Christmas at Claridge's Read Online Free Page B

as Stella pinned a dart and the fabric moulded beneath her bust.
    ‘What for? Our lives are perfect the way they are.’
    ‘Mmm.’
    Stella rotated her ninety degrees so that she was looking at the wall and the series of framed black and white photos Clem had taken of her and Tom during the phase when she’d fancied
being a photographer. She studied her brother’s floppy brown hair, which always fell over his left eye, and the slight gap between his teeth, which gave him the endearing, scampish look girls
fells for time and again. Not that he ever noticed. He had been with Clover for five years now and was as loyal as a puppy. The only reason he hadn’t proposed to Clover yet, Clem knew, was
because he worried about her and wanted to see her more settled first.
    ‘I’m just wondering whether I need to make some changes. Tom’s really pissed off this time. I messed up big style.’
    ‘He’ll have forgiven you already, you know he will. He hasn’t got a resentful bone in his body, that one.’
    ‘He says I have to grow up.’
    ‘But you are grown up,’ Stella pouted prettily, as though the slight was as directed at her as at Clem. ‘You live in this great flat—’
    ‘With him – which he bought off Mum and Dad. Paying him rent is like giving back my pocket money.’
    ‘You have a cracking job.’
    ‘At his company.’
    Stella pulled back from her position on the floor and looked up at her, as though she was trying to be difficult.
    ‘See what I mean? I can’t cook. You and Tom make everything or else I get a take-out.’
    ‘Or go without,’ Stella reproved, knowing that Clem’s lack of interest in food was one of the reasons for her spectacular figure.
    ‘And I can’t drive. I get buses and cabs everywhere.’
    ‘Yeah, but what d’you need to drive for in London? Parking’s a nightmare and we both know your car would be permanently clamped. Or you’d forget where you left
it.’
    ‘But what if I want to go into the countryside?’
    Stella shot her such a pained look that for a moment Clem wondered whether she’d accidentally swallowed a pin.
    ‘Yeah OK, so not that. But you know, I might want to go to . . . Clapham, one day.’
    ‘You never go south of Hyde Park, east of Ladbroke Grove, west of Westbourne Grove or North of North Ken. This is your patch. Why go anywhere else?’
    Clem sighed. ‘I just think I should have some resolutions this year. For Tom’s sake. Be a better sister, flatmate, employee, person.’
    ‘Like what then?’
    ‘I dunno.’ Clem stared across into Mrs Crouch’s cluttered flat, where the lampshades were draped with fringed scarves and her china figurine collection adorned every surface.
‘I could promise to clean the flat once a week.’ Her eyes scanned the stacked up dirty dishes, the fashion and gossip magazines thrown like scatter cushions across the sofa, the leather
jacket still weeping quietly in the middle of the floor, her clothes overflowing from her bedroom . . .
    ‘Well, get a cleaner at least,’ Stella grimaced. ‘No need to go overboard.’
    ‘Yes, you’re right,’ Clem agreed gratefully. ‘I’ll hire a cleaner. And I’ll learn to cook.’
    Stella arched one finely plucked eyebrow.
    Clem held up her index finger. ‘One thing. I’ll learn to cook one thing really well.’ An idea came to her. ‘Like lasagne. That’s Tom’s favourite, and besides,
I’m fed up of people talking about béchamel like it’s a private club.’
    ‘All right. I’ll join you in that if you can find a hot Italian to teach you. What else?’
    ‘And I’ll learn to drive. I should have done it years ago.’
    Stella pulled a face, as if she was sucking on a lemon. ‘Well, if it’ll make you happy.’
    ‘I just want to make it up to him, that’s all. I’m fed up with being everyone’s favourite disappointment.’
    ‘Hey!’ Stella protested, flicking a length of material against her leg. ‘Enough of that. You are deeply lovable and we wouldn’t