Read Online What My Best Friend Did by Lucy Dawson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lucy Dawson
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around plotting together was the kind of thing Vic and I usually did. Not in a members’ club, obviously.
“I think he’s got a girlfriend,” I said, although I was with her on that one; he was pretty beautiful.
Gretchen smiled naughtily. “I’m sure she could lend him out for the night. Tell you what, let’s get a bottle.” She looked up for a waiter and then, as he began to approach, said, “We don’t want to be the first ones there. Now, dish the dirt about the fashion mags. You must have had some funny things happen?”
An hour and a half later we were still talking. Eased along by the booze, we had started to open up to each other a bit and were beginning to trade stories about ourselves. I had just burst out laughing so loudly at something she’d said, several people had turned around and looked at us.
“I’m being serious!” She grinned delightedly at my reaction and swatted my arm.
“Of course you were.” I chuckled and placed a hand on my stomach. “Sorry. Carry on with what you were saying.” I wiped an eye and steadied myself.
“My point was, you did just know you wanted to be a photographer,” Gretchen said. “See?”
“But who just falls in to hosting a TV show? I don’t get it.”
“I swear to God it’s the truth,” Gretchen said. “I honestly never really wanted to do all this in the first place. If Mum hadn’t shoved me into it, I probably would have just quite happily pratted around in a band at a university or something and that would have been as far as it went. That was the bit I really liked, you see. Singing.”
Just as she finished her sentence, my mobile lit up on the table. I saw “Dad” flash up on the screen.
“Sorry, Gretchen, would you mind if I just take this very quickly? It’s my father—he practically never uses his mobile, so it must be an emergency.”
“Not at all. Go for it.” She sat up straighter in her chair, interested.
“Everything OK, Dad?” I said, picking up.
“No, it’s bloody well not. Have you borrowed the car?”
What? “Your car?” I asked, completely baffled. “Why on earth would I have your car? I’m in London! You do know I haven’t lived at home for about eight years or so, don’t you?”
Gretchen looked amused, which absurdly, for a second, made me feel pleased. Then I remembered, at twenty-eight I was a little old to be showing off in front of new friends. Dad didn’t laugh either. “Hmph,” he said. “Well, I didn’t really think it would be you, you’re the only bloody sensible one, but I’ve just got back from a walk with the dog and it’s gone.”
“The car or the dog?” I said, trying to focus.
“The car!” he said impatiently. “I’m actually standing in the space where it should be. Your mother took her car to go shopping, and Frances doesn’t even drive, which means either it’s been stolen or that little no-good brother of yours has come home and swiped it. Have you spoken to him today?”
“No,” I replied, “Mum did say he might be coming back to you from uni this weekend, though. Dad, can I call you back? It’s just I’m—”
“I knew it!” he cut across me. “Bloody boy!”
Then he hung up.
I shook my head in disbelief and slid the phone on to the table. “Sorry about that. My dad’s having a trying day.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Gretchen said airily. “My mum’s been having a trying day for the last fifteen-odd years. Parents, eh? Who’d have ‘em?” She grinned and took a large slug of her drink.
“So,” I picked up the threads of conversation again, “where were we? How’s your campaign to conquer the States going, by the way?”
“Oh, I doubt anything will come of that.” She waved a hand dismissively. “It was my agent’s idea—create a bit of false buzz, make it look like everyone wants me … people only chase things they think someone else wants, it’s human nature. I don’t really want to move to the other side of the planet much
“I think he’s got a girlfriend,” I said, although I was with her on that one; he was pretty beautiful.
Gretchen smiled naughtily. “I’m sure she could lend him out for the night. Tell you what, let’s get a bottle.” She looked up for a waiter and then, as he began to approach, said, “We don’t want to be the first ones there. Now, dish the dirt about the fashion mags. You must have had some funny things happen?”
An hour and a half later we were still talking. Eased along by the booze, we had started to open up to each other a bit and were beginning to trade stories about ourselves. I had just burst out laughing so loudly at something she’d said, several people had turned around and looked at us.
“I’m being serious!” She grinned delightedly at my reaction and swatted my arm.
“Of course you were.” I chuckled and placed a hand on my stomach. “Sorry. Carry on with what you were saying.” I wiped an eye and steadied myself.
“My point was, you did just know you wanted to be a photographer,” Gretchen said. “See?”
“But who just falls in to hosting a TV show? I don’t get it.”
“I swear to God it’s the truth,” Gretchen said. “I honestly never really wanted to do all this in the first place. If Mum hadn’t shoved me into it, I probably would have just quite happily pratted around in a band at a university or something and that would have been as far as it went. That was the bit I really liked, you see. Singing.”
Just as she finished her sentence, my mobile lit up on the table. I saw “Dad” flash up on the screen.
“Sorry, Gretchen, would you mind if I just take this very quickly? It’s my father—he practically never uses his mobile, so it must be an emergency.”
“Not at all. Go for it.” She sat up straighter in her chair, interested.
“Everything OK, Dad?” I said, picking up.
“No, it’s bloody well not. Have you borrowed the car?”
What? “Your car?” I asked, completely baffled. “Why on earth would I have your car? I’m in London! You do know I haven’t lived at home for about eight years or so, don’t you?”
Gretchen looked amused, which absurdly, for a second, made me feel pleased. Then I remembered, at twenty-eight I was a little old to be showing off in front of new friends. Dad didn’t laugh either. “Hmph,” he said. “Well, I didn’t really think it would be you, you’re the only bloody sensible one, but I’ve just got back from a walk with the dog and it’s gone.”
“The car or the dog?” I said, trying to focus.
“The car!” he said impatiently. “I’m actually standing in the space where it should be. Your mother took her car to go shopping, and Frances doesn’t even drive, which means either it’s been stolen or that little no-good brother of yours has come home and swiped it. Have you spoken to him today?”
“No,” I replied, “Mum did say he might be coming back to you from uni this weekend, though. Dad, can I call you back? It’s just I’m—”
“I knew it!” he cut across me. “Bloody boy!”
Then he hung up.
I shook my head in disbelief and slid the phone on to the table. “Sorry about that. My dad’s having a trying day.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Gretchen said airily. “My mum’s been having a trying day for the last fifteen-odd years. Parents, eh? Who’d have ‘em?” She grinned and took a large slug of her drink.
“So,” I picked up the threads of conversation again, “where were we? How’s your campaign to conquer the States going, by the way?”
“Oh, I doubt anything will come of that.” She waved a hand dismissively. “It was my agent’s idea—create a bit of false buzz, make it look like everyone wants me … people only chase things they think someone else wants, it’s human nature. I don’t really want to move to the other side of the planet much
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