Nomance by T Price (read an ebook week txt) 📕

changed,she found she had a headache coming one, so she went downstairs tothe kitchen, where the medicines were kept in one of the cupboards.As she opened this, she saw the plastic bottle of pills she hadbeen prescribed for her stomach cramps. The invasion of Gywnne’sfriends had made her forget to take one that lunchtime. She pickedit up and found there were two left. She had been sure there hadbeen only one. Well, she’d still need to get more tomorrow. Sheswallowed one and then took an aspirin and went to bed.

Yet, no matter how hardshe tried, she could not sleep. It was as if she were being forcedto stay wide awake and listen for her brother’s return. The bedclothes cloyed around her and every position felt awkward. When itgot to the small hours, molten tears burned her eyes as her veryfaith was tested. Yes, even her dream of selling Romance andescaping London forever seemed like it could never come true.

All at once it wasmorning.

Somehow she had slept.The unbearable ache of loneliness had faded somewhat. It revived alittle when she discovered Gwynne had still not come home, but bythen she believed in her dream again, and what’s more, it wasbetter than ever. Because now, when she did sell Romance,she would refuse to take Gwynne with her.

Making him homelesswould just about get her even.

After breakfast, Carlawent through into the shop and let Kitty in. She gave her today’sinstructions and stood watching while the huge girl began to fillthe water buckets.

A moment later, Carlablurted out, ‘So, how are you today, Kitty?’

Kitty couldn’t dealwith the question at the same time as her hands were occupied. Sheput the bucket down and stared at Carla. How was Kitty? Thequestion seemed to trouble her on some profound level. Carla helpedher out by giving her a choice of two answers. ‘Well, do you feelgood, or do you feel bad?

Kitty gave Carla acrafty look. ‘I don’t know.’

After a moment, Carlasaid, ‘Like I told you, Kitty, only fill the buckets up threequarters. I don’t want your mother round here again complainingyou’ve got a strain.’

She stumped back intothe kitchen and was still there by lunch time, when Gwynne showedup.

‘Starving,’ hesaid.

She watched him as heprepared his dinner, a wistful smile on his face as he cranked opena can of beans. His good humour put her in a state of someperplexity. She wanted to have a good go at him, but she needed himto be sullen to get started, and Gwynne wasn’t being sullen for thefirst time in nineteen years. Such was the cursed power oflove.

She had no choice butto pick an argument.

This was going to be astrange new experience for her. By and large arguments with Gwynneoccurred spontaneously and Carla couldn’t help feelingself-conscious as she kicked off with a complaint – for the lack ofanything else to kick off with.

‘You and your lot madea racket yesterday,’ she sounded like she was arraigning him incourt. ‘You know I have to rest up. I’m pregnant, remember.’

Not looking at her,Gwynne nodded and stirred his beans in a saucepan on the stove.‘Yeah, I do remember,’ he said, ‘but yesterday I forgot and I’mdead sorry about that, Carly. Somebody said they wanted to see thisshop my older sister ran all by herself and I never thought. But Igive you my word it won’t happen again.’ He was serious when hesaid this. Then he was laughing. ‘For a start off, Charmainedoesn’t like flowers. They give her a reaction, like hay fever.Worse than hay fever, though. She gets a rash, see.’

‘That’s a shame,’ Carlasaid. ‘But there must be an injection that would help.’

Gwynne seemed toappreciate the thought.

‘That’s what I said,but Charmaine told me she takes too many drugs as it is. Anyway,she’s got her own place near Hounslow. She’s said I should move inwith her so I could get away from the flower dust too. And Ithought, why not? So I’ve told her I’ll give it a go –starting next week.’

Eight: Enter the Other Party

On a leafy, prosperoussquare in Ladbroke Grove, a clap of summer thunder drew Tamsin tothe balconied window of the bijou apartment.

Her friend, JulietWesthrop, looked on with an indulgent smile as the winsome littlecreature waited, all aquiver, for the next peal of thunder. Butnone came. Instead the wind got up and a light rain began to patteragainst the pane.

Tamsin returned to herseat and asked, ‘Darling, I may have to borrow an umbrellalater.’

‘Yes dear. I bought anew one Monday.’

Tamsin was stricken.‘Oh, but I have two of yours already, don’t I? Listen, Jules, I’llpop back now and bring them.’ She made as if to move, but Juliethalted her with a dismissive gesture.

‘Stay here, Tam. Peoplewill be arriving soon and it’ll look strange if I’m on my own.’ Asa matter of fact, Juliet did not mind receiving guests on her own,but she always tried her best to avoiding making Tamsin suffer.They had been friends from school, when Tamsin’s hopelessvulnerability was a large part of her charm, and although thosedays were long since gone, Juliet still nursed a protectiveinstinct towards her.

‘Come to think of itnow, I have one of Phoebe’s umbrellas too.’

Tamsin spoke with apolished accent. She was the only child of a leading barrister (herfather) and the head of a London-based PR consultancy (mother). Itwent without saying they had always expected something remarkablefrom their cherished offspring. They had been glad to fund her atSt Martin’s College of Art. But her childhood friend, Juliet, couldhave told them from the beginning that their daughter had even lesstalent than ambition. Tamsin had gone to St Martin’s for one reasonalone – because Juliet was there.

‘I’m surprised Phoebehas an umbrella,’ Juliet said.

‘It was still sealed inthe original packaging.’ Tamsin stared at the rain and sighed. ‘Sheshould try to take more care of herself.’

Juliet tried not tosmile. For some reason the rain always made Tamsin melancholic, andwhen Tamsin was melancholic she was at her most ludicrous. ‘No needto worry about Phoebe.’ Juliet soothed. ‘She’s a real toughie.’

Tamsin took heart fromthese words and Juliet was about to tell herself, yet again, thatthe