Shari Low - My Best Friend’s Life

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.

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2008

Copyright © Shari Low 2008

Shari Low asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

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Source ISBN: 9781847560124

Ebook Edition © 2009 ISBN: 9780007334964

Version: 2018-06-19

MY BEST FRIEND’S LIFE

by

Shari Low

To Rosina Hill, for your support, your courage

and your huge big heart…

To John, just everything, always…

And to my gorgeous, incredible boys, Callan

and Brad…Now go tidy your rooms.

Title Page MY BEST FRIEND’S LIFE by Shari Low

Copyright

Prologue

Chapter One - Tom, Harry, Forget about Dick

Chapter Two - I Feel the Earth Move

Chapter Three - Don’t Go Changing

Chapter Four

Chapter Five - We Are Family

Chapter Six - The Love Shack

Chapter Seven - Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?

Chapter Eight - These Boots are Made for Walking

Chapter Nine - Doctor Feelgood

Chapter Ten - Many Rivers to Cross

Chapter Eleven - Blowing in the Wind

Chapter Twelve - Man, I Feel Like a Woman

Chapter Thirteen - Have I Told You Lately?

Chapter Fourteen - Do That to Me One More Time

Chapter Fifteen - Stop, in the Name of Love

Chapter Sixteen - Easy

Chapter Seventeen - Baby Love

Chapter Eighteen - I Got You, Babe

Chapter Nineteen - If You Leave Me Now

Chapter Twenty - Unbreak My Heart

Chapter Twenty One - Signed, Sealed, Delivered, I’m Yours

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

The Daily Globe 22 June 2006

The Prime Minister announced today that, in line with European legislation, the government has decided to ease restrictions currently placed on the operation of brothels within the UK.

In this controversial move, it is proposed that from 1 July this year, local authorities will have the power to license and oversee premises engaged in the business of providing sex for payment.

Announcing the new regulations, the Prime Minister released the following statement:

‘It has been clear for some time that current legislation pertaining to the adult entertainment industry is neither realistic nor effective. In recent years we have seen dramatic increases both in the number of arrests for prostitution and in the influx of sex trade workers from other EU countries. This government has concluded that the only progressive, sensible way forward is to legitimise this industry, therefore allowing it to be controlled and regulated.

I’d like to give my firm commitment that I–assisted by a focus group comprised of six cross-party MPs to be called the Adult Entertainment Regulatory Commission–will personally monitor the success of the new guidelines and be fully involved in the forthcoming months in the evolution of progressive policies to further develop this sector.’

The Prime Minister refused to confirm, however, that applications to join the Regulatory Commission reached an unprecedented level, with 91 per cent of government members requesting a position.

Ginny’s bedroom, the village of Farnham Hills, near Chipping Sodbury, Autumn 2007

‘So you mean, like, a penis embargo?’

‘Correct,’ replied Roxy. ‘I’m going to be an official willy-free zone. I’m on a twelve-step male-genital detox programme: Step number one, boyfriend is history. Step number two, I quit my job. Step number three, I recruit my best friend to help me get a new job. Er, Ginny, honey, that’s you.’

There was a pause so pregnant it could have applied to Social Services for free milk vouchers and child benefit.

Roxy waited for a reaction. None. Nada . Okay, so this wasn’t going to plan. Normally she could rely on Ginny to react in exactly the way she’d been reacting to everything Roxy said since they were sitting side by side in the playpen.

Act one: Rolling of eyes.

Act two: Loud tutting noise.

Act three: Adopts the approximate expression of someone who has just discovered that she is chewing a wasp.

Act four: Capitulates, offers sympathy, then digs friend out of big hole.

But no. Ginny was staring mournfully into space, as if she’d slipped into one of those cosmic, out-of-body trances that pass the time while you’re waiting in the bank queue or having a smear test.

‘Ginny?’ she probed, attempting to snap her friend’s focus back to the most important thing in life–herself.

‘What?’

‘Didn’t you hear me? I need help! Ginny, I’m single, I’m unemployed, I’m devastated…I’m desperate!’

From her cramp-inducing position on a tatty beanbag (circa 1990), Ginny looked over at her clapped-out single bed and the female reclining on it–probably the least desperate-looking woman she had ever set eyes on. Roxy’s jet-black hair hung in sleek, shiny slates from her middle parting to her shoulder bones. Her perfect, size twelve, über-toned frame was adorned in her standard uniform of black Prada boot-cut trousers, a black Nicole Farhi cashmere roll-neck and lethal four-inch stiletto Gina boots. Skin: flawless. Nails: perfectly plastic. Make-up: subtle. Breasts: pert. And Ginny just knew without looking that there were no hairs on Roxy’s legs, no hard skin on her feet, and her nethers had applied for permanent residence in Brazil.