City Girl in Training by Liz Fielding Page B

bowl.
    She looked at me with all the suspicion of a cat regarding a fresh fall of snow. ‘What kind of favour?’
    I restrained the urge to slap her and instead gave a helpless little shrug. ‘The thing is, I need some clothes.’ Then, ‘Well, a whole new work wardrobe, to be honest. I haven’t got a clue where to start. What I should buy. The best shops…’
    â€˜This is urgent?’ she said, brightening considerably at the prospect, but still persisting in making it sound like a real pain. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kate grin and nod, very slightly, as she acknowledged my tactics to win her sister over.
    â€˜I’m afraid it is, rather. Is it an awful imposition?’ I didn’t give her a chance to answer that. ‘The thing is, I start a new job on Monday morning and I’m panicking that I’ll look like a country cousin.’ Her eyes, over the rim of her coffee-cup, suggested that I would always look like a country cousin. ‘I wore a uniform at the building society. Maybe I should just get something similar,’ I said. ‘Navy blue, red piping, blouse with a pussycat bow?’ Sophie, spluttering, was sufficient repayment for having to grovel. ‘It’s very neat,’ I said, beginning to enjoy myself. ‘I supposethe girls will wear something similar at this merchant bank place?’
    â€˜What merchant bank place?’ I told her and she was off her stool and through the door before I could blink. ‘Just give me ten minutes,’ she called back as she headed for her room.
    â€˜That was absolutely wicked,’ Kate said, finally able to let herself go and laugh. Quietly. ‘Have you really got a job at Bartlett’s?’
    â€˜I’ve been seconded to cover maternity leave. As a favour between bank executives.’ Among other things. ‘It’s only temporary.’
    â€˜That doesn’t matter. With access to all those upwardly mobile high-earning young bankers Sophie will be your new best friend.’
    That was rather more than I’d looked for, but it had to be better than the alternative. ‘Great,’ I said.
    My mobile beeped, warning me that I had a text message. I took it out of my bag and turned it on. ‘Umbrella total success. Home safe? C.’
    I didn’t want to know that Jay was happy and, ignoring Cal’s concern for my safety, I flipped my phone shut again. When I looked up I realised Kate was looking at me with that I-won’t-ask-but-it’s-killing-me expression. ‘It’s nothing,’ I said, and felt my cheeks heat up. ‘Just a friend. I’ll call back later.’
    â€˜Sure,’ Kate said.
    It was obvious that she didn’t believe me. To be honest, I didn’t quite believe it myself. I had no idea how Cal would describe our relationship, but I knew I was way beyond ‘just a friend’.
    â€˜Oh, bother, I should have told you before, Philly. There was a call for you while you were out.’
    â€˜Don?’ I asked, a panicky feeling of guilt welling up in me like a flood. I couldn’t speak to Don right now, not with my head stuffed with thoughts and feelings I didn’t understand.
    â€˜Your mother,’ Kate said. ‘What a sweet woman. She said it was some dreadful time in the middle of the night, but she couldn’t sleep so she thought she’d call to let you know that she and your father have arrived safely.’
    â€˜Oh, right. Thanks.’
    â€˜Who’s Don?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜You thought the call was from someone called Don.’
    â€˜Oh, yes.’ I pulled a comic face to cover my confused feelings. ‘He’s the boy next door,’ I said.
    â€˜Sweet,’ she said.
    At this point I usually told the entire story. How we met. The bicycle. How we intended to spend the rest of our lives together in lovely Maybridge. None of that seemed quite real any more, so I just smiled