Sweetpea: The most unique and gripping thriller of 2017. C.J. Skuse

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СКАЧАТЬ at the crèche not to die from a hammer blow to the skull isn’t that big a big deal.

      The ceremony was at this massive opulent hotel in Soho. I’m terrible at schmoozing at the best of times so for the most part I stayed in a corner staring at my phone, filling my mouth with green olives so I wouldn’t have to make conversation.

      When I got into work this morning, it was a different story. I lied my little ass off. How I’d got a selfie with Gary Barlow and some tart from Loose Women (it was on her phone, which was why I couldn’t show them). How I’d heard one of the footballers finger-banging one of the TOWIE lot in the lavs. How two celeb hairdressers snorted coke at the bar. How the presenters of the wildlife programme had a tiff over peanuts. How this actor tripped over some woman’s Gucci dress, how that actress stumbled into a taxi and everyone saw her stench trench.

      Oh, yah, I was all OVER the gossip, dah-ling.

      The unvarnished truth was that I made a sharp exit the moment they read out the results to catch the rape o’clock train home. No man made a move though, much to my chagrin. Always the same when you’re all knifed up and ready to go.

      By 9:14 a.m., they’d all moved on anyway. And the empty space on the shelf above my desk, which I’d dusted clear to make room for my award, was filled with complaints about litter, press releases and some local farmer’s self-published memoirs for me to do a feature on. I really needed that fucking award. The only praise I ever get is when Hotmail tells me I’ve got a very clean inbox.

      It sucks major BALLS.

      AJ was asking me about it on and off all day, bless him. I’m starting to like him again. He holds the door open for me, makes me peanut butter and banana on toast and hates Linus almost as much as I do. Linus gives him nicknames as well – Apache Junction, Angelina Jolie, Aussie Jim. Unfortunately, though, he has Claudia’s boring gene and I had to hear all about his life back in ‘Straya’ with his teacher mum and mechanic stepdad. How his dad left him when he was five and how long it took him to learn to surf, how he doesn’t like Vegemite despite the stereotype, how his high school had a terrorist attack once and how wondrous the sunsets are where he lives. He also calls charity shops ‘op shops’. His breath smells good too – no aftertang. Minty. I watch his neck pulse sometimes when he’s talking to me.

      As of 8.31 p.m. this evening, #UpAttheCock is still trending on Twitter. So is #WomanOfTheCentury. I’m not mentioned in any of those tweets though. It’s mostly about Ant and Dec’s radical new facial hair. Typical.

Wednesday, 7 February

       1. The entire human race. Even the ones not born yet who are just poised in the birth canal, ready to come out and piss me off

      I woke up in a chronic mood, which wasn’t unusual given the dreams I have, but what was unusual was that every single ittybitty thing was annoying me. Even Tink, and she was usually the one thing that didn’t. I tripped over her twice getting dressed so I shouted at her. Then I felt bad and she crawled up my lower leg, begging for a pick-up so she could lick my face.

      There was an uncertain feeling in my chest at work all day long, clenching like sharp teeth. I wanted to kill again.

      Carol the sub was in the staffroom when I went to make the coffees.

      ‘That AJ’s got himself a bit of a crush on you,’ she told me, with a conspiratorial stir of her camomile.

      ‘On me?’ I said. ‘Why?’

      She laughed. ‘You’ll have to ask him, won’t you?’

      I shrugged. ‘How do you know?’

      ‘He was asking me if you had a better half.’

      ‘What did you tell him?’

      ‘I said he should ask you himself. Do you like him?’

      ‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘He could come in useful somewhere.’

      She shrieked at that, only it took me a while to realise she thought I meant that as a pun. I truly didn’t. ‘Watch out for Claudia though. She’ll be on the warpath if you’re found defiling her nephew. She keeps a pretty close eye on him.’

      ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I’m surprised she doesn’t make him work in a little cat basket under her desk.’

      Cue another deafening shriek.

      Talking of the Gulp Monster, Claudia wants me to do my own write up on the Up At the Crack interview – The Editorial Assistant’s Eye View – as opposed to the Editor’s Comment next week.

      ‘There’s a little moment in the sun for you, sweetpea,’ she said with a smile so patronising it could strip paint.

      Whoopee Shit. It’ll be squeezed between a half-page advert for sixty years of Darlington Caravans and a story about a dead World War Two carrier pigeon someone found up their chimney. She can suck my mammaries till Michaelmas if she thinks I’m going to be grateful for that, gigantic bag of crabs that she is.

      Joyless Joy slurped her tea all morning. The comment about my personal appearance today was ‘What’s the matter with your legs in those leggings? You couldn’t stop a pig in a passage.’ I still very hate her too.

      There’s been a robbery at the One Stop, so the reporters were all over that this afternoon. Other than that, nothing else is making headlines. Same old, same old. There’s the upcoming fifty-year anniversary of the wildlife sanctuary and a hit-and-run on the retail park and they’re trying to get hold of the family of a teen who live-streamed her suicide on Periscope because she used to live in the area so, technically, she’s ours. No luck yet though.

      Canal Bloke’s death isn’t worrying anyone much. I asked Linus about it, more as a decoy – AJ was replacing his lip gloss with a joke one. We have a little wager between us – who can prank him the best.

      I made it through about a third of my emails when I noticed one from Curly Sue herself – Laila at Tanner & Walker, the estate agent who had once tried to sell Mum and Dad’s house and failed like a whale trying to shag a snail.

       Tried to reach you on your landline but no answer. Could you give me a call first thing? Thanks.

      I called straight away.

      ‘Rhiannon! Oh, great to finally reach you!’ she shrilled, so much fake she could bake a fake cake. ‘I was trying to get hold of you all day yesterday.’

      ‘I had my mobile on,’ I said.

      ‘Yeah, I tried it. There was still no answer.’

      ‘Oh.’ I frowned. So she was a bullshitter as well as a crap estate agent. Hmmm.

      ‘Anyway, we’ve had a new offer on your mum and dad’s place. Full asking price and no chain. How’s about that? It’s almost unheard of at this time of year.’

      ‘Uh, I took it off the market months ago,’ I said, heart quietly thumping away.

      ‘Yes, I know, but the couple who looked at it СКАЧАТЬ