Darn It! Read Online Free

me,’ said Brenda. ‘I’ve done my part by showing you the dress, the rest is up to you.’
    ‘How much is it?’ asked Nicki.
    Brenda mentioned a sum that nearly made her cry, but she knew it was the perfect dress and a fraction of the price it would have originally cost.
    ‘Ok,’ she said bravely, and handed over the money with a heavy heart. That was the entire budget blown for her work wardrobe. But at least she’d look the part on the live show.
    She rang Sorcha to update her with her progress.
    ‘And you really have nothing else you can wear for the reporting aspect?’ asked Sorcha.
    ‘No,’ said Nicki.
    ‘I could lend you money,’ Sorcha began.
    ‘No,’ said Nicki, emphatically. ‘I don’t know how I’d pay you back, it would be way too stressful.’
    ‘When you get the job you’ll be well able to pay me back,’ said Sorcha.
    ‘That’s just it,’ protested Nicki. ‘I’m not going to get the job!’
    ‘Not with that attitude,’ her friend retorted.
    ‘Look, can we skip the whole laws of attraction crap, where you tell me to envision myself in the job with a hunk of a husband and this time next year I’m in Cannes with Colin Farrell.’ Sorcha was a big fan of self-help books.
    ‘I think that you could do better than Colin Farrell, quite frankly.’
    ‘I love your faith in me, but could you perhaps offer me a solution that doesn’t use new age philosophy?’
    ‘How about new age technology?’
    ‘That’ll work.’
    ‘YouTube,’
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’s full of crafty people with great ideas, I get great make-up ideas on there,’ said Sorcha enthusiastically. ‘There’ll be lots of ideas on there about how to rip up your old rubbish outfits and create something fresh and new.’
    ‘This is me you’re talking about,’ said Nicki. ‘I doubt I can even thread a needle.’
    ‘Get Katie to do it,’ said Sorcha. ‘Small fingers.’
    ‘I thought child labour went out with the Victorian age.’
    ‘You’re just preparing her for the rough and tough working world,’ said Sorcha.
    ‘At three?’
    ‘Think about it,’ said Sorcha. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’
    A couple of hours later Nicki was engrossed in YouTube videos showing how to upcycle your clothes into something fabulous. Armed with a basic sewing kit she’d procured in an open all night pharmacy, she was ready to go. Kind of.
    She pulled out a long ankle length pale blue skirt, bought a few years ago when she’d been going through her bohemian phase. It was unfashionably long, but maybe it wouldn’t be that bad if she cut it down to size and sewed it into a navy blue string top. It might look like one of those two toned dresses she’d seen in the designer boutique.
    The women on the YouTube videos made it look so easy. And really was there that much to it? How hard was it to sew a straight line anyway?
    She cut most of the material off and tried to raise the hem. It ended up wonky, and the stitches were ridiculously far apart. She tried it on and looked at herself in the mirror. It was asymmetric all right, but nobody in their right mind would think that it was intentional.
    After she had unpicked it numerous times, and re-stitched it she had lost many hours of potential sleep and most of the feeling in her fingers. Then she had to attach the skirt to the top. She dropped Katie off to the child-minders in a semi-daze and made it to the bus, all the time wondering how she was going to come up with a good recorded section for the show.
    Just as she arrived, Alva waltzed out of the studio, surrounded with crew like a celebrity with an entourage. She was wearing a Burberry belted mac, Christian Louboutin heels and an expression of such confidence that Nicki quailed in her wonky hemmed skirt.
    ‘May the best woman win,’ she grinned, walking past her.
    Nicki knew that she shouldn’t feel threatened. After all, she was a grown woman with a daughter, but she instantly felt like she was at school facing off against one