Free Loving Susie by Jenny Harper Page B

kicking off her shoes and sinking breathlessly into her favourite chair by the window.
    ‘Hi. Welcome home.’ Jen pushes a button on the remote so that the sound on the television sinks to a mumble, while the pictures still flicker garishly. ‘How was your day?’
    Mannie giggles. ‘Christ, we’re just like an old married couple. Good. Yours?’
    ‘Bloody awful. Flaming Sonya’s flaming skiving again.’
    ‘What’s she done now?’ Mannie has heard many stories of the wrongdoings of Jen’s temporary member of staff, a slovenly girl with no standards and less ambition.
    ‘What has she not done more like,’ Jen grumbles. ‘She was meant to tidy up a big report, insert the graphs and tables, check the spelling, make sure everyone’s bits were added in – perfectly straightforward stuff, wouldn’t you think? She only put everything in the wrong place, ran a spell check that missed some glaring errors and misnumbered all the graphs. Then she stared at me when I told her off and claimed I was bullying her!’
    ‘Sounds grim.’
    Jen gulps at her wine. ‘Did you see Callum?’
    ‘We just sank a couple of drinks at the Opal Lounge.’
    ‘Good hols?’
    ‘The snow was perfect, apparently.’
    ‘But he’s glad to be back, he missed you.’
    ‘Something like that.’ She feels oddly reluctant to discuss Cal, but fortunately Jen moves seamlessly on to a topic she loves – herself.
    ‘I splashed out today,’ she confides. ‘Popped into Harvey Nicks.’
    ‘What did you get?’
    ‘An Armani suit. It’s wicked.’
    ‘Let’s see then.’
    Jen unwinds herself from the futon and sets off eagerly to fetch her prize purchase. She almost collides, seconds later, with Myra Featherstone, the oldest of the three housemates.
    ‘I’ve got some news,’ Myra announces, her plump face portentous.
    Mannie sits up, her face flushed in the warmth of the kitchen.
    ‘Do tell. Or let me guess.’ She surveys Myra mischievously. ‘You’re looking quite smug, so you’re not about to tell us that you’re mother’s coming to stay again.’
    Myra pulls a face.
    ‘Okay, right about that then. Must be promotion?’
    Myra, who totally lacks ambition, has been content in her secretarial job in a small lawyer’s office in town for ever.
    ‘No?’ She sighs. ‘When will you learn to tell people how great you are? They don’t value you there. If they won’t promote you, get another job. They’ll give you a rise faster than you can say Myra Featherstone, bet you anything.’
    Jen, coming back in, drapes her suit carefully over the back of a chair. ‘She’s right. Blow your own trumpet, or Mannie’ll be in there blowing it for you.’
    Myra looks apprehensive.
    Mannie says, ‘Has Graham finally popped the question?’ Seeing the apprehension replaced with a blush of pride, she leaps over the low coffee table and envelopes her friend in a huge hug. ‘He has? Fantastic! This calls for champagne.’
    ‘Have we got any?’
    ‘Always. Get it out, Jen. Then we can celebrate your suit too. Maybe you can wear it at the wedding.’
    ‘Oh no, I’ll have to get something new for the wedding,’ Jen says, clearly shocked at the idea of missing such a blissful opportunity to shop. ‘Fixed a date yet?’
    Myra giggles and blushes even more. ‘Give us a chance.’
    ‘Where are you going to do the deed? What about the reception?  I hope you’re not going on a diet, My, you mustn’t change a thing about yourself – promise? What does Graham think, is he terrified or thrilled?’ Mannie’s questions rattle off her tongue, her thoughts – as ever – flitting before her like butterflies that must be chased and captured before they flutter beyond reach.
    Jen opens the bubbly with a satisfying pop and hands out three foaming glasses. ‘Here’s to you and Graham. Let’s see the ring, then. An emerald? Wow, I love it.’
    Generosity is Jen’s middle name, Mannie thinks. It’s just a few weeks since her boyfriend of three years