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CLAUDIA CARROLL
Me and You
To my old* pal, Karen Nolan.
With love and thanks, always.
*though when I say old, she’s actually really young.
*(Ok, so maybe she told me to write that last bit.)
Hands trembling, heart palpitating, she recognised the handwriting instantly.
I’m fine. I’m sorry.
Please take care of him for me.
And maybe one day I’ll get to explain.
Table of Contents
Christmas Eve,The Sanctuary Spa, 9.30 a.m.
My birthday. My actual birthday and I’ve just been stood up.
No hang on, keep reading, it gets worse. By my best friend. In the same week I was turfed out of a flat I really loved, (and v. annoyingly, after the landlord had finally got round to getting Sky Atlantic in). In the same month I lost a job I loved even more. In the same year I got dumped by the man I loved most of all. Bastard not even having the good grace to leave me for someone younger or thinner.
Will spare you the details. Whole other story for a whole other day.
9.44 a.m.
Maybe Kitty’s just a tiny bit delayed? Then suddenly I think, maybe it’s me? Maybe I got the day wrong?
Remind myself; it’s my birthday. Got the day right. No question.
Have to accept it; definitely in stood-up territory here.
9.52 a.m.
V., v. weird. Can’t quite get my head around the fact she’d do this to me. Today of all days. Getting a bit wobbly lipped and almost on the verge of tears now.
9.53 a.m.
Wouldn’t mind, but this whole spa day was Kitty’s idea, not mine. She booked it, made appointments, even made brekkie and lunch reservations at the Spa Café, the whole works. Not a chance in hell of my being able to afford it right now, for starters. But Kitty insisted, said it
