Girls Night Out 3 E-Book Bundle. Gemma Burgess

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СКАЧАТЬ you OK? What the hell happened with Joe? Let’s get out of here!’ exclaims Plum, bursting out of the pub and onto the pavement. ‘Can I have my phone back? Like, six guys want to ask me out! I’m saying no, of course. My heart belongs to Dan.’

      ‘Plum’s here,’ I tell Robert.

      ‘Good. I’m late to meet your sister and Luke for a house-warming party. Why don’t you come and join us?’ he says.

      ‘Maybe later, I have to talk to my homeboys,’ I hang up and turn to Plum, who is having trouble lighting a cigarette through the ecstatic smile on her face. See what I meant about the victori ous circle of self-assurance?

      ‘Hey chicks,’ says Henry, following her out with Charlotte by his side. ‘Would you stop running off and leaving us alone? You’re giving us a complex. That was shit, by the way. I don’t know why I let you talk me into it.’

      ‘Let’s get out of here,’ I say. ‘Anyone want to go for a few drinks? My shout.’

       Chapter Nineteen

      Speed dating left us all with post-traumatic euphoria. We found a new bar around the corner, took over a table and started to tell dating stories. Plum and I pressed olives in our cheeks and did our Stockard Channing imitations, Henry told a story about a friend of his who had a weekend in Ibiza that started with a small glass of white wine on the flight over and ended in being airlifted out by helicopter.

      ‘I’ve never been to Ibiza,’ said Charlotte shyly. She’s completely out of her shell; Henry’s puppyish openness seems to reassure her.

      ‘Neither have I,’ said Henry. ‘We’ll go together. What’s your favourite place to go on holiday?’

      They’ve been flirting a lot. Henry is following Robert’s just-make-conversation tip, and Charlotte is twinkling back. Plum is in brilliant form, and I’ve laughed so much that my face is aching. Even the inevitable discussion about Peter doesn’t upset me.

      ‘Now’s the time to tell you, I never liked the guy,’ says Henry.

      ‘But . . . I thought that you got along!’ I say. ‘You always came over for dinner, and we watched rugby together . . .’

      ‘We did get along,’ he says. ‘But we were friendly. Not friends.’

      ‘You’re way out of his league,’ agrees Plum. ‘You smile so much more now.’

      I put a small black olive over my incisor and grin at them all. There’s no point in talking about Peter. Or his brother. Who cares about the affair? I am bulletproof. Nothing affects me.

      Another text arrives from Jon, the blind date guy.

      Hey! Just checking you got my text earlier. I had an awesome night. Would really love to do it again. Jon

      Delete, ignore, continue. To hell with karma.

      And now we’re at the housewarming. It’s in a top floor flat in Notting Hill, and you can hear the party from the street before you even get in.

      ‘Raise the roof, raise the roof,’ sings Henry as we walk up the stairs, and does a little dance. Plum, Charlotte and I fall against the wall giggling.

      As we walk in, the first person I see is Robert, propped in a doorframe with his arms folded, talking to a blonde girl wearing, frankly, way too many sequins.

      ‘Survive, did you?’ he calls to me, turning away from her.

      ‘Just,’ I say, and turn around to help the others with the wine that we picked up from the off-licence. Charlotte and Henry have already charged into the overcrowded kitchen, and Plum is talking to the guy who opened the front door for us. I turn back to Robert, and see the girl he was talking to gazing at the back of his head balefully, before stalking quickly down the corridor.

      ‘Your sequinned blonde is leaving,’ I say in a low voice, walking over to him.

      ‘She’ll be back,’ he says. ‘Come on, let’s find your sister. She’s pretty hammered.’

      ‘Thank you for tonight,’ I say. ‘Especially the Peter thing.’

      He grins. ‘Enough with the thank yous. I’ve had experience in dealing with similar revelations.’

      As we walk into the living room I’m hit by a tsunami of happy, party noise. There’s about sixty or seventy people in here drinking, whooping, dancing, smoking, laughing or shouting over each other. The music is turned up full blast and half the crowd is wearing wigs and sunglasses for no apparent reason.

      It’s not one of those parties where everyone looks to see who you are and then dismisses you. It’s a party where you walk in and immediately feel like laughing for the delightful indulgent silliness of it all. I also immediately identify five girls wearing outfits I want to copy.

      ‘I was going to introduce you to everyone,’ says Robert. ‘But I think we’re one drink too late for that.’

      We smile at each other for a second, but I’m quickly distracted by a guy charging into the wall next to me in an attempt to walk up it, à la Donald O’Connor’s ‘Make ’Em Laugh’ routine from Singing in the Rain. It fails miserably, and he crashes noisily to the floor.

      ‘Are you alright?’ I ask, leaning over him gingerly.

      ‘Did anyone see?’ he squeaks through his armpit, which is somehow over his face.

      ‘Um . . .’ I’m not sure what to say.

      ‘That’s JimmyJames,’ Robert tells me. ‘He’ll do anything for attention . . .’

      ‘I will NOT do anything for attention,’ says JimmyJames from the floor. ‘I draw the line at nuns and dogs.’

      He grabs Robert’s proffered hand and pulls himself up with a bounce. Jimmy, I can now see, was built for power, not for speed. Or climbing up walls. He’s about my height and barrel-shaped, with scruffy brown hair.

      Before I can reply, or ask why he’s called JimmyJames for that matter, I’m distracted by a shout behind me. ‘Sistaaaah!’

      I turn around. It’s Sophie, uncharacteristically dancing on a coffee table to ‘Bust A Move’ by Young MC. She screams my name in joy and reaches her arms out to me, and promptly falls off the table. For a split second, I imagine her plummeting headfirst onto the floor and breaking her nose, too drunk to even put her hands out to stop herself, but a moment later Robert has caught her and places her safely on her feet. She doesn’t even seem to notice, and collapses happily into me. ‘I missed you so much!’

      ‘Thank you, oh my God, that was close,’ I say. Robert smiles and turns back to JimmyJames.

      ‘Tell me everything about speed dating!’ says Sophie. She doesn’t usually get drunk like this. Someone has been giving her shots.

      ‘Tomorrow,’ I say, shaking my head.

      Sophie grabs my hand and makes me do the (rather pathetic) bendy arms breakdancing move we perfected as children. Laughing, I turn СКАЧАТЬ