Perfect on Paper by Gillian Harvey (top 20 books to read txt) 📕

in the right place. Then her eye was drawn to his stomach – if she wasn’t mistaken, he seemed to be developing if not a six-pack then definitely a two.

He was annoying, sure. But he was pretty sexy, all things considered. She thought of the way she’d been enjoying Dan’s attention and felt suddenly guilty.

‘Um, Toby?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you think we should try to get our date night up and running again?’ she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and feeling suddenly almost teenage with self-consciousness.

He looked at her then, and for a moment it was as if time had slipped back six months and they were once more on the same wavelength. ‘It’s been too long, hasn’t it?’

‘Just a bit.’

They smiled. ‘I’m a bit crap, aren’t I?’ he said.

‘We both are, I think. But yes. Yes, you are,’ she said, half smiling. ‘Look, Toby, is … is anything going on at work, anything I need to know about?’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. You’re stressed … or, I don’t know, there’s someone else or something.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, sitting down next to her and touching her hand. ‘I’ve just … I don’t know. All I seem to be able to think about is work. And I know I seem distant and … I know I haven’t been here much. I keep thinking to myself that I’ve got to sort it out. But, it’s kind of – that environment. I get lost, you know?’ He looked at her and she felt a wave of sympathy.

‘There … there isn’t, you know. Someone else?’ she asked tentatively, searching his face.

His cheeks flushed. ‘Someone else?’ he exclaimed.

‘Yeah, I don’t know. The wonderful Hayley perhaps.’

‘She’s twenty-five.’

‘And?’

‘Don’t you trust me?’

‘I do, of course I do. I’m not saying you’re sleeping with her or anything, just … well. Maybe you like her.’ A vision of Dan came into her mind and she pushed it away guiltily.

‘There’s nothing like that. Honestly. I mean, I value her opinion about stuff. But it’s only because I’m so clueless. She makes me feel about a hundred years old if I’m honest.’

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I just feel, well, things aren’t great at the moment, are they?’

‘Sorry.’

‘You don’t have to be. It’s not you, it’s … well, it’s us isn’t it?’

‘Guess so,’ he said. Then looked at her as if for the first time. ‘Hang on, have you done something different with your hair?’

Chapter Twenty-Three

Clare woke up with a start at six o’clock, half an hour before her alarm. She’d been dreaming of having toothache; dialling the number of the dentist again and again but getting it wrong each time. Her stomach fluttered a little when she remembered their callback was tonight – they’d be performing again for the judges to see if their combined acts would work for the competition. What would happen if they didn’t get through? And what would happen if they did?

The bed next to her was empty – a small dent in the pillow the only evidence that Toby had been there at all. Even though a lot of his footage was now filmed in more social hours, the need for him to be in London and his desire to make a good impression meant he was slipping out at some ungodly hour at least three times a week. ‘I’ve got to demonstrate my commitment!’ he’d told her when she’d called him on it. ‘It won’t be for ever.’

She silenced the voice of doubt inside her. If they were ever going to get back on track they had to trust each other. He hadn’t said much about her own irregular hours – she could hardly start quizzing him on his.

She yawned. Despite having almost eight hours of kip, she felt exhausted. Too frequently she was up in the night with racing thoughts, worrying about the kids, work, stressing over whether she was trending on Twitter – everyday stuff. Picking up her phone, she idly read her updates, and noticed a text from Dan. It had been sent about 10 minutes earlier. WATCH THE NEWS, it said. Feeling slightly unnerved, she reached for the remote and switched on the small TV that sat on top of a chest of drawers in their bedroom. The news was just starting, so she propped herself up against a pillow and blearily watched the credits.

‘PM confirms that reshuffle will be announced tomorrow,’ said the official-sounding newsreader over the top of the dramatic opening music. ‘Supermarkets warn that the price of turnips is set to rise.’ Clare yawned indulgently and shuffled into a more comfortable position.

‘But first, the unlikely talent act that’s taken the internet by storm,’ the newsreader smiled, as the camera zoomed in. ‘Rap star Martha B., with her backing dancers Eezee Troupe, has sparked an internet craze, with women taking to their keyboards to complain about being hashtag MehToo. Gilbert Humbuckle reports.’

Clare felt a strange, sinking sensation in her stomach. Surely, she had imagined that?

‘Millions of people post videos on YouTube each day, in the hope of getting likes and clicks,’ said the voice-over, completely oblivious to the fact that Clare was frozen in horror. ‘But few have taken off so quickly as a novelty rap act, known only as Martha B.’

A clip of Clare, conveniently shielded by her enormous dark glasses, played on the screen. ‘Not the cover, but the book!’ her televised self said, striking a pose she couldn’t even remember.

‘In the viral clip, Martha is accompanied by an innovative street dance troupe made up of thirteen boys, each at least half her age. But the main reaction seems to have been in response to this unlikely rap star – and the message she’s sharing with the world.’

A scrolling Twitter page showed on the screen.

‘You may have heard of the word “meh”,’ continued Gilbert Humbuckle’s voice. ‘Often used in texts and tweets, it means to feel a little ordinary or dull. But this word is used in Martha B.’s rap to describe how she feels