Husbands by Adele Parks Read Free Book Online Page B

to hundreds of sit-ups. I imagine someone pulling out my guts, putting them in a boxing ring to do a few rounds with Tyson and then shoving them back down my throat. I’ve never liked Elvis.
    I take pizza and napkins up to the kids although both the mums warn me that I’ll be scraping tomato sauce off the wool carpet for years to come. I ignore them, partly to show how relaxed and easy-going a host I am, and partly because I don’t care about the carpet.
    When I come back downstairs my friends are talking about reruns of
Heartbeat
but Laura keeps drifting off into a daydream and the smile on her face makes it clear thatshe is thinking about her busker. I refuse to indulge her and so we stumble through conversations about Delia Smith recipes, TV adaptations of great novels and how Amelie should wear her hair (she’s planning a revamp). At midnight, after we have drunk more than a bottle of wine each, I decide to hit the hay. Both Laura and Amelie insist that they want to stay up and watch some terrible eighties movie. As I close the sitting-room door behind me I hear Amelie ask, ‘So, what was he singing?’
    I feel strangely excluded and unreasonably narky, even though I know it is self-inflicted exile and the only person I’m annoyed with is me.

8. If I Can Dream
    Tuesday 18th May 2004
    Laura
    Amelie isn’t really my friend; she’s Bella’s, although I’ve met her on a number of occasions at ‘Bella Parties’ (and more recently ‘Bella Events’ as nowadays she is more likely to host something spectacular that outgrows the party category). Obviously, I know all about Amelie’s tragic loss. I want, if at all possible, to make her life a little more bearable – ideally a little more pleasurable. It’s as good a basis for a friendship as any, probably better than a shared postcode.
    In my experience women are generally territorial when it comes to friendships. They don’t like mixing. I think the issue is that loose lips sink ships and invariably Friend A has had a good old gossip with Friend B about Friend C’s boring husband/imminent affair/terrible way with money, therefore can’t possibly let Friend B meet Friend C in case a clanger is dropped. To Bella’s credit, she is always trying to get her friends to mix. Take last Friday for example, it was so sweet of her to invite Amelie and me for supper. The kids all got along brilliantly, and that gave Amelie and me the opportunity to get past ‘nice canapés’ and ‘yummy, champagne, how lovely’ which isas deep as our conversations get at ‘Bella Events’. That said, I’m not sure Bella will be overjoyed with the subject matter that Amelie calls me about today.
    ‘I’ve found him.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘It wasn’t so difficult. I went online and got a list of pubs in Richmond. I called them all and asked if they had an Elvis impersonator performing. I got lucky on the ninth pub. Apparently Stevie Jones has just been employed to be Elvis, on the third Friday of every month at The Bell and Long Wheat. Peculiar name, don’t you think?’
    I assume she is referring to the pub. ‘Oh, Amelie, so many calls. What a purler!’
    ‘Meaning, you’re pleased?’
    ‘How can I thank you?’
    ‘I wanted to do it,’ she says firmly.
    I didn’t press the point. I figure I must be a pretty desperate case if a friend of a friend thinks I need help with my love life.
    ‘I could babysit for you, if you like,’ offers Amelie.
    ‘So you think I should go and see him?’
    ‘Well, yes, obviously. The landlord of the pub said he’s expecting your Stevie to pull a big crowd. Didn’t you want to see him again?’
    Yes. No. Maybe. Suddenly, I am terrified and delighted all at once. Stevie Jones has fallen into my lap.
    ‘I couldn’t go on my own.’
    ‘Take Bella,’ suggests Amelie. We both fall silent. ‘No, maybe not.’
    Bella has only mentioned Stevie twice since last Friday and both times as the ‘loony, stalking busker’.
    ‘OK, we’ll get her to