Naked in Knightsbridge Read Online Free Page B

circumstances, did she?
    Jools was longing to shift her online sales career into high gear, but she’d arranged to meet Mel in a nearby café to hear all about her trip. She reluctantly trundled down the stairs from her flat and out onto the damp pavement. Outside, buses coughed and mumbled exhaust that made the garage look like a grim nineteenth-century mining town. Through the haze, she narrowly avoided a newly deposited pile of vomit just outside her building. Flip-flops were a little too precarious for this neighbourhood.
    After her latest job rejection – from Lucky Loo ‘We Want You’ Cleaners of Willesden Green (who told her ’we no want you type of clean’) – she’d grabbed the closest thing to hand and lobbed it out the open window into the street. Problem was, it was the left shoe of her only decent pair of flats. So now the choice was between too-small Adidas trainers (which she planned on selling anyway) or £1 Primark flip-flops.
    She checked her watch. Shit, better get moving – Mel didn’t appreciate being left alone around here. She flipped and flopped with determination to Mama Blue’s Café, buoyed by her gift from the hunky hobo and the possibility of making enough of a living to avoid being unceremoniously evicted and/or bashed by the evil, kebab-hoarding Rocco.
    Mel was already waiting inside, hands warming around a steaming double-shot café latte, feet cosily encased in expensive Uggs that were kicked up on a chair. Jools waved and headed to the counter – no such thing as table service at Mama Blue’s.
    She was starving, as usual. She checked the menu for the cheapest item: a coffee and plain-toast combo for a quid.
    ‘ That‘s supposed to be for retirees,’ scowled the barista as she took Jools’ money.
    ‘ Well, as it happens I’m currently retired.’ Jools held her head high. ‘And put some whipped cream on it.’
    ‘ The toast or the coffee?’ the barista snorted.
    Jools shrugged. ‘Both.’
    She lifted Mel’s feet off the chair and squeezed herself into it.
    God, she was only 28 but she felt about a hundred. She deserved that retiree deal.
    ‘ Alright?’ asked Mel, looking pointedly at her feet. ‘Bit cold for flip-flops, isn’t it?’
    ‘ Doing great, thanks. And I can‘t afford new clothes, or shoes, so don’t start.’ replied Jools more snappishly than intended. Hunger did that to her.
    ‘ How’s the job hunt going?’
    ‘ Still looking, but, you know, I have a few ideas.’
    ‘ Your ideas are what got you into this mess. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from social services yet?’
    ‘ Still waiting for my appointment, but I’m sure it’ll go well. They say they’ll back-date the payments.’
    ‘ Good luck with that.’ Mel bit into her pricey-looking almond croissant. Jools couldn’t take her eyes off the flaky goodness.
    ‘ Thanks. You’re very supportive.’
    Somehow, Mel missed the sarcasm. ‘That’s what I’m here for, Jools, to cheer you up.’
    ‘ I think you must be mistaking these convulsions for laughter. I’m actually suppressing the biggest anxiety attack you’ve ever seen.’
    ‘ You can always crash with me if things don’t pick up. There are people who love you, you know.’
    ‘ Well, one person. You.’ Jools took a big slurp of cream to make her life seem less pathetic.
    ‘ What about your dad? I know you hate talking about him, but if things got bad I’m sure you could stay with him couldn’t you?’
    Jools bit into her slice of burnt toast. It was so black that its origins as bread were hard to discern. At least the cream tasted good. ‘Last resort, Mel. That hovel in Tooting is definitely the last resort.’
    ‘ Well, like I said, you’re more than welcome to move in with me. Ever since Michel left . . .’
    Jools interrupted the start of her routine lament with a wracking cough barely masking an underlying ‘Arsehole!’
    Mel frowned. ‘I know you think he’s no good and I agree, he was then. But not