Remind Me Again Why I Need a Man by Claudia Carroll Read Free Book Online

late, I’m so nervous about meeting him, I already have. That’s the theatre for you. Nature’s laxative.’
    We’ve arranged to meet in the Cobalt Café, a gorgeous bright sunny restaurant with colourful Cath Kidston tablecloths, a jazz quartet playing in the background and a wine list to die for.
    â€˜I adore brunch,’ says Caroline, tucking into a plate of omelette and chips fit for a builder.
    â€˜I know,’ Rachel replies, ‘it’s kind of like breakfast with booze.’
    We’ve all expressed our disappointment at not seeingJamie, tinged with friendly understanding that his career must come first, or, as Rachel dryly puts it, ‘I will rip out his still-beating heart and wave it in front of his disloyal face the next time I see him, that’s if he’s lucky and I happen to be in a good mood. He chucked us over for a
theatre
audition? He told me he thought the theatre was a hideous bitch-goddess.’
    â€˜I know,’ I say, ‘I got that speech too.’
    â€˜And if he thinks I’m going to fork out to see some bloody show
if
he gets the part, he’s got another think coming. Not after that Beckett play he made us sit through.’
    This was a production of
Waiting for Godot
Jamie was in about a year ago, which the director, for reasons best known to himself, decided to set inside a German concentration camp.
    â€˜It’s meant to challenge the audience,’ Jamie had said at the time.
    â€˜And in a way, it has,’ Rachel had muttered darkly. ‘Certainly challenged me to go up to the box-office manager, thump him and demand my money back.’
    â€˜Did you have to remind me?’ I groan. ‘I’m just out of therapy to recover from seeing that particular show.’
    We’ve also discussed Caroline’s pregnancy; she’s just at the twelve-week stage now, and looks like a glowing ad for it. I don’t think she’s ever experienced nausea once in her entire life. In fact, I’ve had worse symptoms and certainly a far more swollen tummy witha bad dose of PMS. She strenuously denies this, naturally, claiming that she’s eaten so much, the control-top gusset on her tights is in shards.
    And then the chat turns to me. As I knew it would.
    I’m prepared though. For Rachel, anyway. Caroline would support any of her friends even if we decided to sell up and emigrate to Fallujah. But Rachel is another kettle of fish entirely. Don’t get me wrong, I love her dearly, but she’s so smart and so sharp and is permanently three steps ahead of me and she uses witty banter to put her point across and she’s always at her funniest in front of an audience and she really doesn’t want me tracking down all my exes and I know it’s because she’s looking out for me – but guess what?
    I’m a big girl now. And I want a husband. So I’ve come fully prepared for Rachel.
    â€˜Well then, honey?’ Caroline asks, gently patting my hand. ‘How did you get on at the find-a-husband night class then? And if you could postpone your wedding till after the baby’s born and I fit back into a size ten, I’d be very grateful.’
    â€˜Or have you faced up to the un-face-up-toable and accepted that
we
are your soulmates?’ says Rachel and I know by the glint in her eyes that she’s only warming up for a good old ding-dong.
    â€˜If you’re my soulmate, then God help me. You call-screen during
Desperate Housewives
.’
    Told you I was ready for her.
    â€˜Me and half the Northern hemisphere. For God’s sake, everyone call-screens during
Desperate Housewives
. I just meant that if you were going to meet someone, you would have met them by now.’
    â€˜Rach, you can be very cruel when you’re sober,’ I reply, taking a deep breath and reminding myself that she’s only saying these things because she cares about me. But … well … does she