Free Blondetourage by Allison Rushby Page A

working.'
    'Sounds good,' I say, standing up once more.
    'I think the main bathroom's free,' George adds.
'You should probably make the most of it before
everyone else gets up.'
    'Thanks for the tip,' I head for the door. I make
a break for JJ's and my room where I grab my towel
and cross back to the bathroom (still free, thankfully).
I close the door behind me, drop my towel
over the edge of the gigantic bath and stare out the
window, mesmerised again by the view.
    Lessons. A walk along the Seine. Filming at the
LV store (yes, even little old sheltered me knew
what George meant by the LV store). A couple of
hours free in Paris.
    Whatever I might think of Rich Girls the show,
being educated blondetourage-style sure beats
another rainy Vienna Saturday holed up in the
library with Frau Braun.
    $$$
    The morning's lessons – Biology and German – are
easy. I'm starting to realise that I'm going to have to
take things lesson by lesson. In some subjects, like
German, Biology and Maths, I am miles ahead. In
others, like Geography, the only word that can be
applied is struggling. I don't think Frau Braun even
realised Geography could encompass more than
picking off the capital cities on a map. I guess being
tutored one-on-one by the most boring woman in
the world in one of the most boring cities on earth
had both benefits and disadvantages.
    After impressing everyone with my German
verbs and slipping George a sly note that says Ich
bin ganz allein dabei die Esel zu retten ('I'm single-handedly saving the donkeys' – and, believe me,
she had to get out her German–English dictionary
for that one), we pick up our packed lunch from JJ
and head out for our walk along the Seine.
    'Just remember he's not really yours,' the voice
comes from behind me as we hit the pavement
outside the apartment.
    Beside me, George groans, then pauses and
grins, changing tack. 'Rhys isn't yours either,
Ashleigh. He's a free man.'
    There are a few quick steps, then, 'You knew I
was talking about Anouschka's cat,' Ashleigh hisses
as she steps up to meet us, her eyes darting back to
see if Rhys has heard any of this.
    'Oh, you were talking about Fluffy. Not Rhys. Sorry, Ashleigh, I thought you were talking about RHYS !' George states loudly.
    'What?' Rhys says from behind.
    'Nothing!' George chimes back. 'It's just that
...
    'Shut UP!' Ashleigh butts in and quickens up
again to walk a pace or two in front of us, her arms
crossed.
    George laughs at her. 'You want to take him,
Ashleigh? I'm sure Elli wouldn't mind one bit.'
She takes Fluffy's pink and black zebra-striped lead
from me and offers it to Ashleigh. Fluffy hisses at
her and then at George before she passes the lead
back again. 'Yeah, I didn't think so.'
    Ashleigh huffs. 'All I'm saying is he's a very
expensive cat, that's all. Try not to lose him.'
    'I'm not going to lose him!' I tell her. 'Why
would I want to do that? I like Fluffy. Unlike some
people.'
    Ashleigh shrugs. 'Well, everyone knows you
don't want to be here, don't they? Maybe you've
got some little scheme to get your mother fired.
Like losing Fluffy.'
    'What?' I frown and look over at George and
then, beyond her, at Rhys, who's caught up now
and is listening in.
    'You're a freak, Ashleigh,' George shakes her
head. 'A freak. Go on, run ahead and go and think
about ... I don't know ... which surgeon you fancy
for your first facelift.'
    Ashleigh rolls her eyes at this. 'Scoff all you
want. At least I'll be able to afford one,' she says
before she flounces off.
    George, Rhys and I look at each other and then
laugh.
    'That wasn't very nice,' I say to George. 'But it
was funny! I can't believe she actually aspires to a
life of plastic surgery.'
    'Well, a girl's got to have something to do
between husbands, doesn't she?' George replies.
    I shake my head as I turn back and watch
Ashleigh stalking off. I just can't figure out that
chick. She can't really be that nasty, can she?
    Toby takes a few steps forward to join us. 'Hey,
what's so