Lizzy Harrison Loses Control by Pippa Wright Read Free Book Online

hair don’t, he has to go for the most boring career he can find. I mean, doesn’t he stop to think how badly this reflects on me, him constantly hanging out with such losers?’ Not that that stopped Lulu from shagging half Dan’s colleagues over the years. (‘Better to shag them than have to listen to them, Harrison – you can’t imagine how dull they are.’)
    ‘Well, it’s great to see you, Dan,’ I say. ‘Especially if Lulu didn’t send you here to spy on me.’
    ‘Spy on you? Why would she do that? She didn’t even know I was coming here tonight. Are you up to something interesting, then? Should I be spying?’ He tilts his head towards mine, and though his face is perfectly serious, his dark blue eyes are definitely laughing at me.
    ‘Oh, no, it’s nothing interesting at all,’ I stammer, sounding highly suspect. ‘Lulu just thought it was important for me to come to support, er, a friend of mine who’s doing a set here tonight. Moral support, that sort of thing.’
    Dan raises his eyebrows. ‘Moral support while dressed like a Fifties secretary, Miss Harrison? Who is he? Rock Hudson?’
    ‘Ha! No! Er, that’s to say, I don’t really know him, he’s more of a work acquaintance,’ I explain. I don’t want to come out and say that I’m here to see a man I’ve never met and know precious little about. So I go on the defensive. ‘I mean, it’s for my job , you know. So I’m dressed for work .’
    ‘Well, whoever he is, you can’t stand here on your own looking like you’re about to take a letter. Why don’t you come and sit with us? There’s plenty of room and I promise not to let the boys be too much trouble.’ Dan smiles and places his hand in the small of my back, propelling me gently towards his friends, who are rowdily refilling their glasses from the pitchers on the long table and grabbing greasy handfuls of chips from large white platters of lager-absorbing snacks that the management have provided more as insurance against drunkenness than out of any kind of culinary ambition. The men briefly look up as we approach.
    ‘Lizzy Harrison, I’d like you to meet Bangers, Bodders, Johnno, Dusty, Paddy.’ Dan gestures around the table to each man in turn, but I’m finding it hard to keep track. Quite why these grown men insist on using pets’ names is beyond me, but they seem friendly enough as they shuffle up good-naturedly to make room for me to sit down next to Dan.
    ‘Nice to meet you, Milo,’ says one of them – Bangers? Paddy?
    ‘Milo? Do you mean me?’ I ask, baffled.
    ‘Milo – as in Miles Harrison? Rugby commentator? You’ve really never heard of him?’ asks the one with the Irish accent. I’m thinking he’s got to be Paddy, these being fairly literal boys. He shakes his head and sighs, as if under great mental strain. ‘Thing is, you’ve got to have a nickname to fit in with the boys tonight, Lizzy, and Harrison’s just not giving me a lot to work with.’
    ‘Ah, right, Milo it is,’ I say. ‘Thanks. Great. So what’s your special rugger-bugger name then, Dan?’
    ‘Er, you can just call me Dan, like normal,’ he mumbles, grabbing his pint and fixing his eyes on the empty stage. ‘I think the lights are going down – must be about to start.’
    ‘Dan, you total liar, it’s perfectly light in here. No excuses, dish it.’
    Dan is valiantly ignoring my stare when Bangers shouts from the end of the table, ‘Oi, Windy, pass the chips, will you?’
    ‘Windy! Ha, no wonder you didn’t want to tell me. Suffering from some digestive issues, are we?’ I tease, and Dan’s mouth twists into a smirk. He turns his chair towards me and is about to reply when Johnno interrupts, painfully earnest from across the table.
    ‘Er, no, actually, Lizzy – I mean, ah, Milo, was it? We actually call him Windy because of the nineteen-seventies children’s television programme Camberwick Green , which featured a character, in fact a miller , called Windy Miller. Windy