City Girl in Training Read Online Free Page B

girl in a bathrobe and a bad mood.
    Oh, good start.
    Having gravely offended the next door neighbour, I’d now got my new flatmate out of the shower.
    And if I hadn’t already known just how bad I looked—the lift had mirrored walls—her expression would have left me in no doubt.
    â€˜You must be Philly Gresham,’ she said, with a heaven-help-us sigh. ‘I’m Sophie Harrington. You’d better come in.’
    â€˜Thanks.’ I stepped into the hall, still clinging to my suitcase and unwilling to put it down. The floor was pale polished hardwood and I didn’t want tomake a mess. ‘I’ve had a bit of an accident,’ I said, unnecessarily. But I felt someone had to fill that huge, unwelcoming silence. ‘The zip broke.’
    Sophie’s older sister, Kate, appeared behind her and, taking one look at me, said, ‘Good grief, did you swim here?’ Then, kinder, she said, ‘I’ll show you your room. You can dump that and have a hot shower while Sophie makes a pot of tea. You look as if you could do with a cup.’
    That had to be the understatement of the year.
    Sophie didn’t look as if making a pot of tea had been part of her immediate plans, but after another sigh—just to reinforce the message—she flounced off.
    â€˜Take no notice of my little sister,’ Kate said as she led the way. ‘She had other plans for your room. She’ll get over it.’
    â€˜Oh?’ I said politely, imagining a study, or a work-room.
    â€˜There’s a stunning new man at work. He’s just moved down from Aberdeen and he’s looking for somewhere to live. She’d planned to seduce him with low-rent accommodation.’ She glanced back at me, her expression solemn, but her eyes danced with humour. ‘A mistake, don’t you think? Suppose he moved in and then brought home a succession of equally stunning girls?’
    â€˜Nothing but trouble,’ I agreed, with equal solemnity.
    We exchanged a look that suggested that, two years older than Sophie, we were both too old, too wise toever do anything that stupid and I decided that, while the jury was out on Sophie, I was going to like Kate.
    â€˜I was quite relieved when Aunt Cora phoned and asked if we could put you up, to be honest. Sophie threw a tantrum but she knows that when Aunt Cora commands…’ She obviously thought I knew what she was talking about.
    â€˜Aunt Cora?’
    â€˜My mother’s sister. This is her flat. A small part of the spoils of a very lucrative divorce settlement. Happily she prefers to live in France so we get to house-sit.’
    â€˜At a price.’
    â€˜We just pay the expenses, which admittedly are not low…’ Then, ‘Oh, you mean you .’ And she laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it. Sophie’ll come round.’ She stopped. ‘This is your room.’
    And she opened a door to the kind of bedroom I’d only ever seen in lifestyle articles in the Sunday supplements. A blond wood floor, taupe walls, a low double bed with real blankets and the bed-linen was just that. Linen. It was spare, stylish and, in comparison with my single-bedded room at home with its floral wallpaper, shelves full of favourite childhood books and menagerie of stuffed animals—very grown up.
    â€˜It’s lovely,’ I said. Still unwilling to put down my suitcase and spoil the perfection.
    â€˜It looks too much like a department store-room setting for my taste. It needs living in.’ She glanced at me, standing practically to attention, afraid to touch anything, and grinned. ‘Relax, Philly. Don’t be afraidto muss it up and make yourself at home.’ She crossed the room and threw open another door. ‘You’ve got an en suite shower. And this,’ she said, ignoring the reality of my ruined suitcase, ‘is a walk-in wardrobe.’
    It didn’t take a theoretical physicist to work out that I