A Part of Me. Anouska Knight

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ going to be parents.’

       CHAPTER 2

      ‘WELL, YOU KNOW what they say.’ Phil grinned, chocolate eyes peeping from under her blunt designer fringe. All around us, the city’s populace of on-trend urbanites basked in the funky basement atmosphere of Rufus’s Cocktail Lounge. It had always been our favourite place.

      ‘Go on, Phil, what do they say?’ I asked, indulging her.

      ‘If your sex-life is crap and you argue all the time, you might as well have kids.’ Phil finished her words of encouragement with a blood-red smile and a playful shrug of her shoulders.

      ‘I think you mean get married, Phil. If your sex-life is crap and you argue all the time, you might as well get married, isn’t it?’

      Phil hooked a long glossy fingernail around a hair that had affixed itself to her newly reapplied lippy and swept it back in with the others. ‘Whatever. They’re both bad ideas.’ She winked.

      ‘Well, I know which one I’m interested in,’ I said, over the mellow beats of Rufus’s in-house DJ. ‘And it doesn’t involve a big white dress.’ I smoothed out the creases of my silk pewter vest while Phil let her eyes follow a group of men towards the bar. In the dimness of the club’s ambience, her dark brown bob looked closer to black, giving her an air reminiscent of a Japanese doll. Whatever had caught her attention at the bar wasn’t enough to hold it there.

      ‘We’ll see,’ she cooed. ‘Once junior arrives, you’ll be all loved up and Viv will be banging on about nuclear families, and you’ll buckle. I’ll put money on it. You’ll be Mrs Coffrey before the end of next year.’

      Phil knew my family too well. Mum had already tried every angle she could to talk me into the virtues of marriage, despite my father having put an abrupt end to theirs after falling for mine and my brother’s babysitter. It wasn’t that I was against marriage exactly, and in fairness to my father after eighteen years it seemed to be working for him and Petra, but as far as commitment went, I just couldn’t see that there was anything more binding than raising a child together.

      ‘Mum just wants the whole wedding faff, Phil. She missed out when my brother married Lauren because Lauren’s mum did it all. That’s why she’s going nuts with this bloody party she’s talked us into having. Did I tell you that she’s made me order a massive cake for it?’

      Phil broke into a husky giggle. ‘If she’s content with throwing you a mock-wedding reception, Ame, cake and all, take the deal and run.’

      ‘It’s not a mock-wedding reception.’ I shuddered. At least not outside my mum’s head it wasn’t. ‘It’s just a small gathering to celebrate our new status as …’ What were we now, exactly? ‘… parents-in-waiting.’

      ‘It’s your last chance at a big mash-up before you go all boring on me is what it is. I suppose we’ve had a good run, though.’ Phil sighed. ‘You’ve been pretty good fun, for someone who’s already been stuck with the same ball and chain, for-ever.’

      James wasn’t the ball and chain. Ball and chains didn’t keep a mental itinerary of all the things we wouldn’t be able to do over the next few years. Like skiing holidays, and city-breaks. If anyone was shackling anyone else, Phil probably had it back to front. ‘Eight years is hardly forever, Phil.’ I smiled.

      ‘Sex with the same man for eight years and you’re not even thirty yet. It’s heartbreaking,’ she said absently.

      I shook my head, spearing a slice of lemon with my straw. ‘You never know, Philippa. You might settle down yourself, one day.’

      Phil grimaced at the horror of such a thought. ‘And wake up to the same guy for the rest of my days? No. There isn’t a man who could swing that deal. I mean, how utterly depressing. No wonder women turn to chips and chocolate once they settle down. You’d better buy yourself some loose joggers now, Hon, you’ve done well to last this long. In fact, I’d been wondering what gift I should bring you guys to your “kissing-our-lives-goodbye” party. I’ll get you his and hers jogging bottoms … with pockets, for your chocolate wrappers.’

      Phil smiled while a couple of our remaining cohorts, still lucid enough to follow the conversation, joined in.

      ‘I can’t imagine Amy in jogging bottoms,’ chirped Hannah, Cyan Architecture & Design’s newest office junior. Hannah’s wispy blonde hair had become steadily more wispy as we’d worked our way through the cocktails list. ‘You’re always so … polished,’ she continued.

      Sat beside Hannah, Sadie Espley – niece of Adrian Espley, Cyan’s founding architect – looked as though she might actually contribute something for the first time all night. Then her phone flashed again, reeling her face back down behind a curtain of honey-blonde tresses.

      ‘You do know that Amy isn’t your boss, right, Hannah?’ Phil enquired, drily. ‘You haven’t got to kiss her arse. And before you say it, yes, even though it is indeed a perfectly honed and perky size ten.’

      ‘Twelve now,’ I corrected. James had mentioned Christmas excess twice since my birthday.

      Tom and Alice, Cyan’s computer-generated-imagery techie and marketing primo respectively, flopped down onto the right side of the booth, squashing the rest of us four bodies closer to Phil.

      ‘Did I hear something about a perfect arse?’ Tom asked, a glaze of dance-induced sweat sticking loose fawny curls to his forehead. ‘You talking about my booty again, Philippa?’ He never changed out of his hipster jeans and casual shirts, not even for Friday-night cocktails.

      ‘Not this time, hot stuff,’ Phil replied. ‘Amy’s arse, not yours. Hannah’s grown fond of kissing it.’

      ‘Cool it, Phil. Hannah’s just being nice. Remember what that feels like? Being nice?’ I stuck my tongue out playfully and was rewarded with another danger-red grin.

      ‘If you think Phil’s got a big mouth, Hannah, wait till you go on a night out with Dana and Marcy,’ Alice said glibly. ‘You’ll think Phil’s a pussycat.’ Phil blew Alice a kiss. Over the last few years Cyan Architecture & Design had grown enough that the women in the office now loosely formed two groups. Us and Them. Dana and Marcy were definitely thems. Phil said Sadie belonged with them too, and wasn’t impressed that I’d asked her out with us tonight. Sadie’s relentless preoccupation with her phone wasn’t exactly winning her any points. Sadie lifted her head and briefly looked big blue eyes out from trendy rectangular glasses. ‘Dana and Marcy are all right, Alice,’ she declared.

      Phil cocked an unconvinced eyebrow. ‘Well, they’re not going to be bitchy with you, are they, Sadie? Not with Uncle Adrian paying their wages.’

      ‘I earn my keep, Phil,’ Sadie retorted. ‘I work all the hours you do.’

      ‘Er, you’re in the studio the same amount of hours, Sadie, I’ll give you that. But that’s not quite the same thing.’

      The atmosphere dropped a few centigrade. ‘I don’t get any special perks, Phil.’

      Phil smiled. ‘But you don’t see Uncle Adrian letting us lot get away with a fumble in the samples library with the lighting rep, Sadie. СКАЧАТЬ