Eat My Heart Out Read Online Free PDF

the fenced-off zone where feral cats and feral children roamed. Like voyeurs at a peep-show, young couples stared at sumptuous images of semi-detached houses in the estate agent’s window. The council flats soared to the right, wrecking the dream. I passed the local crazy woman, parked outside Specsavers. She wore her hair in bunches and she carried a mangy Cabbage Patch doll. Her whole ensemble was bricolage.
    I stopped and counted out £50. I gave it to her.
    â€˜I’ll tell you a secret,’ she said. ‘It’s something I didn’t put in my memoir because they made me censor it when I had Betty.’ She gestured to the doll.
    I waited.
    â€˜Soon the snow will come. The snow will cover us.’
    â€˜Do you mean as in global warming?’
    She shook her head. ‘No. I said snow . Not sun. It will freeze.’
    â€˜Do you mean the world or just in London?’
    Her teeth were black. She rocked her baby and told me that I was a good girl, really.
    â€˜What do you mean, really?’
    â€˜Really,’ she said. ‘Really you are.’
    I headed to the only vintage shop in Clapham, which was also a coffee shop. Yuppies were sitting around with their iPads and their real babies. I decided not to use the money to pay Vic to go out with me. Instead, I bought a cream satin blouse with a pussy bow and a black pencil skirt, perfect for work, then headed over to Sainsbury’s and stocked up on Bio-Oil to counteract the ageing effects of smoking. I bought a bumper pack of Golden Virginia too. I threw the rest of the money – £17 – down the drain outside Snappy Snaps.
    I had to go back to the flat; I needed to get my balletpumps for work.
    I tried to discern a sign in the clouds that meant Vic would definitely skype me. But there was nothing. I saw a black cat cowering behind a rubbish bin but it didn’t cross my path. I counted seven crow-like birds fighting over a scrap of food. But then another crow appeared. Eight is fucking useless to me. The grand old doors of the church where William Wilberforce had once preached against slavery were being shut and locked at just the moment that I tried to enter. I wanted to pray for Vic to text me. I got really excited when I passed the pond again and saw two white swans, their necks gracefully arched together, swimming in perfect symmetry. They looked utterly in love.
    When I got closer, I realised that they weren’t swans at all – just two white plastic bags, floating aimlessly across the freezing water.
    â€˜Yah cos it’s a gay thing,’ Jasper was saying, spread-eagled on the chaise longue, fondling one of Freddie’s uncle’s bejewelled daggers. ‘That’s why he wrote it. Cos he wanted this guy in like Copenhagen in the 1830s or something ridiculous. And the guy was like no . I’m not a homo. I’m getting married. So Hans Christian Andersen was like, fine. I’m going to write a story about it instead and make like a shit load of money.’
    â€˜Who let Jasper in?’ I demanded.
    They were all dead drunk. Two empty bottles of champagne were standing on the painting of my face. The bust of Freddie’s uncle seemed to shake its head in horror. Samuel was as alabaster as Allegra now; he looked like he was going to be sick.
    â€˜Jasper,’ I said. ‘Get out.’
    â€˜Ann-Marie, charmed to see you as always,’ said Jasper. He tried to kiss me on the mouth but I blocked him. He stank of musk.
    â€˜I’m allowed to have friends over,’ slurred Freddie. ‘We don’t have to live like fucking hermits in a cave any more. Exams is over.’
    â€˜Yeah, so over. Hey.’ Jasper had a widow’s peak. He had the frigid elegance of the international technocratic elite. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that you didn’t get your degree.’ He tried to get his arm around my waist; again, I blocked him.
    â€˜It was a gesture,’ I said.