Miss Wrong and Mr Right(8)

Nicky sucked in her teeth and shook her head. ‘The skirt I can cope with. It’s the colour of that blouse. Two words: Easy Jet.’

‘EasyJet is one word,’ I said.

‘Either way, you’re wearing the uniform of a budget airline… This is probably the most important night of our careers. If you wear this people won’t be saying, oh look there’s Natalie Love, she runs this joint, they’ll be asking you for Pringles and charity scratch cards.’

‘It’s not EasyJet orange. Is it?’ I said holding it up to me in front of the mirror by the door. Nicky nodded.

‘What are you wearing?’ I asked. She went out and came back with a beautiful pearl-white Alexander McQueen dress.

‘Oh, wow, that’s stunning,’ I said.

‘Bart got it for me, to go with my bracelet… I’d offer to lend you something but you know I’ve got a big fat ass and huge…’

‘Okay, I know,’ I said hanging the outfit back up. ‘I’ll sort it. Sharon will probably lend me something… Now, let’s talk about tonight.’

‘Just one more thing,’ said Nicky.

‘What?’

‘How much is priority boarding?’

I couldn’t help but laugh.





The rest of the morning, and first part of the afternoon, was spent in meetings, briefing our theatre staff, and ticking the seemingly endless list of tasks off our to-do list. By three pm there were a couple of hours free so I ducked out to get my replacement outfit from Sharon. I hurried through Covent Garden and down to Charing Cross where I jumped on a train to New Cross. Twenty-five minutes later I emerged onto New Cross Road.

I walked past the big Sainsbury’s supermarket, and knocked on a bright green door in a row of terraced houses set back a little from the traffic roaring past. The door opened. Sharon was stood in the hallway, her hair slicked back with foam, and a towel round her shoulders.

‘Have you seen Ryan Harrison yet?’ she asked excitedly. ‘Have you? What’s he like?’

‘Muzzle yourself. He’s not arriving until five,’ I said. There was a yell from down the hall.

‘Stay by the sink Amy!’ shouted Sharon over her shoulder. ‘Come through Nat.’

I followed her into the big kitchen overlooking her cosy little garden. Her ten-year-old son Felix was sat at the kitchen table, also with his hair slicked back with foam. He was wearing a superman towel tied under his chin like a cape. Her daughter Amy’s eight-year-old legs were only just long enough so she could lean up and over the sink as her hair dripped.

‘Nits, Nat,’ said Sharon. ‘We’ve all got bloody nits.’ She picked up a small silver comb and started combing through Amy’s thick wet hair.

‘Oh no!’ I said putting my bag down on the table. ‘How?’

‘We got them from Laura Dalton, Aunt Nat,’ said Amy. Even aged eight she had her disapproving face down to a tee.

‘We don’t know it was Laura Dalton,’ said Sharon.

‘She’s always in the playground, flicking her hair around the boys,’ said Amy. ‘She was bound to get something from them.’

‘Girls have nits too!’ shouted Felix.

‘The dress you want to borrow is on the back of the bedroom door,’ said Sharon pulling the comb through a knot in Amy’s hair. ‘Do you mind grabbing it?’

‘No probs,’ I said. As I went through Amy yelled,

‘Ow! This is all Felix’s fault. He kissed Laura yesterday!’

‘I didn’t!’ shouted Felix.





I always feel a little envious when I wander round Sharon’s house. It’s so cosy: pictures drawn by the kids, framed holiday photos, a little clay Homer Simpson ashtray made by Felix for his Dad, Fred, who is small, handsome and very Italian. It always reminds me I might just miss the boat as far as kids were concerned. Benjamin couldn’t commit to leaving a toothbrush in my flat, let alone impregnating me…

‘It’s just water you twit. I haven’t even put the nit shampoo on yet!’ I heard Sharon saying from the kitchen. A beautiful green silk wrap-around dress was hung in plastic on the back of the door. I grabbed it and went back through.

‘Is that okay Nat?’ asked Sharon.

‘It’s perfect, thank you,’ I said.

‘I’m wearing my black galaxy dress,’ said Sharon. ‘I know it’s a bit 2007, but it pushes me up and pulls me in in all the right places…’ She tailed off when she realised the kids were staring. Amy rolled her brown eyes under her foamy hair line,

‘Mother, you’re like married, and Ryan Harrison is so out of your league,’ she said.