Read Online When Good Friends Go Bad by Ellie Campbell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Ellie Campbell
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jammed the pull top from a Coke can on to her ring finger.
'Veddy nice.' She faked a Yiddish accent as she tilted her hand, admiring it. 'But vot, I'm not good enough for Pepsi?'
'One day it'll be a diamond.' Ollie flopped on to his back. 'Straight up, Jen. I want to marry you.'
'That'll be the day,' she responded chirpily, to hide the tumult of fear and elation inside her. 'Do the words pigs and flying have any hidden subtext for you?'
'Why not?' she asked Georgina now. 'You know nothing about our relationship other than what I've told you tonight. How can you be so certain?'
Georgina looked astonished, unconsciously rotating her diamond ring, as for the first time that evening she struggled to find the words to express herself. 'Well, it's obvious, isn't it? However delightful and sexy he is, how can you possibly relate to a twenty-year-old, socially and intellectually, I mean. Even your musical tastes must differ? I can't imagine what the two of you talk about.' She made this last statement with a nervous laugh as Jen scowled on.
'Who said anything about talking?' Meg jabbed a skinny elbow in Jen's ribs.
'Exactly my point.' Georgina now nodded enthusiastically. 'When you're ready to have children, he'll still be sowing his wild oats.' She sawed into her glazed duck breast with sour cherry reduction, pausing to chew methodically in a way Jen was already beginning to hate. 'When he's in his prime, you'll be an old woman. Absolute recipe for disaster, if you ask me. Men are rotters at the best of times.'
Her mouth curved down cynically and for a brief moment she suddenly looked extremely weary.
'Can we drop the subject?' Jen pleaded, knowing she'd overreacted but unable to joke about this with Meg and Georgina any further. Suddenly she felt moody and depressed, perhaps she was getting a bout of PMT. With a monumental effort she pulled the conversation back to school. 'Hey, remember the way we used to volunteer poor Rowan for science experiments when Mr Isaiah, that teacher with the wonky eye, asked for assistance?'
'Yes, only his name wasn't Isaiah,' Meg laughed. 'We just called him that cos one eye was higher than the other.'
'Was I in that class?' Georgina asked.
'Of course.' Meg played with the wax dripping from the candle and stuck it into the flame. 'God, he was awful. Every experiment went wrong or blew up. And Jen used to goad him by asking, all innocent like, "Do you reckon this one will work, sir?" ' She poured herself and Jen another drink from the rapidly emptying bottle.
Suddenly Jen and Meg were batting names back and forth while Georgina looked bemused.
'. . . when that little nerd with the bottle-thick glasses locked the biology teacher in the cupboard . . .'
'. . . tennis courts flooded so they canoed on them instead . . .'
'. . . detentions all round . . .'
'. . . those rumours about Linda Petroski and six boys in the back of an old Bedford van . . .'
'Linda Petroski was like the biggest liar on earth.' Halfway into their second bottle of wine, Jen was enjoying herself hugely. 'Said she went to the Vatican to meet the Pope, sang backup with the Sex Pistols and that she was best friends with Kim Wilde.' Her eyes shone. 'Remember Mr Trance, who used to sneak off with the cutie Canadian commerce teacher?'
'Was he the one who'd have his flies undone and his hand in his packet?' Georgina perked up.
'Packet?' Jen said, puzzled.
'Pardon me, I meant pocket.' Her face turned rapidly crimson.
'Know what you were thinking, honey,' Meg sniggered,
'It really was the most grim establishment.' Georgina regained her dignity. 'Kids throwing chairs. No classroom discipline. Third-rate teachers. Daddy threatened several times to take me away and move me back to private education.'
Yeah, right. Jen could picture Georgina's perfectionist father in his pristine suit, a sneer on his dour face. His sole interaction with his daughter was to criticise and rage if she got less than As. The bastard wouldn't have
'Veddy nice.' She faked a Yiddish accent as she tilted her hand, admiring it. 'But vot, I'm not good enough for Pepsi?'
'One day it'll be a diamond.' Ollie flopped on to his back. 'Straight up, Jen. I want to marry you.'
'That'll be the day,' she responded chirpily, to hide the tumult of fear and elation inside her. 'Do the words pigs and flying have any hidden subtext for you?'
'Why not?' she asked Georgina now. 'You know nothing about our relationship other than what I've told you tonight. How can you be so certain?'
Georgina looked astonished, unconsciously rotating her diamond ring, as for the first time that evening she struggled to find the words to express herself. 'Well, it's obvious, isn't it? However delightful and sexy he is, how can you possibly relate to a twenty-year-old, socially and intellectually, I mean. Even your musical tastes must differ? I can't imagine what the two of you talk about.' She made this last statement with a nervous laugh as Jen scowled on.
'Who said anything about talking?' Meg jabbed a skinny elbow in Jen's ribs.
'Exactly my point.' Georgina now nodded enthusiastically. 'When you're ready to have children, he'll still be sowing his wild oats.' She sawed into her glazed duck breast with sour cherry reduction, pausing to chew methodically in a way Jen was already beginning to hate. 'When he's in his prime, you'll be an old woman. Absolute recipe for disaster, if you ask me. Men are rotters at the best of times.'
Her mouth curved down cynically and for a brief moment she suddenly looked extremely weary.
'Can we drop the subject?' Jen pleaded, knowing she'd overreacted but unable to joke about this with Meg and Georgina any further. Suddenly she felt moody and depressed, perhaps she was getting a bout of PMT. With a monumental effort she pulled the conversation back to school. 'Hey, remember the way we used to volunteer poor Rowan for science experiments when Mr Isaiah, that teacher with the wonky eye, asked for assistance?'
'Yes, only his name wasn't Isaiah,' Meg laughed. 'We just called him that cos one eye was higher than the other.'
'Was I in that class?' Georgina asked.
'Of course.' Meg played with the wax dripping from the candle and stuck it into the flame. 'God, he was awful. Every experiment went wrong or blew up. And Jen used to goad him by asking, all innocent like, "Do you reckon this one will work, sir?" ' She poured herself and Jen another drink from the rapidly emptying bottle.
Suddenly Jen and Meg were batting names back and forth while Georgina looked bemused.
'. . . when that little nerd with the bottle-thick glasses locked the biology teacher in the cupboard . . .'
'. . . tennis courts flooded so they canoed on them instead . . .'
'. . . detentions all round . . .'
'. . . those rumours about Linda Petroski and six boys in the back of an old Bedford van . . .'
'Linda Petroski was like the biggest liar on earth.' Halfway into their second bottle of wine, Jen was enjoying herself hugely. 'Said she went to the Vatican to meet the Pope, sang backup with the Sex Pistols and that she was best friends with Kim Wilde.' Her eyes shone. 'Remember Mr Trance, who used to sneak off with the cutie Canadian commerce teacher?'
'Was he the one who'd have his flies undone and his hand in his packet?' Georgina perked up.
'Packet?' Jen said, puzzled.
'Pardon me, I meant pocket.' Her face turned rapidly crimson.
'Know what you were thinking, honey,' Meg sniggered,
'It really was the most grim establishment.' Georgina regained her dignity. 'Kids throwing chairs. No classroom discipline. Third-rate teachers. Daddy threatened several times to take me away and move me back to private education.'
Yeah, right. Jen could picture Georgina's perfectionist father in his pristine suit, a sneer on his dour face. His sole interaction with his daughter was to criticise and rage if she got less than As. The bastard wouldn't have
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