Everything is Beautiful by Eleanor Ray (best classic romance novels txt) 📕

on a secret drug-fuelled bender, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ replied Tim.

‘Of course not,’ said Amy.

‘I’ve been clean for ages,’ added Tim.

‘I know,’ said Amy. ‘It’s just, I worry about her.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I never see her any more. Here,’ said Amy, passing Tim a carrot. ‘You can chop these instead. Julienne, apparently. From the picture I think that means like little matchsticks.’

‘That’s some fine carrot cutting,’ said Tim, also leaning over the picture. ‘Good thing I have the skilful fingers of a guitar player.’

Amy leaned over and gave him a kiss, then grabbed a large and angry-looking red chilli. ‘Do you think she’s OK? She seemed so sure when she broke up with Jack last time.’

‘She’s like a cat,’ said Tim. ‘You have to break up with her nine times before it sticks. Look at Spike.’

‘Jack is better than Spike,’ replied Amy, with a laugh. ‘I hope it does work out with them. She’s definitely kissed her share of frogs.’

‘Jack is a bit of a catch,’ said Tim. ‘And he looks like He-Man.’

‘Maybe you should date him,’ said Amy, tossing her chillies into the frying pan and listening to them sizzle.

‘Not my type,’ replied Tim. He leaned over her and gave her another kiss. ‘I like beautiful arty girls with spicy fingers who make me smoke outside even when it’s snowing.’

‘I’ll squeeze the lime juice in and see what happens,’ said Amy, boldly, after giving Tim a kiss in return. ‘Did you buy fresh coriander?’

‘I bought everything on the list,’ said Tim.

‘This is nice,’ replied Amy, chopping the coriander. ‘Having a dinner party. We even have the right number of plates, and clean cutlery. It’s like being a grown-up at last.’

Tim put down his knife, and Amy noticed that the carrots were more like stubby little fingers than elegant matchsticks. So much for his musician hands. She didn’t say anything.

Amy’s phone buzzed. ‘It’s Chantel,’ she said. ‘They are running late.’

‘What shall we do with the extra time?’ Tim’s hand slid suggestively around Amy’s waist.

‘Maybe you could have another go at the carrots?’ she said. ‘Matchsticks please, not fingers.’

‘I’m not sure about being a grown-up,’ he grumbled, picking up the knife again. ‘But your wish is my command.’

Amy was just about to relent and let Tim eat the Thai curry when the doorbell finally rang. ‘I hate that ringtone,’ said Amy.

‘It’s Beethoven,’ replied Tim, with a laugh. ‘A classic. And just the sound we needed. I’m starving.’

Amy went to open the door. ‘Hello,’ said Chantel. ‘Sorry we are late.’ Her voice had a metallic quality to it, hard and mechanical.

‘No worries,’ said Amy, going to hug her friend. Chantel winced a little at the embrace. ‘Are you OK?’ asked Amy.

‘Big session at the gym earlier,’ said Chantel. ‘I’m a bit worn-out and achy.’ She smiled at Amy. ‘But we’re here now.’

‘This one took for ever to get ready,’ said Jack, his voice bright and cheerful as he stepped in and gave Amy a warm hug. ‘Hope dinner’s all right.’

‘Of course,’ said Amy, ‘we eat late anyway.’ She looked at Chantel, who was gazing at the empty wall. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.

‘You too,’ replied Chantel.

‘I’m always telling her she should come around more often,’ said Jack. ‘But what with work and the gym, she’s barely got any time.’

Tim poured them all a glass of wine and they sat around the coffee table. Amy went into the kitchen and spooned rice into small bowls, which she upturned and removed to make little rice domes. She spooned curry on to each plate, adding prawns to Chantel’s and Jack’s. She sprinkled everything with the fresh coriander, and added a sliver of lime to each plate. It didn’t exactly look like the picture, but it certainly seemed edible.

‘Dinner is served,’ she said, rather proudly, presenting the dishes to her guests. ‘Sorry about eating at the coffee table,’ she said, as she went back to the kitchen to fetch the other plates. ‘We’re saving up for a dining table.’

‘You must come round to ours next time,’ said Jack. ‘We’ve got a six-seater.’

‘Very impressive,’ Tim told Jack, his mouth full of curry. ‘Amy, this is delicious.’

‘You should teach Chantel how to make this,’ said Jack, happily breaking the head from a prawn. ‘It’s very nice.’

‘All I can make is cheese on toast,’ said Chantel, picking at the curry and ignoring the rice. ‘And since we’ve given up bread, that’s not so useful.’

‘You should borrow one of my recipe books,’ said Amy. ‘I’ve got a few now.’

‘Nice plates too,’ said Chantel.

‘Gosh, we’re old,’ laughed Amy. ‘Sitting around dinner talking about plates.’ She smiled.

‘We’ll have to pop some pills later,’ said Tim. ‘Prove we’ve still got it. No offence,’ he said to Jack.

‘I know you’re joking,’ replied Jack. He broke the head off another prawn. ‘Because if you weren’t, I’d have to arrest you.’ There was a moment’s silence, then Chantel laughed, the sound cutting through the room. The others joined in.

‘Nicely cut carrots, don’t you think, everyone?’ said Tim.

‘Did you do those?’ asked Chantel.

‘You can tell?’ said Tim.

‘Musician fingers,’ replied Chantel. She smiled at Tim. ‘Are you missing the band?’

‘Turns out media sales is my calling,’ said Tim. ‘In fact, shall we tell her, Chantel?’

‘Absolutely.’ Chantel and Tim grinned at each other.

‘What’s the secret?’ asked Amy. ‘Tim, you were being weird earlier.’

‘You tell her,’ said Chantel. ‘You paid for most of it.’

‘You chipped in,’ said Tim.

‘Just tell us,’ said Jack. ‘I hate secrets.’

‘We’ve booked you on to that art programme, Amy,’ said Tim.

‘The one you’ve always wanted to do, in Florence.’

‘What?’

‘It’s all paid for,’ said Chantel. ‘And we’ve cleared the leave with Mr Trapper.’ She let out a small squeal. ‘Are you happy?’

‘I can’t believe it,’ said Amy, stunned.

‘It’s time you worked on your art again, Amy,’ said Tim. ‘You’re so talented.’

‘I haven’t painted in ages,’ said Amy. ‘What if I’m not good enough?’

‘Of course you are,’ said Tim. He grinned at her. ‘This is just the kick-start you need. And now I’m making decent money, perhaps you can