Free Remember My Name by Abbey Clancy

her desk only a few times less. And all I got from it was a crick in my neck from trying to stare through his glass door from behind one of the potted palm trees. I don’t know why I bothered—the glass was frosted, and all I could see were vague shapes moving around. It could have been my uncle Brian in there for all I could tell.
    I knew I was behaving badly—stupidly—but I couldn’t quite stop myself.
    I’d been here before. All women have, I think. At that stage where you feel brilliant and crap all at the same time. That stage where everything could happen—or nothing at all.
    That stage where I’d normally have Ruby to talk to, or Becky—and now, here in London, I had nobody.
    Unless you counted Patty—and as she was currently taking off her platform boots so I could go and polish them for her, I really, really didn’t.

Chapter 9
    ‘Y ou have kebab,’ said Yusuf, thrusting a wrapped paper package at my sister’s hands. He pointed to her belly, which was now noticeably carrying a passenger, and added, ‘Make big strong baby for you.’
    Becky took hold of the parcel and grinned at him, saying ‘thank you’ over her shoulder as we walked up the stairs to my flat.
    ‘I think I’m in love,’ she said, glancing back down the steps as Yusuf waved at her. ‘I might leave Sean and move in with you, just to be near him. He can be my new baby daddy.’
    ‘Yusuf is sixty-four, he’s married with seven kids, and that belly of his won’t go away in a few months’ time like yours will,’ I replied, shoving the key into the door and turning it.
    ‘I know. But who can resist a man who gives you free food? And he seems so nice …’
    ‘He is,’ I said, as I led us back inside. ‘He’s a love. If he didn’t come free with the flat, I’d pay extra for him. I always know he’s looking out for me, and it never matters if I lose my keys.’
    ‘Plus, you know, free kebabs?’ she said, walking to thekitchen counter and unwrapping her food. I grabbed two plates down from the cupboard, and she sighed with contentment as she plonked her mega-meal down onto hers.
    I did what I usually do when Yusuf gives me a freebie—pulled the meat off the pitta, and threw the bread in the bin, leaving just the lamb and the salad.
    Becky pulled a face at me as we collapsed down onto the sofa.
    ‘What’s up with that?’ she said, through a mouthful of meat and lettuce. ‘Is the bread minging, or something?’
    ‘No … I’m just, you know, off carbs,’ I said, looking regretfully at her pitta, which was dripping with juices and sauce. I’d not eaten bread for six weeks now, and it was starting to bite. I sometimes went into a trance-like state, and when I came to, found myself standing outside the French bakery on the corner, my nose pressed up to the window, making a pig face and sniffing deliriously. One day I’d get stuck and they’d have to peel me off.
    ‘Off carbs?’ she said, looking confused. ‘Are you going to Marbs?’
    ‘I wish!’ I answered, making the most of the kebab I did have left. ‘I’m just trying to stay in shape—I have dance classes, and they’re pretty hard. The last thing I need is to be dragging a lard arse around with me.’
    ‘You don’t have a lard arse,’ replied Becky. ‘And you never have had, much as Luke would like you to think different. You don’t need to lose any more weight—you look fantastic. Apart from, well …’
    ‘What?’ I snapped, my eyes wide open. I was on a bit ofa roller coaster with my self-esteem these days, and seemed to have lost all balance and control. If someone—okay, Jack—said something nice to me about the way I looked, my confidence would sky rocket. If someone—okay, Jack—said something less nice, I’d plummet into misery.
    It was kind of pathetic, but I didn’t really know what to do to change it. I mean, Jack rarely ever said anything critical—on the whole, he was lovely. He was attentive and flattering and charming and