Free Please Let It Stop by Jacqueline Gold

barred’. Vanessa could only look on with horror.
    All was not lost. A few minutes later a smartly dressed gentleman appeared and asked what was wrong – on explaining our predicament, he clicked his fingers at the bouncer who begrudgingly let us back into the VIP area. The gentleman then invited us into another room, advising us that a prince from India wanted to have a drink with Vanessa. Out of curiosity we went into this private room,where a man was sitting on his own surrounded by an entourage of about twenty men. It was a unique experience but we soon got bored and Vanessa was desperately trying to think of a polite way to make our escape. She leant over to the prince and told him it was time to go as her sister had had a little too much to drink – he offered his driver to take us home but when she declined he stood up and said he would escort us to the front door. As she passed by me she told me to act drunk as this was our way of leaving. With that, the prince, Vanessa, his bodyguard and I made our way to the front of the club. In my haste I grabbed the banister which was an unfixed rope, lost my footing and fell down the stairs. Vanessa came to help me and whispered in my ear, ‘I said act drunk, but not
that
drunk!’
    I suppose it may be because of my professional position, but many people seem to think I am the sensible sister when, in truth, that title should belong to Vanessa (but I’m not supposed to say that). While I may be in control professionally, it is she who often takes charge socially. In 1998, when I was newly single, Vanessa and I were on our way to a bar in Croydon with a friend called Leigh. I was listening intently to the stories Leigh was telling us in the car, all about her one-night stands. At the time the concept of a one-night stand was unknown to me; I had never had one. Vanessa was watching me and told me later that she could already see this was a dangerous subject, given my new single status. When we got to the bar I was keen to continuethe discussion but Vanessa, concerned that the discussion may lead to some sort of action, decided to step in. My dreams of a wild night of passion with a handsome stranger were quickly dashed as Vanessa said in her most sensible and slightly alarmed voice, ‘Jacqueline …
not
in Croydon!’
    Our love of girlie nights of getting ready with loud music and a glass or two of rosé hasn’t changed one bit over the years. These days we have a great group of girlfriends, a much wider love of music, loads more confidence and no longer seem to have problems getting onto the VIP list! As with all relationships, there are days where we are grumpy with each other, but they are few. We see each other almost every day – our offices are next door to each other and there will always be time for a quick catch up at least once during the day as we both attend to our various meetings and commitments. We have dinner at least once a week with Dad and often again on our own. Then there are the shopping trips – we are both girlie girls and love fashion. We also adore time with our girlfriends, pink champagne and plenty of good-looking, male attention. While I am known by family and friends as a ‘fixer’ and will not give up until a problem is solved, Vanessa is wise beyond her years and the advice she gives is sound and sensible. And she is also a great storyteller, just like our father.
    She is unbelievably protective of me and will drop anything if I need her. Although I now live about fifteen minutes from her, she used to live exactly one mile away,door to door, close enough for me to call on her when I needed her help. She has often been called late at night to deal with a gigantic spider that had broken through the window, run up my stairs and placed itself in an aggressive manner near my bed. She would arrive to find me standing frozen with fear on the bed, waiting for her to wrestle with the spider and save me.

CHAPTER FIVE
Dancing with drugs
    Not too