Page 13 of Knotting Hill
“It was pretty good,” I say modestly. “You should have stayed.”
“Ugh, I wish. Work. I was the last one to go. Storm and the others left about twelve-ish.”
I nod knowingly. “Yeah, I saw her this morning, getting coffee.”
She snickers. “I think we all needed that.”
“Yep, a few beers and shots will do that to you.”
She nods. “I always make the mistake of diving straight into the Chardonnay. Four glasses, and I’m anybody’s!” She lets out a flirty giggle.
I smile in return. “Suppose it’s easy for you girls to share a bottle.”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no. Storm and others drink Vodka tonics. But I don’t like the taste.”
“Ah, I see.”
Drink of choice: check!
“So you’re after anything else?” she asks, walking back towards the till.
“Uhm, no, just this,” I say, following her and placing the t-shirt on the counter.
She’s drawn the conversation to a close, so to pursue it again now would be suspect, at best. I guess I’ll have to come back tomorrow for some pants to go with my new t-shirt. And some shoes the day after that.
She nods and unhooks it from the hanger, chucking that in a big bag and then searching for the price tag. She scans it and then folds it up neatly, placing it in a bag.
“You out again later?” I ask, not ready to fully end this.
She shakes her head. “Nah, the girls are lightweights. I’m lucky if I can get them out twice a month. Storm especially. But we go around to her flat sometimes to watch movies and stuff. Love a good Rom-Com.”
“Sounds good.”
Movie genre of choice: check!
One thing that is becoming clear is that Storm seems to be the hub of this group of friends.
“It is. That’ll be thirty pounds, please, when you’re ready.”
I baulk but flash my card at the reader anyway. I can’t believe I’ve just spent thirty quid on a t-shirt with a pair of cherries printed on the front that I will probably never wear outside of the house. What the fuck am I doing?
“Thanks. Maybe see you around sometime?” she asks hopefully.
“Yeah, we should meet up, all of us. I’ll send you a DM, see what we can organise.”
She appears slightly disappointed that I mentioned everyone but takes it on the chin. “Okay, great.”
“See ya.” I pick up my overpriced cherry tee and walk out of the shop, armed with a little bit more knowledge about Storm, even if it is just her favourite drink and genre of movie.
I’ve worked with less.
Ten
Storm
Sneaking backinto the practice after seeing my mum, I figured I’d better leave the bookshop visit until after work. I finish at 4.30pm, so I should have half an hour to get to it before it closes, assuming it works regular business hours. Ignoring the disapproving glare of the receptionist, Sadie—who, by the way—wasn’t even here when I arrived earlier, so she can get knotted, I sit at my desk and drop my bag to the floor.
Switching on the computer, I grab the pile of folders and get to work on the insurance invoicing, enjoying the numbers and the work.
