BooksBarbecue
Back Careering
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. Chapter Forty-Two
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Chapter Forty-Seven
  51. Chapter Forty-Eight
  52. Chapter Forty-Nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-One
  55. Chapter Fifty-Two
  56. Chapter Fifty-Three
  57. Chapter Fifty-Four
  58. Chapter Fifty-Five
  59. Chapter Fifty-Six
  60. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  61. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  62. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  63. Epilogue
  64. Acknowledgements

But I can say something now. ‘I really am sorry. You must miss him very much.’

Harri pauses and presses her fingertips to her eyelids for three seconds, before speaking. ‘Every single day. He was the best, Imogen. He was sweet and kind and funny and decent and, just…my favourite. Way back when, Panache used to send me out to fashion week. Front row shows. Endless free stuff. Hot and cold running taxis, I’m not sure my feet ever touched a Parisian pavement. Anyway, I’d be alone in these hotels, hotels we’d run big pieces on, claiming that they were the sexiest, most desirable, most luxurious vacation destinations in the world. Every night, I’d be miserable and lonely, counting down the seconds until I was back with Andy in our tiny flat in Archway. I remember it so vividly, being almost sexually desperate to feel my key in the lock, and then…the yearning. The dreaming. Of my dear old husband, in his joggers! It was like being a teenager, all over again. Sorry, I’m going on.’

‘Not at all, I’m very, very touched that you want to tell me.’

‘I want to tell everyone. All the time. But when I start, I can’t stop, and I can’t bear…’ she pauses, and looks away. ‘Distract me. Tell me about you—I know I’ve been using up all of your evenings and sending you off to orgies, but are you seeing anyone at the moment? Any gossip?’

‘It’s silly, really.’ That kiss, on the step—what did it mean? And why does that feel more intimate than, say, telling the nation about who has been sucking my nipples? ‘I don’t know, I met someone at the weekend, I’m not sure if I’m interested. Probably nothing. Oh, but there is this guy I see sometimes, Sam Strong, I don’t know why I always use his surname…’

The colour has drained from Harri’s face. ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me. I know him. Know him, know him. From way back.’

Oh. Oh no. ‘Is that a, er, problem?’ If bloody Sam Strong ruins one more job for me…

‘No, no, we’re not in touch any more, ancient history. But you’re still seeing him?’

Harri’s voice is cautious, and I detect a note of alarm. I get the impression that ‘yes’ is the wrong answer. And I know ‘ancient history’ can mean anything from ‘I hadn’t thought about him in years’ to ‘I still sleep in his old T-shirt’.