Gemma Burgess - The Dating Detox - A laugh out loud book for anyone who’s ever had a disastrous date!

Published by Avon an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2009

This ebook edition published by HarperCollins Publishers in 2017

Copyright © Gemma Burgess 2009

Gemma Burgess asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © 2017 ISBN: 9780007332823

Version: 2016-10-31

For Anika and Paul

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Epilogue

The Dating Guide

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

Nine months ago

I knew the second I walked into this party that it wouldn’t be any fun. Every person here looked around when we walked in. Then they welcomed Rick and ignored me. That was two hours ago and now here I am, in my stupid librarian costume, sitting in the kitchen alone, trying to enjoy myself and failing. Very. Badly.

My friends aren’t here, which doesn’t help. They’re all having dinner together in a pub in Westbourne Grove. I wish I was with them. But I have to be here. My boyfriend Rick is here. He is friends with the guy who’s throwing this party. Or he knows a guy who knows him. Something like that.

Where the hell is he, anyway? I haven’t actually seen Rick in ages, but I don’t want to be one of those socially-needy girlfriends. Especially after last night. Hell, people at this party are unfriendly. Perhaps they don’t get that I’m dressed as an ironic geek.

The theme is ‘Come As Your Childhood Ambition’, and I’m surrounded by sexy nurses and Pink Ladies and ballerinas and air hostesses. (Aspiring to jobs that don’t come with a revealing/girly costume doesn’t seem to have occurred to these women as five-year-olds.) I should have come as Prime Minister or something. But I really did want to be a librarian. The men are dressed as Indiana Jones and Luke Skywalker and knights and things like that.

For God’s sake, I’m 28 years old. I can handle an unfriendly party, can’t I?

We’re in a large flat just off Kensington Church Street, and it’s packed. It’s just the kind of party I usually love. Lots of people having loud conversations and being funny and silly. I don’t know anyone, so I ought to just flick the insta-banter switch, go forth and jazz-hands myself around the party, conquering friends. I tried to do that earlier, but they just seemed to not hear me, or look through me. Or something. So I don’t want to try again. If only my friends were here.

I wonder how much longer I can sit in this stupid kitchen, pretending to read and send non-existent texts. This is so not me.

I wish I didn’t look so dowdy. I’m wearing a tweed skirt and carrying a pince-nez and a stack of books. I felt terribly chic and witty when I was getting ready, now I just feel drab and lost. I could go home. But that might upset Rick. Plus, they’re his friends, and I would really like to get to know them better. I’ve never really met any of them before.

Seriously, where the sweet hell is Rick? He seems stressed tonight. I know his work is crazy at the moment. He was texting me about it the other night. Seeing him less is probably good for our relationship anyway. I just hang out with my best friends when he’s busy. Or hang out by myself in the kitchen at parties where everyone’s a bit weird and unfriendly. That’s good fun too. (Sigh.)

‘Are you a teacher?’ says a guy who just walked into the kitchen. He’s dressed as a cricketer. (How imaginative.)

‘Librarian,’ I say, and add, in my best librarian tone, ‘Shhhh!’

He frowns slightly, gets a beer out of the fridge and says ‘Freeeeeak…’ under his breath as he walks away.

See?

I repeat my mantra (‘posture is confidence, silence is poise’) to myself and smoke another cigarette.

That’s it, I’m going to look for Rick. Kitchen, living room, dining room, balcony, second balcony…no, no, no, no, no. Just people who look around at me, see that I’m not interesting enough to bother with, and turn back to each other to keep talking. Fuck me, I hate this party…Sheesh, this place is packed. So many doors. He wouldn’t have left without me, would he? Maybe he’s near the front—oh, here—

Oh my oh my oh my oh my God.

Rick, on a bed, with nothing on but his judge’s wig, straddled by a near-naked Pink Lady. It’s Frenchy. I can tell because she’s still wearing her Pink Lady jacket and it’s got ‘Frenchy’ embroidered on the back.

They’re having sex, holy shit, they’re having sex. It takes a few seconds before they even notice I’m standing in the doorway. Then they both look around at once. (People look so odd when they’re having sex. No wonder I’ve never understood the whole porn thing.)

‘Fuck!’ says Rick, and then lies back on the bed, pushing the girl off him. She giggles and nearly falls off the bed.

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here now.

I back out of the doorway as quickly as I can, stack of books and pince-nez in my left hand and my dull little librarian’s bag over my right shoulder, and dash for the front door.

I feel sick. I can’t breathe. How could he? How could he do that to me? I’ve got to get out of here. As I open the front door, I hear people behind me whooping. They must have seen him with the Pink Lady too. They’re all laughing. I hate those people. I hate them.

How could he do that? Is he even going to follow me? Is he even going to say anything? How could he do that? When I’m here, I’m at the same fucking party ? How could Frenchy do that? She was always my favourite Pink Lady.