The Gin O'Clock Club - Rosie Blake Page 0,112

on the not being a bitch to you, I promise.’ My voice was loud and a couple at a nearby table had peered round to see where the profanities were coming from but I didn’t care. I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed him until he’d left. The flat just didn’t seem right without him. I didn’t care about what people thought or said, I just wanted him to come home.

He was grinning, relaxed again, no more fidgeting. ‘Thank God for that. I’ve been getting a really bad back on Adam’s sofa. And he just doesn’t make sweet love like you do.’

I made a face and Luke burst out laughing.

‘Right,’ he said, taking both of my hands, ‘let’s go and have the best night.’ Pulling me towards him he bent down and kissed me. I felt my stomach plummet.

We broke away and I wasn’t able to answer for a moment, the relief so enormous. He was back, he was coming home, he still loved me, I hadn’t stuffed up the best thing that had ever happened to me. ‘Definitely,’ I said, reaching to kiss him again.

He grinned and pressed me back to arm’s length. ‘Also, have you seen the drummer?’

I nodded.

‘Yeah,’ Luke said. ‘You’re not allowed to hang out with the band any more.’

Laughing, he moved inside the marquee with me, one arm around my waist. Amy, preparing to enter the marquee with Will further down, looked across at me, grinning as she saw us together. I couldn’t stop the massive smile splitting my face.

‘Love you,’ she mouthed.

‘Me too,’ I mouthed back. Feeling Luke’s hand on my back as he guided me to our table I thought my heart would burst. I would not mess this up a second time.

Chapter 30

Love is the absolute frickin’ best

GEORGE, 87

Luke moving back in was a wonderful blur. It felt like the first few weeks of living together, spending evenings laughing and talking, making dinner on alternate nights and remembering all the things we loved about each other. I had stopped sniping, stopped bringing home the stress from my day, was careful not to let any frustration out on him.

Keeping a diary had helped; telling my head of chambers I wouldn’t be applying for silk until I felt ready had also been pain-free. Swapping stupid WhatsApp messages with Amy and spending time with Grandad again had also made me feel so much better.

I loved being in on the great app secret too. Arjun and Geoffrey had been working with Luke and his agency on LOOP – an app for the over-70s to combat loneliness. It contained local information on all events targeted to the older crowd. It mentioned dance classes, art lessons, charity walks and more. Groups were encouraged to add their own events to the app and Facebook group and it had really looked to be taking off already with bingo evenings, golf days, coffee mornings happening in different parts of London. Luke was really excited about the growth.

He had left that morning to add some finishing touches to the scheme and I had run to the window in mock-distress, palms flat on the glass as he walked down the street laughing back up at me. Glowing like an idiot I collapsed on the sofa smiling, a languid Saturday stretching ahead: no work – the new rule.

Moments later the buzzer went and I pressed the intercom button. Familiar voices on the stairs made me open the flat door to see Margaret and Paula struggling up clutching two large bags, Howard waving from the window of his car before speeding away.

‘Oh, hi.’

They were grinning. ‘Surprise.’

‘We’re here,’ Paula stated as if I’d been expecting them. She strode straight past me, commenting on the décor as she arrived inside.

‘Mint green . . . and I like the stripped-back floorboards . . . the light is good . . . we should set up in here.’

Margaret followed her, allowing me to take the bags she was carrying from her. I frowned as I shut the door.

Both women were now fussing about in the living room, clearing a chair, setting the bags down on a table.

‘OK, OK, what is going on?’

Margaret turned around. ‘Well,’ she announced, a gleeful smile on her face, ‘we’re here to give you a wonderful makeover.’

‘We’re going to make you into a vintage siren!’ Paula said.

I stared down at my cotton harem pants and T-shirt.

‘Yes, we have a lot of work to do,’ Paula said, her glossy lips in a disapproving line.

‘Right, take a

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