Amanda's Wedding Read Online Free PDF

me realize how much I really, really wanted to hear from Alex. Only to tell him a thing or two, of course. Or listen to him grovel. Where the fuck had Nicholas got this number anyway? I thought of Linda. She paid me back for not doing the washing-up in a myriad of different little ways.
    â€˜Anyway, yeah, I’m pretty busy with all my friends, right. We’re off on some accountants’ night out. God, they’re nutters! But, hey, I might have some time on Tuesday night …’
    Nicholas, it’s Monday now, you plank. Not that I had anything planned, but God, of course I’m not going to say yes at that kind of notice!
    â€˜â€¦ or Wednesday, maybe … We could go out somewhere nice. Hey, give me a ring, it’s 555 8923 – just ask for Crazy Nick, they all know me here! Hyaw! Hyaw! Ciao!’
    Ciao? Suddenly I felt as depressed as I’ve ever felt in my entire life – or at least, in a month or so. This was it then. I was going to get niggled at in a shitty job I didn’t care about, go to my so-called friends’fabulous engagement parties, live with someone who thought hoovering was a positive life choice, drink sludge instead of espresso, and date men who said ‘ciao’ until I got too old and ugly to date anyone at all.
    I slumped down on my desk – the enormous mounds of paper gave it a cushioning effect – and reached out to switch off the speaker mode.
    â€˜A new message has been added to your voice mail,’ said the mechanical voice.
    Immediately, I knew.
    I pressed ‘2’. An annoying voice in my head was singing, ‘He’s coming home, he’s coming, Alex is coming home, he’s coming home …’
    BEEP
    â€˜Mel, hey, it’s me … like, how’re you doing?’ People in the background. I could feel that big lazy grin of his spreading over his face and therefore mine. ‘It’s four o’clock in the morning, we’re just hanging out … where the fuck are we?’ ‘The Village’ – American woman’s voice. Dirty. ‘Yeah, it’s absolutely brilliant and I am cummminngg’, he started to sing, ‘hooommmee tooooo yewwwww.’ There was laughter in the background, a couple of ‘whoops’, then a pause, then: ‘Hey, babe – I’ll be at Heathrow. Today.’ And then he hung up.
    Oh. Oh! Chuffing hell. Every cell in my body renegotiated itself, and I shivered all over. Oh God. How was I going to cope? I would have to clean my bedroom for a start. And buy new pants. And start cooking again, boohoo. Could I reduce the size of my arse by – when? When was his today? Was it todayor was it tomorrow? Piss! I started panicking. Why couldn’t he tell me when his stupid flight gets in? He obviously hadn’t been promoted from the space cadet corps.
    Of course I would have to go. It never occurred to me otherwise. The adrenaline was coursing through my body: I felt as if I’d won; like I’d beaten America, his wanderlust and, well, any other lusts he might have experienced in passing. He was coming home. I was practically jumping up and down on the spot and decided to walk out immediately. Who would notice? Hey, it wasn’t like I walked out over emotional crises a lot! Well … maybe occasionally.
    Alex was coming back! Alex was coming back! He loved me! He loved me! I looked pitifully at the beautiful handwritten note my boss had left me vis-à-vis the delicate diplomatic situation between us and the marketing department, and decided to leg it. I took a deep breath, strode out in front of the secretaries, and announced, rather too loudly, ‘Oh God, meetings all day. Ha! You know what it’s like!!!’ – then bolted, leaving them behind, hissing slightly. Free!
    All the way to Heathrow I bounced up and down in the carriage like a toddler. Terminal Four was mobbed and I wandered off to buy myself a load of make-up and