Not Quite Perfect Read Online Free

time!’
    ‘Coming!’ shouts Will. ‘Just got to take this penalty to win the World Cup for England.’
    ‘I’m having a poo!’ bellows Lily.
    ‘Breakfast in paradise, darling?’ asks Steve, grabbing a banana on his way through.
    ‘Oh yeah, baby, it’s like a week in Mauritius.’
    ‘Bless you, Mummy.
Achoo!
’ says Alfie mishearing.
    Rachel removes the second batch of cereal from the microwave and pours a pot of something pink, gloopy and organic all over it.
    ‘Naaaaaooooo, Mummy, want bananaaaaa!’
    ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Alfred!’
    ‘Maaaarrrrm,’ shouts Lily, ‘I’ve run out of bog roll!’
    ‘Did you teach her to call it that?’ Rachel asks Steve.
    ‘Darling, I thought you were the queen of spade-calling. Got to dash.’
    ‘You’re a bit early, aren’t you?’
    ‘Lots to do, my sweet. Got to start early so I can be home on time. Let’s talk later. Properly? Over a bottle of something nice? Love you.’ He plants a kiss on her cheek and on each available child’s head.
    ‘Bye Lils!’
    ‘Bye, Daddy. Love you.’ Her voice is sweet and charming and then changes as she shouts, ‘Maaarrrm!’
    ‘OK, Lily. I’m coming!’
    ‘Mummy, banana!’ insists Alfie.
    ‘OK, OK. Will, please can you sort out your brother while I attend to your sister.’
    Lily looks disappointed at Rachel’s entrance.
    ‘I want Daddy.’
    ‘Well, unfortunately you have Mummy.’
    ‘Oh.’
    Five minutes later, the ladies of the house come downstairs to a suspiciously peaceful kitchen.
    Rachel looks pleased and then horrified. ‘Will, what have you done?’ she cries, seeing that Alfie’s face is smeared with the remains of a packet of Giant Chocolate Buttons, which his obliging brother has tipped over his cereal.
    ‘What? He likes them.’
    Rachel is about to open her mouth when her phone beeps with a text. It’s from her friend, Sue: ‘Fancy Baby Bump and Grind aka Bounce and Rhyme at the library at 10?’
    Rachel fires off a reply: ‘In the absence of an offer from George Clooney, you’re on. Got to pop home after school run. Save me a tambourine.’ And then as an afterthought, ‘Shall I text Christa?’
    The answer pings back: ‘Good idea.’
    Christa, who has recently moved from Switzerland, is clearly pleased to be asked: ‘
Danke viels
. Roger and I would that love.
Bis bis
.’
    Rachel smiles and takes a deep breath, making ready to coax, cajole and nag her family out of the house.
    Emma walks into Allen Chandler’s impressive, marble lobby. She smiles at Derek on reception, who gives her a wink and a thumbs-up.
    ‘Hold that lift!’ orders a voice.
    Emma turns to see Joel Riches marching through the door radiating an air of self-importance. He ignores Derek, who in turn shakes his head in disgust. Emma is tempted to pretend she hasn’t heard, but knows this won’t work. Joel is a persistent force in her life. Every book she publishes or pitches for, he’s there ‘thinking outside the box’ or ‘campaigning above the line’, ready to disassociate himself from things which don’t work and take the glory for things that do. As a member of the ‘say what you mean and mean what you say’ club Emma loathes him.
    ‘Hi, Emma,’ he says with a condescending lilt. ‘So Richard Bennett? It’s either going to be a huge opportunity or a complete drain on resources and the bottom line. Thoughts?’
    Emma bristles at his patronising tone but answers as calmly as she can. ‘I think it’s a formative work for an emerging talent in a brave new world of modern fiction destined to win awards and generate sales and profit for the company,’
    ‘Well done, Emma. Good work,’ he says, which makes Emma want to stave in his head with the manuscript she’s holding. ‘Personally, I prefer something a little meatier. Did I tell you I’d read
Don Quixote
last summer?’
    ‘Several times.’ They have reached the twelfth floor and the lift doors open. ‘Got to dash, Joel. Got a book to