The Godmother Read Online Free Page A

remained a mystery. Why I was dressing up, the same.
    My flat is on the border of Pimlico and Westminster, a stone’s throw from Tate Britain, and still has little shops tucked away down side-streets if you know where to look. The only trouble is, you have to cross a motorway to get there. Not very good for the lungs, that particular death walk. I stocked up on essentials—milk, bread, wine, light beer, limes, hummus, carrot batons and loo paper—and set off home. Then the pub caught my eye. Samira hadn’t called, and though I loved pottering around my flat, it isn’t very big and there is only so much pottering a girl can do. So I ducked into the pub for a quick one. The landlord wasn’t there unfortunately—he’s become a bit of a mate—so after my quick half, I decided to go home. I rang Samira a few more times. Three hours later she called me back. As soon as I heard her voice I knew she was in full swing. “Darling, you’re back. What are you doing?”
    â€œWhat are you doing?” I had a bad habit of hedging my bets. Even when I was desperate.
    â€œI am at a friend’s house. We’re having some drinks and then going to a club, a new one. A friend of Nikki’s has organized the guest list. Come, come, you must.”
    I looked at my watch. It was already nine and now I had her on the phone, I was starting to flag. “Oh, I don’t know. Where are you?”
    â€œRichmond for the moment, but we won’t be here long so get your arse down here.”
    â€œIt’s a bit late…”
    â€œDon’t go all hippy-shit on me, will you? I’m dying to see you.”
    I could hear voices in the background.
    â€œWho are you with?”
    â€œPeople, friends, you know most of them.”
    I doubted it. There was no point schlepping all the way to Richmond if they were coming back into town. “Call me when you’re on your way and I’ll meet you.”
    â€œPerfect. We’ll be half an hour at the most.” Samira ended the call. I knew at once I’d made a mistake. Samira’s hours were not the same hours everyone else kept. I could be waiting, all dolled up, for another three. Maybe I should just go to Richmond. I already had some catching up to do. But you could never catch up, not properly. Evenings that started disjointed, stayed disjointed. The best thing to do would be to have a glass of wine and wait for the call. Then again…Stop it, Tessa—you’re going round in circles.

    Half an hour came and went three times over, by which time I had got myself into a state. I didn’t want to stay at home alone on my first night back watching my tan fade, but I couldn’t face getting dressed up either. I’d been traveling since 5:00 a.m. and was knackered. And anyway, they hadn’t called. Which meant I wanted to go. Even though I didn’t. Eventually the phone rang.
    â€œWhere the hell are you?” I burst out angrily.
    â€œAt home. Sorry—I assumed you’d be out. I was just going to leave a message.”
    â€œOh hi, Fran.”
    â€œTessa, I’m so sorry about today. I really fucked up.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it.”
    â€œYou’re pissed off, I can hear it in your voice.”
    Yoga was all about releasing the anxiety, letting go of grievances, moving on. “Well, I was looking forward to it.” That was an understatement. The thought of coming home was the only reason I’d survived all those lonely evenings in my single-occupancy hut.
    â€œI’m sorry, you know what it’s like.”
    NO, I DON’T.
    â€œNick says you look fantastic: brown, blonde and beautiful,” Francesca added, to appease me. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise, but right now I really need your help.”
    Francesca never asked for help. So I sat up and put my bad mood behind me. “I have a problem,” she said. “Caspar is being a