Читать книгу The Time of My Life - Cecelia Ahern, Cecelia Ahern - Страница 20

CHAPTER NINE

‘He did the Inca Trail last week, did you see that?’ my friend Jamie said to the table.

We were in The Wine Bistro in the city, our usual haunt for catching up, and being served by the usual gay waiter with the fake French accent. There were seven of the usual suspects gathered around for Lisa’s birthday. There used to be eight before Blake had started all his travelling but he might as well have been sitting at the head of the table that night, exactly opposite from me, from the way they were all going on. They’d been talking about Blake for the past twenty minutes, ever since main course had arrived, and I sensed it could go on for another twenty so I had stuffed my mouth with as much salad as I could. Silchesters didn’t talk while eating so apart from the occasional nod of interest and raised eyebrow I didn’t need to take part. They talked about last night’s episode where he’d travelled around India; I’d watched it and hoped Jenna had gotten Delhi belly. They talked about things he’d said, things he’d seen, things he’d worn and then they lovingly ripped him apart about his smarmy final comments and that cheesy look down the camera lens followed by the wink – that was personally my favourite part, but I didn’t tell them that.

‘What did you think of it, Lucy?’ Adam asked, killing their discussion and directing it all at me.

I took a while to chew then swallowed some lettuce leaves. ‘I didn’t see it.’ I shoved more into my mouth.

‘Oooh,’ Chantelle joked, ‘she’s so cold.’

I shrugged.

‘Have you ever seen it?’ Lisa asked.

I shook my head. ‘I’m not sure if I have the station. I haven’t checked.’

‘Everyone has the station,’ Adam said.

‘Oh. Whoops.’ I smiled.

‘You were supposed to go on that trip together, weren’t you?’ Adam asked again, leaning on the table, pushing all his energy towards me.

Adam pretended to joke but even if it was almost three years ago, his best friend being dumped still seriously aggrieved him. If I hadn’t been the target of his aggression my admiration for his loyalty would have been far greater. I’m not quite sure how Blake had managed to create such steadfast devotion in Adam but whatever he said, or whatever crocodile tears he’d spilled with him, it had worked and I was public enemy number one. I knew it and Adam secretly wanted me to know it, but it seemed that nobody else knew it. Again paranoia was taking over but I followed it like it was my guide.

I nodded at Adam. ‘Yeah, we planned to go for his thirtieth.’

‘And you made him go on his own, you cruel bitch,’ Lisa said, and they laughed.

‘With a film crew,’ Melanie added, kind of in my defence.

‘And a spray tanner, by the looks of it,’ Jamie added and they laughed.

And Jenna. The bitch. From Australia.

I just shrugged again. ‘That’s what you get when you give me fried eggs instead of poached. A girl can’t be dealing with shoddy breakfast in bed.’

They laughed, but Adam didn’t. He glared at me in defence of his friend. I shovelled more salad into my mouth and looked at Melanie’s plate to see what I could steal. As usual it was full of food. I speared a baby tomato, that’d give me at least twenty seconds of chewing. The tomato burst in my mouth and the seeds fired down my throat and made me choke. Not a cool reaction. Melanie handed me a glass of water.

‘Well, he didn’t do too badly, we did end up in Vegas for his thirtieth,’ Adam said and gave me a long knowing look that just killed me. The lads looked at each other with cheeky expressions, instantly sharing a weekend of craziness that would never be revealed. My heart twisted as I pictured Blake on a bar with a stripper licking Pernod off his abs and popping olives from his belly button. It wasn’t a party trick of his, just a mind trick of my own.

My phone beeped. Don Lockwood’s name flashed up onto my screen. Since our phone conversation over a week ago I’d tried to think of some kind of comeback for the Aslan song but failed. As soon as I opened the text a photo popped up. It was a porcelain figure of a haggard old woman with an eye patch and beneath it his text read:

–Saw this and thought of you.

I zoned out of the conversation and immediately texted back.