Break-Up Club: A smart, funny novel about love and friendship. Lorelei Mathias

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      ‘Lawry… Do you mind if we go and meet her?’

      He looked up. ‘Actually, I’m really close to mastering a new song. I might stay here and finish it if that’s OK?’

      ‘OK. And maybe when I’m back we can have a go at writing the script. I’ve even thought of a name for it! Mind the Gap. What do you think?! It works on two levels…’

      Lawrence looked up from his guitar and into her eyes. ‘Yeah, I get it! But if I’m honest, Folly, I’m not totally convinced it’s film fodder. It seems a tiny bit far-fetched to me.’

      Holly’s heart sank a little. ‘The name, or the idea?’

      ‘That’s a point though, it’s that short film festival in Paris in March. We best get tickets soon. Remember, you said you’d come?’

      ‘I did?’ she said, wishing he could stay on topic for more than five seconds, just once.

      ‘Yes! It’s the European Independent Film Festival? It’s like, the undisputed Mecca of Indie Films? I have to go and do the whole networking thing, but it’d be so much more fun if you came with me.’

      ‘Are we not doing Cuba this year? Surely we should be saving all our pennies for that?’

      ‘Yeah, we definitely will. We can totally do both.’

      ‘With what, exactly? When did you start sweating tenners?’

      ‘I’ll sort it out, I promise… chill, Winston! How about, I start having a look at flights and stuff, while you’re in the pub?’

      ‘OK. Deal. Thanks.’

      In the lounge, Bella was now mummified in duvets. There were flecks of crisps in her hair, and her laptop lay ajar on her knees. Her face was dotted with white blobs of toothpaste in a bid to dry out her spots – a technique she’d long referred to as the ‘poor woman’s facemask’. As she stared, transfixed at the laptop screen, the pantone of her cheeks began to change from peach to pillar box red.

      ‘What. A. Cock,’ Bella shouted at the screen.

      ‘What’s happened?’

      Bella turned to face Holly. ‘Here I am, screaming my guts out, mourning the death of my relationship, not knowing if I’ll live to see another day, and Sam Cocknamara is joining groups like “Bring Back Superted!”’ Bella lifted up her laptop as if to throw it across the room, then seemed to change her mind and rested it back on her knees. ‘Oh and get this – Sam’s status update, 48 hours after breaking up with his girlfriend of just over two years…’

      Holly walked towards the iconic pale blue and white webpage. ‘Sam Macnamara…’ she read aloud, ‘“can’t decide which is better – crunchy peanut butter or smooth?” Mmmm. That is a bit of a kick in the teeth.’

      ‘Especially when, as any douche knows, it’s crunchy,’ Bella said, scowling.

      ‘Although maybe it’s some really clever metaphor, for life?’

      ‘Nice try. But no, I don’t think he’s that clever. The last time I tried to discuss metaphor with Sam he thought I was talking about bull-fighting. He really is that thick.’

      Holly shook her head, her eyes landing on the empty vodka bottle and half-eaten bag of jelly babies at Bella’s feet. ‘Right well, I’m not sure you’ll be up to it, or that you need to add to the alcohol that’s already colonising your veins, but some of us are going to the pub. I’d like to recommend you take this opportunity to try and do outdoors – take a short intermission from moping?’

      Bella shook her head. The prospect of having to act happy again so soon did not appeal. After crying for so long, she felt snug as a bug nestling at sorrow’s bosom. ‘No, no. Not out there, not yet.’

      Holly walked over to the window and peered through the gap in the dark blue blinds. There was still some daylight left; the sun wasn’t quite setting. She grabbed the string and pulled.

      ‘Hey!!! What are you doing?’ screamed Bella, clamping her hands over her eyes.

      ‘You have a date in the bathroom. There’s someone in there I’d like you to meet. He’s called Mr Shower Head. Now. Come on!’

      Reluctantly, Bella relented. But instead of hoisting herself up on the sofa in order to stand up, she went for the roll and land technique. Still swaddled in blankets, she slowly rolled onto the floor in the manner of a depressed pancake. Then Holly began to peel off the blankets, Bella whimpering as the cold air hit her pyjamas. She stood up, shook her hair free of some of the crisp crumbs, then hobbled towards the door in the pink duvet slippers.

      ‘YAY. Well done you. Listen, you get in the shower, I’ll make you a cup of sugary tea and put it in your room for afters, OK?’

      ‘Thanks,’ mumbled Bella, stepping out into the hallway and walking like something from Dawn of the Dead. Holly went to put the kettle on. Moments later, there was an almighty shriek, followed by what sounded like a herd of elephants jumping on top of each other.

      Holly ran to the landing. She looked down to see Bella in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs.

      ‘FUUUuuuuuuCK! I’ve broken my arse!’

      Holly ran down the stairs. ‘I did try and warn you! No walking in the slippers! They are strictly for loafing!’

      ‘I forgot I had them on!’

      ‘Sorry!’ Holly said, folding Bella into her arms.

      ‘Hey, at least I can’t get any lower now, can I?’ Bella said, shrieking with laughter, tears streaming down her face.

      Forty minutes and thirty millilitres of soothing Aloe Vera gel later, they set off. After wandering down the long and winding Tufnell Park Road, Bella and Holly arrived at Holloway Road. Aesthetically, the contrast never failed to bring a shock to Holly’s system. The way the charming Victorian conversions morphed into grey concrete 1960s blocks and stalls flogging mobile phones. Slowly they strolled down the rows of off-licenses and discount clothing shops, with dated shopfronts.

      Just as they turned right onto the road, Holly felt the wind tugging at her hair, forcing her to wrap her charcoal-grey duffel coat tighter around her. Holloway Road appeared to have its own microclimate – it was always cold and windy, no matter what the weather was doing anywhere else. As if on cue, it then began to rain. Holly pulled her coat above her head to protect her curls from going fuzzy.

      ‘Ah, home sweet booze,’ Bella said, as they walked through the doors to the Big Blue and she leaped towards a cluster of free sofas, draping her long red coat over the biggest armchair.

      ‘I’ll have a Vodka and Red Bull if you’re going up to the bar,’ Bella said, slumping into a chair and resuming the affectation of a broken-hearted creature.

      ‘Of course. Although, I can’t believe you still drink that university shite. You’ll be after a Snakebite and black soon!’ Holly said, looking at the door and seeing Olivia walk in.

      ‘Hi, Liv,’ Holly said, moving in for a hug.

      ‘Oh СКАЧАТЬ