When Good Friends Go Bad Read Online Free Page B
eyes. 'By the way,' he sounded carefully non-committal, 'I didn't want to worry you with this earlier but Meg Lennox called again. Several times. She left an Ashport number on the machine. I didn't answer.'
Georgina found herself doodling a butterfly. It was a nervous habit she'd developed, something she did whenever she was blocked.
'Ashport? Did she say what she wanted?' She kept her eyes lowered.
'Only that it was urgent. "A matter of life and death", apparently.'
Georgina took a moment to shade spots on the wings of the butterfly she'd doodled. The first time she'd heard Nutmeg's voice chirping merrily on the home answerphone, all kinds of unpleasant memories had come flooding back. She'd been filled with righteous indignation for her friend Bella and, remembering other elements of that night at the Marlow Arms, a sense of dread for herself.
'Matter of life and death?' she repeated quietly, almost to herself.
'I guess some things don't change.' She thought she sensed an undercurrent of animosity in his tone, the emphasis on 'some'. 'I'll let you deal with that one, shall I?' he added.
He was cross with her. She just knew it. He'd had enough of her moods and bossiness. Suddenly she was overcome with guilt and fear. 'I'm sorry. I do love you.' It was whispered, part apology, part plea.
'I know.' Lightly he kissed two fingers and planted them on her forehead. 'I'll call Heal's tomorrow.'
As she stared past the rhododendrons towards the massacred hedge, she felt the pencil snap in her hand.
Chapter 2
APRIL 1998
By the time the marshal had raised his yellow flag, Jen's heart was climbing into her throat; her palms sweating, adrenalin surging through her veins like a shot of cocaine. Was she petrified? Excited? Out of her bleeding mind? For a few chest-pounding seconds, as the flag quivered in the air, all she could think of was the first time she and Starkey lay on a bed together, his hands fondling her breasts, sliding gently over her navel, flirting with the lace of her skimpy pants until her own hand clamped over his to stop him. Another memory – darker, disturbing – tried to sneak in, but she pushed it away, her clammy fingers tightening over the steering wheel.
She'd been thinking of Starkey a lot lately, not surprising perhaps. Ollie had triggered so many memories of the first boy she'd ever loved. Quite simply Starkey had broken her heart and it had taken years of sleepless nights to accept she was better off without him. So how bloody unfair for these flashbacks to show up today, like a harbinger of doom, as if proof she were facing imminent death.
Concentrate, she scolded herself as she focused back on the marshal, the air thick with exhaust fumes and the sound of revving engines. Finally, the flag dropped. Jen rammed her foot down on the accelerator as she lifted the other off the clutch and the car lunged forward, swerving on the tarmac. The cheering crowd was a blur.
What – shit, that was close! – was it Ollie had said? 'Keep your elbows bent and hold the wheel lightly, don't clutch it like you're in the last stage of rigor mortis. All that straight-arm, leaning-back stuff from the movies is so fake – you can't control a car that way.'
And then from the passenger seat his hand had moved to rest heavily on her shoulder, his strong work-blistered fist between hers on the wheel, his manly cheek so close she could feel his breath as he steered them round a practice curve. 'Remember, slow in, fast out. Slow in, fast out.'
'Are we still talking about car racing?' she'd teased.
But Ollie had been serious. 'Stop messing about, Jen. You could get hurt out there.'
A car overtook her on the left, two more on the right. In a flash she forgot everything except that everyone was passing her. She dropped gears straight from fourth to second and jammed the accelerator unmercifully. Too busy smiling at another driver's startled face as she zoomed past, her foot was still floored as the car flew into a
Georgina found herself doodling a butterfly. It was a nervous habit she'd developed, something she did whenever she was blocked.
'Ashport? Did she say what she wanted?' She kept her eyes lowered.
'Only that it was urgent. "A matter of life and death", apparently.'
Georgina took a moment to shade spots on the wings of the butterfly she'd doodled. The first time she'd heard Nutmeg's voice chirping merrily on the home answerphone, all kinds of unpleasant memories had come flooding back. She'd been filled with righteous indignation for her friend Bella and, remembering other elements of that night at the Marlow Arms, a sense of dread for herself.
'Matter of life and death?' she repeated quietly, almost to herself.
'I guess some things don't change.' She thought she sensed an undercurrent of animosity in his tone, the emphasis on 'some'. 'I'll let you deal with that one, shall I?' he added.
He was cross with her. She just knew it. He'd had enough of her moods and bossiness. Suddenly she was overcome with guilt and fear. 'I'm sorry. I do love you.' It was whispered, part apology, part plea.
'I know.' Lightly he kissed two fingers and planted them on her forehead. 'I'll call Heal's tomorrow.'
As she stared past the rhododendrons towards the massacred hedge, she felt the pencil snap in her hand.
Chapter 2
APRIL 1998
By the time the marshal had raised his yellow flag, Jen's heart was climbing into her throat; her palms sweating, adrenalin surging through her veins like a shot of cocaine. Was she petrified? Excited? Out of her bleeding mind? For a few chest-pounding seconds, as the flag quivered in the air, all she could think of was the first time she and Starkey lay on a bed together, his hands fondling her breasts, sliding gently over her navel, flirting with the lace of her skimpy pants until her own hand clamped over his to stop him. Another memory – darker, disturbing – tried to sneak in, but she pushed it away, her clammy fingers tightening over the steering wheel.
She'd been thinking of Starkey a lot lately, not surprising perhaps. Ollie had triggered so many memories of the first boy she'd ever loved. Quite simply Starkey had broken her heart and it had taken years of sleepless nights to accept she was better off without him. So how bloody unfair for these flashbacks to show up today, like a harbinger of doom, as if proof she were facing imminent death.
Concentrate, she scolded herself as she focused back on the marshal, the air thick with exhaust fumes and the sound of revving engines. Finally, the flag dropped. Jen rammed her foot down on the accelerator as she lifted the other off the clutch and the car lunged forward, swerving on the tarmac. The cheering crowd was a blur.
What – shit, that was close! – was it Ollie had said? 'Keep your elbows bent and hold the wheel lightly, don't clutch it like you're in the last stage of rigor mortis. All that straight-arm, leaning-back stuff from the movies is so fake – you can't control a car that way.'
And then from the passenger seat his hand had moved to rest heavily on her shoulder, his strong work-blistered fist between hers on the wheel, his manly cheek so close she could feel his breath as he steered them round a practice curve. 'Remember, slow in, fast out. Slow in, fast out.'
'Are we still talking about car racing?' she'd teased.
But Ollie had been serious. 'Stop messing about, Jen. You could get hurt out there.'
A car overtook her on the left, two more on the right. In a flash she forgot everything except that everyone was passing her. She dropped gears straight from fourth to second and jammed the accelerator unmercifully. Too busy smiling at another driver's startled face as she zoomed past, her foot was still floored as the car flew into a
Readers choose
Adam Nicolson
William Todd Rose
Sandy Wright
Gary Paulsen
Christina Clark
Emma Miller
Brian Wilkerson