’ Holly said, as they pushed back through the queue towards a little round table on the pavement outside, ‘he flew back to London to celebrate
‘There was something in the paper about people who said they’d leave if Labour won and people who said they’d come back — as if anyone cared what he’d do!’ Mo said. ‘Still, that never stopped him telling anyone who’d listen...’
‘Well, he is one of the most successful British film directors ever,’ Holly rose immediately to Jack’s defence. ‘I think people do care. I think it was an important thing to say...’
‘Oh well, if you say so,’ Mo said, taking a bite of her sandwich and looking at her daughter. At times, Holly was so much Jack’s child with her fiery colouring and the temper to go with it. She had exactly that way he had of swinging from pleasant to outraged in one go, with no build-up through irritated, annoyed, angry, on the way, and her blue eyes had exactly the same gleam, challenging anyone who dared to contradict her.
‘He’s asked me out to dinner with him tonight at the Ivy,’ Holly announced.
‘Oh good,’ Mo remarked neutrally.
‘Want to come? He said to ask...’ She leaned forward and took Mo’s hand across the table.
‘No, I don’t think so. Nice of him though. Send him my best...’
‘Why won’t you come?’ Holly demanded to know.
Mo was sure Holly would have stamped her foot if she had been standing up.
‘There’s a Country and Western evening at the club...’
Mo’s social life revolved around the Irish club. She taught Irish dancing there once a week and her boyfriend, Eamon, who was a postman during the day, was the bartender a couple of evenings a week.
Sometimes Holly could almost understand why her father had abandoned Mo all those years ago. It wasn’t just that she was ordinary, it was that she was so content to be ordinary. Not that she didn’t have many extraordinary qualities, she reminded herself guiltily.
‘Oh go on, you’d enjoy it...’ she tried to cajole.
‘No, and I can be just as stubborn as you,’ Mo said, wiping the corners of her mouth on a paper napkin. She never saw Jack in public. What could he have been thinking of, inviting her too?
‘Why?’ Holly demanded a better explanation.
‘I told you, I’m going to the club. There’s a Country and Western evening...’
‘Honestly Mum...’
‘You said you liked
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