Free Something More (Girlfriend Fiction 11) by Mo Johnson Page B

models.
    â€˜Nice,’ I said, eyeing Mum’s shoes. Big clumpy heels…I’d be sure to hear those coming.
    I picked up the irons and grabbed a strand of hair.
    â€˜You should leave it curly,’ Mum said, coming up behind me. ‘Mum, it’s bad enough that it’s red,’ Terry said, pouting at herself in my mirror.
    â€˜Why? What about all those red-headed actresses making red hair popular these days?’
    â€˜Yeah?’ Terry retorted. ‘Then how come this month Nicole Kidman’s blonde? Not even red-haired actresses want to have red hair all the time.’
    Mum ignored her. ‘I think Isla is the spitting image of Nicole.’ She stroked my hair.
    Hello! I’m sitting right here! Did they think I couldn’t hear them?
    Terry laughed. ‘Maybe…if she wore stilts…and knew a good plastic surgeon.’
    I wondered viciously if she knew a good obstetrician. But I bit my tongue.
    â€˜Out!’ I chased them both from the room.
    I picked up the irons again. Ignoring the cloud of steam and the worrying burning smell, I continued to sizzle my locks. Red it may be, but it was going to be red and straight !
    I was packing my overnight bag when Terry came back.
    â€˜Don’t forget your swimmers,’ she said slyly.
    â€˜Shame I already have.’ I did up the zip.
    â€˜Seriously, you should get over your pool thing. You’re going to miss out on so much in Australia if you can’t get into a swimming pool.’
    â€˜Yeah, like colds and the flu. And that’s just from the water temperature. I can’t even begin to imagine what other germs are floating around in there.’
    â€˜So it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you can’t swim?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜You’re just going to turn up to a pool party and not go in the pool?’
    I wanted her off my back. ‘I didn’t just spend an hour on this hair to get it wet again in a swimming pool. Can you imagine what will happen if the chlorine gets to it?’
    She conceded the point. ‘I see what you mean. Anyway, it’s probably for the best; your bum is enormous in swimmers.’
    â€˜At least I’ll still fit into mine in six months time!’
    She flinched.
    â€˜Sorry.’
    â€˜It’s fine,’ she said.
    â€˜You need to take…’
    â€˜I know. I know. You’re right, but I’m so scared. I keep taking it out and looking at it, but I just can’t do it. Dumb, hey? It’s not like the test can hurt me or anything.’
    â€˜No, it’s not dumb. And you’re not dumb, either. The smart thing to do is to find out. Take the test tomorrow morning.’
    â€˜But you won’t be here! I need you here.’
    On impulse, I went over and gave her a hug.
    She clung to me. Her voice was muffled. ‘I keep thinking that it’s going to be okay. I don’t feel any different. I haven’t got any of the symptoms. I’ve read that a lot of them are the same as a late period, anyway: like sore boobs and funny stomach cramps. And I haven’t wanted to throw up.’
    I tried to sound hopeful. ‘It could be a false alarm; that’s why we need to find out for sure. You want to know if it’s good news, right?’
    â€˜What time do you get back tomorrow?’ she asked, pulling away from me at last.
    â€˜In the afternoon. Do you want to take the test then?’
    â€˜No, it’s better to do it in the morning.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because it says so on the box. Something about first urine being stronger.’
    â€˜Do it tomorrow, then call me. If it’s bad news I’ll come home early,’ I told her, adding, ‘but I’m now taking my enormous bum, my red hair and my gear minus a swimming costume off, okay?’ I ushered her out.
    â€˜Okay,’ she said in a small voice and made it as far as the doorway before turning