Remember Me? by Sophie Kinsella Read Free Book Online Page A

the wall. Surely I’m supposed to have grown out of being irritated by my mother? Automatically I start picking at my thumbnail. Then I stop. Twenty-eight-year-old Lexi doesn’t shred her nails.
    “So, what does he do?” I return to the subject of my so-called husband. I still can’t really believe he’s real.
    “Who, Eric?”
    “Yes! Of course Eric!”
    “He sells property,” Mum says, as though I ought to know. “He’s rather good at it, actually.”
    I’ve married a real-estate agent called Eric.
    How?
    Why?
    “Do we live in my flat?”
    “Your flat?” Mum looks bemused. “Darling, you sold your flat a long time ago. You have a marital home now!”
    “I
sold
it?” I feel a pang. “But I’ve only just bought it!”
    I love my flat. It’s in Balham and is tiny but cozy, with blue-painted window frames which I did myself, and a lovely squashy velvet sofa, and piles of colorful cushions everywhere, and fairy lights around the mirror. Fi and Carolyn helped me move in two months ago, and we spray-painted the bathroom silver, and then spray-painted our jeans silver too.
    And now it’s all gone. I live in a marital home. With my marital husband.
    For the millionth time I look at the wedding ring and diamond solitaire. Then I automatically shoot a glance at Mum’s hand. She still wears Dad’s ring, despite the way he’s behaved toward her over the years—
    Dad. Dad’s funeral.
    It’s like a hand has gripped hold of my stomach, tight.
    “Mum…” I venture cautiously. “I’m really sorry I missed Dad’s funeral. Did it…you know, go all right?”
    “You didn’t miss it, darling.” She peers at me as though I’m crazy. “You were there.”
    “Oh.” I stare at her, confused. “Right. Of course. I just don’t remember anything about it.”
    Heaving a massive sigh, I lean back on my pillows. I don’t remember my own wedding and I don’t remember my dad’s funeral. Two of the most important events in my life, and I feel like I’ve missed out on them. “So, how was it?”
    “Oh, it all went off as well as these things ever do…” Mum’s looking twitchy, the way she always is when the subject of Dad comes up.
    “Were many people there?”
    A pained expression comes to her face.
    “Let’s not
dwell
on it, darling. It was years ago.” She gets up as though to remove herself from my questioning. “Now, have you had any lunch? I didn’t have time to eat
anything,
just a snatch of a boiled egg and toast. I’ll go and find something for us both. And make sure you eat properly, Lexi,” she adds. “None of this no-carbs obsession. A potato won’t kill you.”
    No carbs? Is that how I got this shape? I glance down at my unfamiliar toned legs. It has to be said, they look as if they don’t know what a potato
is
.
    “I’ve changed in appearance quite a lot, haven’t I?” I can’t help saying, a bit self-consciously. “My hair…my teeth…”
    “I suppose you are different.” She peers at me vaguely. “It’s been so gradual, I haven’t really noticed.”
    For God’s sake. How can you not even notice when your daughter turns from a manky, overweight Snaggletooth into a thin, tanned, groomed person?
    “I won’t be long.” Mum picks up her embroidered shoulder bag. “And Amy should be here any moment.”
    “Amy’s here?” My spirits lift as I visualize my little sister in her pink fleecy vest and flower-embroidered jeans and those cute sneakers that light up when she dances.
    “She was just buying some chocolate downstairs.” Mum opens the door. “She loves those mint Kit Kats.”
    The door closes behind her and I stare at it. They’ve invented
mint
Kit Kats?
    2007 really is a different world.

    Amy’s not my half sister or stepsister, like most people assume. She’s my full, one-hundred-percent sister. But people get confused because: 1. There’s thirteen years between us. 2. My mum and dad had split up before she was born.
    Maybe “split up” is too strong.