Nikki Moore - New Year at the Ritz

'So, I've got a bit of a dilemma.' Putting her phone on speaker, Frankie propped it on the arm of the sofa and lay back against the purple patterned cushions. She pictured Kate in her comfy lounge, blue jeans on, with wellies, anoraks, leads and dog collars filling the long hallway.

'Go on.' Kate's voice filled the room.

Frankie closed her eyes, wishing her friend was here instead of in a small leafy village just outside Milton Keynes. 'I got home from seeing dad yesterday, and-'

'He still being a bit overprotective?'

'Yep. It's driving me mad.'

'Ah, bless. Well, you can see why, Hun. I mean, after your mum, then what happened to you-'

'It's been a tough year,' Frankie cleared her throat, 'anyway, I got this letter and it's a clue, I'm supposed to go to Knightsbridge-'

'What? Who's it from? Read it to me.'

Frankie grabbed the letter and did so, adding in the bit about lack of postmark and scented paper. 'So what do you think?'

'Well, it sounds cool, but who do you think is behind it?' Kate's voice was cautious and Frankie was reminded of their teenage years in Southampton, the mornings they'd sit in the back of Kate's mum's people carrier, Kate's younger brothers chattering away while the girls talked about school and boys and Kate's mum would add in dry, no-nonsense comments. They were fond memories and sometimes Frankie missed those years, when life had been simpler, though they hadn’t known it back then. As teens, everything had felt intense and dramatic and like the world would implode if the boy they had a crush on didn’t like them back or the Topshop dress they were after wasn’t in stock, or if they got a C grade for an essay instead of an A.

‘You still there?’ Kate asked.

'Yes, sorry. I don't know who it is.' Frankie frowned, opening her eyes.

'Oh, come on! It'll be someone you know, it has to be. Delivered to your home address, your favourite perfume? And that don’t be late comment.'

'What do you mean?'

'Come on Frankie, you're late for everything. Whoever sent it knows you.' Pausing. 'D'you think the letter could be from Christian?'

Frankie's short square gold nails dug into her palms. 'Unlikely. I haven't heard from him since we broke up. Even when I went to get my stuff once I was up to it, he wasn’t around. He wasn’t interested in seeing me. I think he took me ending it with him pretty badly. So I doubt it very much. Besides, he's in Bali at the moment.'

'Oh, yes. You missed out there on the holiday in paradise. But then again, money isn’t everything.'

'Yes, that’s what I keep telling myself.' Frankie muttered, scowling at the peeling ceiling above her head.

'What’s that? Is everything okay?’

Yeah, just hunky-dory. I live in a rough part of London, have no money, a job I can barely tolerate, debts coming out of my ears, and will probably end up with severe pneumonia because of the insane damp climbing my walls. But apart from that, it’s all good .

‘Frankie?’ Kate’s voice was strained, ‘You’re worrying me.’

Self-pity is not attractive ! Frankie gave herself a proverbial kick up the arse. You have your health back, your independence and the freedom to make choices. More than some people have. She made her voice breezy. ‘Ignore me, everything is fine.’

‘Okay. If you say so.’ Kate said dubiously, but let Frankie off the hook. ‘If it’s not Christian, who else could it be?’

‘I don’t know. Davey?’

‘I thought he was gay?’

'Oh, he totally is, but it could be his idea of a joke.’ She sucked in her cheeks, considering the options. ‘Or maybe a way to remind me romance isn’t dead?’

‘Sounds a bit mean to me. Or a bit extreme, sending you on what could be a wild chase across the city. Do you really think he’d do that?’

‘I- hmmm, maybe not. I don’t know. The hand-writing doesn’t look like his though.’ Her side was aching, so she repositioned the cushion behind her head and crossed her ankles, resting them on the opposite arm of the sofa.

‘Any other likely suspects?' Kate quizzed.

‘No, I-,’ she hesitated.

‘What?'

'There is a guy at work. But…no.’

‘Who? And why not?’

‘Zack. He started a few months ago. He’s a sweetheart and we get on really well. But there isn’t a spark, and I’m not sure if the letter is his style.' Shaking her head, ‘Nah, I can’t see it. We're just friends and I’ve not given him any reason to think otherwise. Besides, it’s too soon.’

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.