“Thank God.” She exhales heavily. ‘I am in such a dilemma. I am just outside Selfridges with a hundred bags, and I can’t move! You are going to have to come here and help me carry them to the train.”
“What?” I hissed in a lowered tone so Jackie wouldn’t hear. “You got me out of a meeting with the management team because you have too many shopping bags to carry home? That’s the emergency?”
“Yes!” She exclaims. “I’m stranded, and Mom says I must be home in an hour! I didn’t realise until I went to the boot section and once I had bought the three pairs of boots I realised that I couldn’t lift everything! I had to call for a security guard, and he helped get me to the door with the bags but with an appalling attitude considering how much I had purchased, complaining that it wasn’t in the job description-”
“Callie,” I cut in, furious. “Do you realise I am working? Do you realise that you cannot call one of your shopping sagas an emergency and demand I leave a meeting for it?”
“It’s 10. 30 on a Monday morning. Why the hell are you not in school?”
“Keep your knickers on; it’s not like you’ve got an important job like Tristan.” She yawns. “So, how long will you be then?”
“You’d better pray that I don’t come down there, Callie. Because if I do, you are going to find a stiletto lodged deep into your arsehole. Now Fuck off!” I slam down the phone.
Unbelievable.
Jackie coughs behind me. I whip round to face her.
“That sounds like quite a dilemma,” she purrs. “Your poor sister.”
I shot her a venomous look. “It’s not in your job description to listen to private calls.” “And it’s not in yours to take them.” She fires back.
“Go back to your hashtagging, Jackie.”
“I doubt you even know what that means.” She rolled her eyes.
“I am very aware of the usage.” I snatch paper from my desk and scribble furiously. “Have you forgotten I’m the head of IT Support?”
I put the paper down on her keyboard. “Hashtag this, Jackie.”
#GOFUCKYOURSELF
Charlie
“Hello?” I call out from the hallway, flinging off my sneakers. It’s 7. 30pm on Monday evening, and I’m already waiting for the weekend.
Cat, Julie, Suze, and I have all shared a flat in Kentish Town for five years.
It would have been perfect if the mice hadn’t moved in around the same time as us, but hey, you know what they say about London you are never more than a metre away from a rat.
Cat teaches drama in a school in Highgate. It’s so posh that doctors can’t afford to send their kids there. Cat said that all the kids have their own drivers to leave them to school and that Tony Blairs’ kids applied but couldn’t get in.
Julie is a junior lawyer for a publishing firm in Liverpool Street and is flourishing due to her sociopathic personality. We made her take a test once, and let’s just say, from the results, we will never cross her.
No one really understands Suze’s job, something to do with logistics.
It’s Julie’s flat, a fact she will never let us forget. It’s even woven into her chat-up lines. What do you do? I’m a lawyer and a landlord.
We’ve never been able to work out how she owns a four-bedroom North London flat on her wages, even if it is outdated and riddled with mice. You need old money for bricks like this.
When we first met Julie, she dazzled us with her welcoming charm. Sit down, girls, welcome to your new home. Cat, don’t worry about washing up, dear, I will do that. Of course, it doesn’t matter that you split your tea on the carpet Charlie, let me just clear that up for you.
The honeymoon period lasted about 5 days. Then it was plates smashing, daily screaming sessions, and a hole kicked in Cat’s bed when she took more than six minutes to have a shower.
We continue to live there because we’re too scared to hand our notice in to Julie. The same reason she’s never been dumped by a bloke.
Suze is sprawled on the sofa watching a cooking show.
“Hey,” I say, throwing myself into the armchair. “I thought you were supposed to be at Yoga tonight?
“I was, but I didn’t want to overexert myself,” she explains between mouthfuls of scone and clotted cream. “I booked into spinning tomorrow, so I didn’t want to ruin that by doing Yoga tonight.”
She waves the scone in the air. “And this is a keto scone, so no harm done!”
“But you didn’t go to Pilates last night because of Yoga tonight.” I frown, confused.
She waves away the question. “Like faffing about in leggings trying to find my inner beauty is going to do me any good. Didn’t you hear? I’m going spinning tomorrow! That’s 600 calories gone in an hour! I need the energy for it.”
“Sure.” I give her a blank look.
“Hey, Charlie.” Cat breezes out of the bedroom with a post-coital glow on her face, with Stevie trailing after her.
They’ve been hooking up ever since Cat tagged along to my last work drinks. Loudly. She’s become a lot more adventurous in the sex department. They have gadgets and devices that look like they need manuals.
“It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” I raise my eyebrows. She shrugs. “It’s the only time we get to ourselves.” “With Suze in the flat?” I wrinkle my nose.
“If we don’t have some sexy time while she is in the flat, we’d be celibate,” Stevie replies. That’s true. Suze books a lot of gym classes but never leaves the flat.
Cat eyes me. “You look stressed.”
I reach over and pour a large glass of wine from the bottle Suze has started. “No, I’m not.” I sigh. “This is the most chilled I’ve ever been in my life.” “So, have you thought about your birthday anymore?” Charlie asks excitedly.
“I told you this topic is not open for discussion.”
Suze looks at me. “29.. nearly 30… that’s frightening. Speeding towards 40 now”.
“Yes, Suze.” I give her a filthy look. “I am very aware of the fact I’m aging.. can you please stop emailing me that picture with all the cats at the door saying that they’ve heard I’m nearly 40 and not married?”
“But it’s funny. At least you have some love interest this year, better than last year.”
She tilts her head to the side, studying me. “Although I never hear you having sex.”
“Suze,” I grit my teeth. “Stop keeping tabs on my bedroom routine.” “You need to do something regularly for it to become a routine.” I suck in sharply. She had a point.