My Fake Wedding(61)

‘You know you did.’ He rumples my hair affectionately. ‘You did brilliant.’

‘I’ve got another two lined up, you know,’ I say proudly. ‘Just from last night.’

‘That’s excellent.’

‘Thing is,’ I say, ‘that wedding cost me a fortune. When can I send them the bill?’

A chuckle starts rollicking around in Sam’s chest and bubbles quickly to the surface.

‘God, you really are crap at the real world, aren’t you?’ He guffaws. ‘Do you know how businesses work or not?’

‘Not,’ I say decidedly. ‘I really haven’t a clue. You’ll have to help me with all that book balancing and stuff.’

‘Send the bill now,’ Sam says. ‘Then you’ll at least get paid in sixty days.’

‘What?’ I shriek. ‘But I need the money now. Otherwise I can’t even buy a loaf, let alone all the stuff I need for this christening I’ve got to do. It’s in three weeks. Shit, Sam. How can I make some money quickly?’

He looks me up and down. ‘Topless model?’

‘Have to get implants first.’

‘True. Lottery?’

‘Too touch and go.’

‘Millionaire then.’ He smiles, pulling me towards him and giving me a sympathetic hug. ‘Charm the pants off Chris Tarrant and win yourself a cool million. The questions are easy.’

‘No they’re not,’ I say gloomily. ‘Not for someone like me they aren’t.’

‘You’re bright.’

‘But I don’t have any general knowledge,’ I mooch. ‘I only know the answers to questions like “What’s the price of Rimmel nail varnish in Superdrug?” and “How many colourways do Nike Air Max trainers come in?” That’s not going to be much help, is it?’

‘Possibly not,’ he says. ‘What about a loan? A small business loan. All you need is a clear business and marketing plan and you’re home and dry. That’s how I’ve managed to start up Freeman PR.’

‘God,’ I groan. ‘You sad bastard. Why do you have to be so bloody sensible?’

‘One of us has to be. And it’s never going to be you, is it?’

‘Guess not. Anyway, I haven’t got a clue how to go about doing one of those plan things. The only thing I ever plan is what I’m having for dinner. Can’t you do it while I’m watching Coronation Street?’

‘No.’

‘Thanks,’ I grump. ‘Fat lot of use you are. This whole catering thing was your idea, you know.’

‘Calm down.’ Sam pats my shoulder and takes a noisy gulp of tea. ‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. I just said I wouldn’t do it for you. You have to learn, otherwise you’ll have no idea how it’s all supposed to work.’

‘You’ll help then?’ I brighten.

‘Course.’ He hugs me quickly before standing up and draining his tea in one last gulp. ‘You might be sodding useless but you’re practically my sister. Look, give me a ring in the week and we’ll sort it out.’

‘Thanks,’ I say, seeing him to the door. ‘Oh, and Sam?’

‘Yes?’ He spins round, an odd look on his face. It’s the same look I saw through the darkness when we shared a bed at Poppy’s mum and dad’s and for a second I feel distinctly funny inside. I’m not sure I like it.

‘Thanks for getting rid of that spider.’

‘Any time, Simpson.’ He shrugs, rummaging for his car keys.





Chapter 12


I bet Max is a complete Mummy’s boy. Over the next few weeks, as I try to plan menus for my next two bookings, he calls me no less than fourteen times. Honestly! It’s enough to make you spit. Still, I call-dodge quite successfully, until one Thursday when I completely forget myself and snatch up the phone. Sam lent me enough money to tide me over, so I could provide the food for the christening of Baby Ellis of Lewishan and I expect this is Mrs Ellis calling to confirm her views on the cake.

‘Katie?’

It’s him.

‘No,’ I almost shout, slamming down the phone. Then I ring Janice at her office. If the line’s busy he’ll have no chance of getting through again. I’m going to have to be more careful in future.

‘I saw Max today,’ she announces, when she hears it’s me. ‘In a planning meeting.’

‘That’s nice for you.’

‘Why are you screening his calls?’

‘He said that?’

‘Yes. So why? And don’t lie.’

‘Dunno. Because I can?’

‘You’re mad.’