Dream a Little Dream Read Online Free

place,’ Natalia continues to natter on. ‘I’m going to get home envy. I know it. Every time I go somewhere new I can’t help but plan through everything I’d do with that blank canvas,’ she chuckles down the phone, disappearing into a land of interior design and all things decorative. It’s no wonder Natalia was snapped up by a huge design house and is given hundreds of thousands of pounds to spend on each new build acquired by the company. So many of their clients have more money than sense, but that’s something Natalia doesn’t mind. She lives, breathes and dreams soft furnishings and can sniff out a Farrow & Ball wall a mile off – giving you not only the name of a particular paint or wallpaper, but the actual catalogue number too. She’s a rare breed. ‘Dan will be absolutely tasteless and shoving any old crap from Ikea in there if given half a chance, but I’m sure Lexie is going to do an amazing job on it – she’s got a whole scrapbook of plans. She showed it to me the other day.’
    ‘Great!’ I interject with more gusto than necessary, not wanting to hear any more about Perfect Lexie. I’d love to say I’m not as bothered by her presence in our lives as I used to be (I’m aware how unhealthy it is to hold a grudge for so long over her perfectness – she can’t help it), but she’ll always be the girl who I got left for, so I don’t really want to sit here hearing my best mate Natalia gas about how fab she is. ‘Pub later?’
    ‘Of course,’ Natalia responds. ‘Where else would I be on a Wednesday night? We’ve got to win our crown back.’
    When we first started pub quizzing we were pretty naff, but somehow over the years we’ve become semi-decent pub quizzers and (thanks to the world of twitter keeping us all up to date on current affairs – yes, I do use it for more than just stalking Jessica Alba’s beautiful Honest Life) we’ve managed to scrape our way to success. A grand total of thirteen times we’ve topped the leader board and won a free round of drinks – no drink tastes as good as a free one and the last time we received one of those was two weeks ago. Last week we lost to a team of local performing art students who we’d never even seen in the pub before. Tonight, it was time to reclaim our winner’s title.
    ‘Sweet. See you there!’ I chirp, putting down my phone, closing my webpages along with the ghastly Facebook invite and immersing myself in my to-do list – a collection of chores that I’m sure aren’t worth the time I spent slaving away at university – or the debt it put me in. The first three bulleted tasks are to pick up dry-cleaning (easy and I love an excuse to get out of the office), phone the DVLA to query the three points Jonathan’s wife Dianne accrued when speeding up the M6 in their Bentley (not entirely sure what they expect me to do) and look into getting Beyoncé tickets for Jonathan’s teenage daughter Harriet and her mates (a gig that has been sold out for at least six months). Not one of those are TV related at all, but I guess that’s the life of a PA – it’s my job to make Jonathan’s life as easy as possible so that he is able to perform to the best of his abilities in his job … which includes making his home life easier too. Well, it takes a pretty understanding wife not to mind the many late nights and weekends of unkept plans, a fact she constantly reminds him of.
    I’m about to look up the number for the DVLA when Jonathan comes out of his glass cubicle and over to my desk.
    ‘Sarah … ?’ he starts with a frown as he looks down at his mobile phone, oblivious to the crumbs that have dusted his black sweater vest.
    ‘Yes, Jonathan?’ I smile, happy to be distracted, hoping he’s got a wonderfully exciting and creative task for me to take on.
    ‘Could you get me a cup of tea? Mine’s cold – oh, and two sugars this time, please,’ he adds, with what appears to be a conspiratorial wink.
    Clearly that’s not