curve.
I’d bought it with my redundancy money at a flash boutique in London, but had
never had a chance to wear it. It was my ‘seriously out to impress’ dress and
it wouldn’t get an airing tonight. ‘Back in the closet Cinderella’ I laughed,
returning it to its hanger, pulling out my highest heels that sparkled with
crystals to compliment the black midi.
I wasn’t sure what passed for
fashion in this small Northern town on a dull Thursday night in October,
suspecting that I may be going over the top. No, I decided, ‘you can’t go wrong
with black, even if it’s grunge night’ laughing at the prospect.
Chapter 7
After what seemed like an age of
shaving, plucking, buffing and moisturising I was finally ready. I went for
smoky eyes and glossed lips and managed to wrestle my hair into a cascade of
soft curls. It was the best I had looked and felt in a long time and as Joy’s fathers
truck pulled into the driveway, I gulped the remains of my ‘warming up’ wine,
locked the house and dashed outside.
“You look amazing,” beamed Joy
from the window.
“It’s good to see you, Rose,
how’ve you been” said her father as I slid in alongside Joy. “Good thanks.
How’s Mrs Carpenter?” I smiled. “Jealous she’s not hitting the town with you
two tonight, but otherwise she’s good. I expect you to keep Joy out of trouble,
Rose” he smiled knowingly at me as Joy pouted, unable to hold her exasperation.
“I’m twenty bloody nine, Dad, not
seventeen,” she huffed and I giggled.
This was a like a trip down
memory lane and I was half expecting him to issue the eleven o’clock curfew
like he had when we were teenagers taking this exact same journey.
“Cocktails,” chirped Joy as we
hit the bar. “I expect to be having more than a couple of these tonight and I
don’t expect to be buying them all myself,” she laughed, ordering the drinks
and I knew she wasn’t referring to me not buying a round. Joy was on a mission.
Filling her in on the letters I had read, she couldn’t believe the story of my
father.
“I wonder if my mother knew,” she
said after taking it all in. “I’ll ask her, Rose. She might be able to shed
some light, give a few more details. I know your mother kept that all very
close to her chest, but they were best friends, she must have told her
something.”
I had never thought about that
possibility before, maybe my mother’s best friend could offer some more
insight. A second name would be a start. “And where’s the God, still no word?”
Joy smiled.
“No,” I sighed, knowing that this
was a subject I needed to steer clear of tonight if I wanted to avoid crying
into a kebab on the floor of a taxi when the alcohol had stolen my sense and
reason, which at this rate it inevitably would.
The time passed in a blur of
cocktails and giggling at Joy’s hilarious assessments of the potential romantic
contenders, and by the time we hit the club at ten I felt elated. “It’s usually
packed in here on a Thursday because of the cheap drinks,” laughed Joy, linking
my arm as we made our way to the bar, “and there’ll be loads of people from
school you remember”.
“Ladies, can I get you a drink?”
called a familiar voice as a tall blond man with deep chocolate brown eyes
strode across the bar to greet us.
“Bloody hell, Joshua Reynolds,” I
smiled hugging my old school friend.
“How long has it been, Rose?” he
asked, smiling broadly.
“About twelve years,” I laughed
as he turned to plant a kiss on Joy’s cheek. “Joy,” he said simply, his eyes
lingering on my friend.
“Two champagne cocktails and a
pint of lager please,” he shouted to the barman, Joy shooting me a look
signalling she didn’t want to be stood with Joshua Reynolds all night.
“What’s the story?” I whispered as he turned
his back.
“Drink these quickly and I’ll
fill you in,” she shouted into my ear a little too loudly as he turned, handing
us the drinks and
I’d bought it with my redundancy money at a flash boutique in London, but had
never had a chance to wear it. It was my ‘seriously out to impress’ dress and
it wouldn’t get an airing tonight. ‘Back in the closet Cinderella’ I laughed,
returning it to its hanger, pulling out my highest heels that sparkled with
crystals to compliment the black midi.
I wasn’t sure what passed for
fashion in this small Northern town on a dull Thursday night in October,
suspecting that I may be going over the top. No, I decided, ‘you can’t go wrong
with black, even if it’s grunge night’ laughing at the prospect.
Chapter 7
After what seemed like an age of
shaving, plucking, buffing and moisturising I was finally ready. I went for
smoky eyes and glossed lips and managed to wrestle my hair into a cascade of
soft curls. It was the best I had looked and felt in a long time and as Joy’s fathers
truck pulled into the driveway, I gulped the remains of my ‘warming up’ wine,
locked the house and dashed outside.
“You look amazing,” beamed Joy
from the window.
“It’s good to see you, Rose,
how’ve you been” said her father as I slid in alongside Joy. “Good thanks.
How’s Mrs Carpenter?” I smiled. “Jealous she’s not hitting the town with you
two tonight, but otherwise she’s good. I expect you to keep Joy out of trouble,
Rose” he smiled knowingly at me as Joy pouted, unable to hold her exasperation.
“I’m twenty bloody nine, Dad, not
seventeen,” she huffed and I giggled.
This was a like a trip down
memory lane and I was half expecting him to issue the eleven o’clock curfew
like he had when we were teenagers taking this exact same journey.
“Cocktails,” chirped Joy as we
hit the bar. “I expect to be having more than a couple of these tonight and I
don’t expect to be buying them all myself,” she laughed, ordering the drinks
and I knew she wasn’t referring to me not buying a round. Joy was on a mission.
Filling her in on the letters I had read, she couldn’t believe the story of my
father.
“I wonder if my mother knew,” she
said after taking it all in. “I’ll ask her, Rose. She might be able to shed
some light, give a few more details. I know your mother kept that all very
close to her chest, but they were best friends, she must have told her
something.”
I had never thought about that
possibility before, maybe my mother’s best friend could offer some more
insight. A second name would be a start. “And where’s the God, still no word?”
Joy smiled.
“No,” I sighed, knowing that this
was a subject I needed to steer clear of tonight if I wanted to avoid crying
into a kebab on the floor of a taxi when the alcohol had stolen my sense and
reason, which at this rate it inevitably would.
The time passed in a blur of
cocktails and giggling at Joy’s hilarious assessments of the potential romantic
contenders, and by the time we hit the club at ten I felt elated. “It’s usually
packed in here on a Thursday because of the cheap drinks,” laughed Joy, linking
my arm as we made our way to the bar, “and there’ll be loads of people from
school you remember”.
“Ladies, can I get you a drink?”
called a familiar voice as a tall blond man with deep chocolate brown eyes
strode across the bar to greet us.
“Bloody hell, Joshua Reynolds,” I
smiled hugging my old school friend.
“How long has it been, Rose?” he
asked, smiling broadly.
“About twelve years,” I laughed
as he turned to plant a kiss on Joy’s cheek. “Joy,” he said simply, his eyes
lingering on my friend.
“Two champagne cocktails and a
pint of lager please,” he shouted to the barman, Joy shooting me a look
signalling she didn’t want to be stood with Joshua Reynolds all night.
“What’s the story?” I whispered as he turned
his back.
“Drink these quickly and I’ll
fill you in,” she shouted into my ear a little too loudly as he turned, handing
us the drinks and
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