Carry You. Beth Thomas

Чтение книги онлайн.

       FIVE

       Daisy Mack

      is so used to getting lost, you’d think I’d be better at it by now.

      Daisy Mack Actually, getting lost I can do. It’s what I’m good at. If you ever need to get lost, come and see me. Oh, if you can find me, that is.

      Jenny Martin What the hell is going on with you, Dozy-Doo?

      Georgia Ling Lol! xx

      Suzanne Allen Where are you now? What can you see?

      Abby Marcus Pay no attention Suze, she’s on the sofa, watching Rotting Hell.

      I don’t know why Abby’s put that. She likes Notting Hill as much as I do.

      No she doesn’t. What am I thinking of? Of course she doesn’t. No one does. Richard Curtis doesn’t like Notting Hill as much as I do.

      Anyway, I think I deserve this relaxing little interlude. It’s been a very strenuous few days since I marched rapidly away from Wheelbarrow Man on Tuesday and got myself instantly and completely lost. I’ve been out walking every day since then, and that was five days ago. I must have covered at least ten miles every day, which is fifty miles all together. Bloody hell, I could actually have walked to Bluewater shopping centre. Could have had a Subway of the Day. Tried on shoes. Bought tights.

      Julia Roberts is arguing for the last brownie. I pause the film at this point because Abby has just come and sat down near my feet and is staring at me pointedly. She looks like she wants to have a serious talk with me about something. I wonder what on earth it could be. Any ideas anyone? Answers on a postcard …

      ‘Daze, we need to have a serious talk about your training plan.’

      Ding ding ding – correct answer, you’re a winner!

      I smile and nod. ‘Yeah, I know.’

      ‘Do you? Because I’m still not convinced you’re completely aware of how much work there is left to do.’

      She’s entirely wrong there. Why on earth else does she think I’ve been walking so much? I’ve been like a walking demon this week, out every day, marching down to the park, marching around the park, marching backwards and forwards across the park, marching around the park again, becoming so familiar with the park and all its entrances and exits and all the housing estates that border it that I’ll never ever get lost again. It’s quite surprising really that, in all that marching down to, and through, and round and round the park and its environs, I never bumped into that man again. Or actually, I suppose I could have seen him again, I really wouldn’t know. I can barely remember what he looked like, except that he was holding something, I think. What was that again? Some kind of statue, was it? Or a bicycle? I can’t remember, it’s all gone.

      I’ve also never seen that woman with the ponytail again, the one who walked like her and moved like her and looked like her. It doesn’t matter. It’s not as if I was looking for her.

      Anyway, the point is that I have done some pretty substantial walking this week, whatever Abs might think, and I’m proud of myself. I’d like to see her cover ten miles a day. On foot, obviously – she does far more than ten miles every day in her car of course. I know that for a fact. She gave me a lift into town once when my car was off the road, and the only problem was I had to sit in the back while she gave a lesson first. It was only an hour, and it probably would have taken me that long to get the bus anyway, so I went with it. I had never seen her with a client before, and I was really surprised at how flirty she was with him, a lad of about nineteen or twenty. There was a lot of, ‘Oh hi there, Justin, OK, first gear to pull away, you look good today, braking carefully towards the junction, don’t you smell nice, what is that, Calvin Klein? Red light, Justin, red light.’ I sat in the back and rolled my eyes, and they kept on rolling for the entire sixty minutes. I felt a bit sick by the end of it.

      ‘What the hell was all that about?’ I asked her, once Justin had parallel parked (badly) to gushing praise from Abs (‘Oh well done, Justin, I’ve never seen such a beginner do it as well as that, you’re a natural’ – forget the fact he needed to get the bus to the kerb) and got out.

      ‘All what?’ she said easily, flipping down the sun visor and checking her appearance in the little mirror. She didn’t do anything to her face, like touch up her lipgloss or rub away mascara smudges like the rest of us have to, she just looked, scrutinised, turned slightly left, slightly right, once more in the centre, and was satisfied.

      ‘Yeah, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You know exactly what I’m talking about.’ I affected a high breathy voice. ‘“Ooh, Justin, look at your bulging muscles; ooh, Justin, you smell so delicious I could just eat you all up.” You were blatantly flirting with him, Abs! It’s outrageous! He must be all of eighteen!’

      ‘He’s twenty, Daze – in a couple of months – and stop looking so scandalised. This is me you’re talking to. I know you’re not that innocent, remember?’

      She was right about that. Before I moved back in with Mum and Graham three years ago, I used to work in an office, processing food orders for СКАЧАТЬ