Chapters (50)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication Page
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Ninteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Letter From the Author
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
‘Soon, I’m sure.’
‘Good. Because if you wait too long I will begin to suspect that she is a figment of your imagination.’
We were almost at the party now and could hear the muffled thump of music up ahead. This was an expensive, quiet street and I could imagine the neighbours being pissed off by this noisy event.
‘I’ve got a photo,’ I said. I now had a number of fully clothed pictures of Charlie on my phone, lots of shots of her smiling or posing for me in my flat. I showed my favourite to Sasha. Charlie was sitting on the edge of my bed, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, her hair all messed up, a shy smile on her face.
‘Nice!’
‘Gorgeous, isn’t she? I can’t quite believe she wants to go out with geeky old me.’
‘You’re a good-looking guy, Andrew. You don’t realise that, which is one of the reasons you’re not a prick. But I bet you and Charlie look great together.’
We arrived at the house, where a girl was being sick on the front steps.
Sasha said, ‘I don’t know if I’m the mood for this. Shall we go back to mine and watch a film? I think Blair Witch is on Channel 4 tonight.’
From inside the house, ‘Blurred Lines’ started to play and somebody whooped.
‘Blair Witch sounds a lot less horrific than this party,’ I said.
We walked back to Sasha’s, which took us past the park. On the way, I told her about Charlie being followed.
‘Bit daft, walking through the park at night,’ Sasha said. ‘Oh, did you hear about Harriet?’
‘Her New Year party? You already told me.’
‘No, not that. She was burgled. Someone broke into her flat – it was last weekend.’
‘Oh shit.’
‘I don’t think they took much, but she said they completely trashed the place. They destroyed all her old photo albums, ripped them up and poured water all over them. They smashed up her computer and emptied out all the cupboards and drawers, just totally wrecked everything. Get this: they stole all her underwear. It’s the only thing they took. Though just the nice lingerie, not the everyday stuff.’
‘That’s freaky,’ I said. ‘My God.’
‘Yeah, she’s devastated. Gone back to her parents. Said she feels violated, you know?’
I could imagine. I made a mental note to send her an email, saying I hoped she was OK. I wondered, briefly, if any of the underwear I’d bought her was among the stuff that had been burned; if she ever still wore it. I’d bought her some Elle MacPherson lingerie, which she’d worn all the time, and had got her a set from Agent Provocateur for Valentine’s, which had cost a fortune.
Poor Harriet.