Free Valentine Present and Other Diabolical Liberties by Lynda Renham Page A

though. Mad Jack Junior is a total nutcase. He’ll kneecap anything that moves. I daren’t set foot in Battersea until I have their money.’
          ‘I don’t think you dare set foot in Battersea, period. Everyone you owe money to is after you. I would think Jack Diamond, Baby Diamond and Mad Diamond are the least of your worries. I could happily kneecap you myself.’
    The dripping tap drums incessantly into a dirty saucepan in the sink.
          ‘For God’s sake Harry, you’re supposed to be supporting me.’
          ‘Julian, you deceived me. I don’t see why I should help you pay back all your debts. They’re your problem …’
          ‘But Harry, they may kill me. I promise to stay in touch and I love you Harry. I appreciate what you’re doing for me. I really do. I’m really sorry for what I did. I only did it for us. My only crime was loving you,’ he says with a small sob which I’m not sure is real.
          ‘You still love me don’t you?’ he asks in a self-pitying voice.
    I mumble something incoherent which he seems to ignore.
          ‘Well at least the restaurant is still up and running. How many more months can you pay the staff?’
          ‘I’m not sure.’
          ‘If I can get this guy to invest then we can give Diamond his money and get him off our backs for good. I’ll have to get rid of this phone, I don’t trust them. They may be able to trace me if I keep using it.’
          ‘They’re East End gangsters Julian, not the sodding FBI,’ I say irritably.
          ‘Still, best to be safe. I’ll contact you when I have a new number. I love you Harry, I really am grateful for what you are doing.’
    I click off the phone. Angola, when did I ever say I wanted to go to Angola? They have bloody landmines there for Christ’s sake. I’m charitable, but not that bloody charitable. Has he ever listened to me? More to the point, has he ever really loved me? What a predicament. I can’t very well tell Hamilton that I’ve now changed my mind can I? I certainly can’t wait for Julian either. Bloody men.

Chapter Eight
     
     
          ‘This one really becomes you. This is the crème de la crème,’ gushes Marcus.
    So far I’ve looked like a prize prat in all of them if you ask me, but who am I to argue with the man who has supposedly dressed Victoria Beckham and the Duchess of York? Mind you, that’s not much of a recommendation is it? I mean, have you seen the Duchess of York lately? I go to nervously bite my nails and remember they’re not my own any more. I don’t mean I’ve stolen someone else’s, just in case you thought I was wearing the Duchess of York’s nails. My own bitten nails have been magically replaced by beautiful false ones, which have rendered me totally helpless. I can’t hold a knife and fork anymore without looking like someone who’s had a stroke. I just about manage to get the fork to my mouth before I lose my grip and drop food down my new designer clothes. I’ll be ripping these nails off just so I can eat something. I could be the inventor of the False Nail Diet , and will make a fortune writing The Amazing False Nail Diet Book . Seriously though, how do women wear these things? If I have an itch I almost scar myself by scratching. As it is I’ve got injuries on my thighs from pulling up my knickers. I must be the most glamorous laundrette manager ever. Celia Blakely nearly had a fit when she saw me. I told her it was a birthday present from Julian.
          ‘Oh, a makeover,’ she had said, ‘it must have cost him a fortune.’
    He owes a fortune more like. I’ve had hair waxed from places I didn’t know I had hair. My lovely shaggy blonde look is now a neat shoulder length bob, and is so silky that I slip and slide on the pillowcase. I feel like a Barbie doll, and Fiona doesn’t help by telling me I look like one. I’m wearing shoes that I’ve only ever seen transvestites wear and I’m