To the Moon and Back by Jill Mansell Read Free Book Online Page A

much.’
    â€˜It isn’t, it’s to say sorry and thanks. And the reason I wanted you to have them tonight is because if I took them home, I’d end up eating the truffles and drinking the wine.’
    There was something weirdly familiar about her voice. Puzzling to work out where she might have heard it before, Ellie picked up the chilled bottle. ‘We can open this now if you like.’
    â€˜Fab, I love it when people say that!’ Eagerly Roo followed her into the kitchen. ‘Ooh, pasta sauce. That smells fantastic.’
    She didn’t have a noticeable accent but the voice was still ringing bells. Now, covertly studying her face, Ellie really felt they’d met before. Probably in her early thirties, slim and toned and with huge dark eyes dominating a heart-shaped face, Roo was strikingly pretty beneath the layers of makeup…
    â€˜Ah, the cogs are turning.’ Roo took the corkscrew from her and began energetically uncorking the bottle. She tilted her head and said with amusement, ‘Managed to figure it out yet?‘
    â€˜Oh God, now I’m embarrassed. I knew I knew you from somewhere.’ Time for a wild stab. ‘OK, I work at Brace House Business Centre in Twickenham. Are you one of our clients?’
    â€˜Nope.’
    Damn.
    â€˜I knew you weren’t. Um, let me think… have you ever worked in a shop?’
    â€˜Yuck, no, thank God. Way too much like hard work.’ Roo sloshed wine into two glasses. ‘Kills your feet too. Unless it was a sitting-down type of shop. That might not be too bad.’
    â€˜OK, let me think.’ Ellie was floundering. ‘Dentist’s surgery? Hospital? Hairdresser? Or did we meet at a party? Ooh, ever been to the Frog and Bucket in Hammersmith?’
    â€˜No, and I never want to. Sounds too slimy for words. You are stone cold.’
    â€˜Sorry, then. You’ll have to give me a clue.’ This was getting seriously awkward now.
    Roo clinked her glass cheerfully against Ellie’s. ‘OK, picture me with long black hair down to here . On TV. Prancing around in a sequined tube top,’ she added, ‘whilst miming badly into a microphone.’
    â€˜Oh my God, I’ve got it!’ Slopping wine on to the worktop, Ellie made the connection. ‘You’re one of the Deevas!’ OK, even more embarrassing; they’d never met before, she’d just seen Roo on TV.
    â€˜Don’t feel bad. I prefer it when people don’t recognize me.’ Roo tweaked her spiky white-blond bangs. ‘Hence the hair. Anyway, that was way back. We grew up.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, kind of. And we moved on.’
    Crikey, the Three Deevas had been huge seven or eight years ago. Billed as the girl band with claws, they had been sparky, feisty, and full of attitude, the natural successors to the Spice Girls. Their songs had been played everywhere, their first album a triumph. One black girl with blond hair, one white girl with black hair, and one Asian girl with super-long eyelashes and no hair at all.
    Ellie searched her memory bank for more details. Dolly, Daisy, and Mya Deeva, those had been the names they’d gone by. Their first single had been the fantastically successful, ‘If I Loved You, I’d Remember Your Name’. It had to be bleeped because of the line, ‘Men are good for a shag and a new handbag.’
    But music was a notoriously tough business. Eight months later, Dolly Deeva had blotted her copybook when she’d flashed her boobs live on children’s TV. Then Mya Deeva had fallen off the stage at a benefit gig and broken both legs. Finally, Daisy Deeva had given a tipsy interview to MTV announcing that she couldn’t sing in tune, Dolly Deeva wasn’t really a vegetarian, and their fat git of a manager needed to come out of the closet.
    After that, the magic formula unraveled faster than an old sock. A year after they’d burst onto the