Every Good Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

Harvey Nichols,’ Nina said, peering through the window again. ‘Look there’s one – just coming out of the deli, not bad actually, but he’s got that “I’m just going to run home and marinade the free-range chicken before picking up the kids from the Montessori” look. For every “Not Bad” out there, there’s some gorgeous, brainy, creative,
young Mrs
Not Bad, you can bet a heap of folding money on it.’
    â€˜Well you know what I think: you should do what I do and simply shop for men in the
Sunday Times
Encounters column. That way, you just go out with them as and when you feel the need for an ego-boosting date. No hassles, promises, breakfasts or blame.’
    Nina laughed, ‘Yes, but more often than not you come home complaining that they were a total waste of time and make-up.’
    Sally wagged a finger at her. ‘Learn by my mistakes. Never go for one that describes himself as “bored” – that means married. Or one that specifies a Good Sense of Humour. You should be able to take that for granted. They can use the line space to list more important attractions, like the Ferrari or the VIP.’
    â€˜When you say VIP . . .’ Nina sensed a rather ruder interpretation than the usual one.
    â€˜Very Impressive Penis, of course,’ Sally said. ‘Anyway, what about your dependable old Henry-up-the-road,’ she suggested. ‘You wheel him out for supper sometimes and he’s quite presentable. Haven’t you ever—’
    â€˜
No
. Absolutely never. Henry is a brilliant neighbour and friend and has been for years and that’s all. We don’t fancy each other in the slightest,’ Nina stated, adding to make sure Sally got the idea, ‘Not even the teeniest slightest bit.’
    â€˜OK, OK, though some, less worthy folk than I,would suggest that perhaps you doth protest too much.’ Sally smiled slyly at her.
    â€˜No, really. I’m afraid I always think Henry’s most attractive asset is his set of drain rods. Forget finding me a replacement man,’ Nina insisted, ‘I’d rather take up tap dancing or archery.’
    â€˜So do,’ Sally suggested, looking at her sideways. ‘You haven’t actually
done
anything very different since you two separated, have you? I mean you just plod on. Well we all do, I suppose,’ she conceded, worrying that she was being hurtful.
    Nina said nothing, just went on looking out of the window. ‘Look at those nannies out on the green.
They
have all the world’s chances to change what they’re doing, where they are. They’ve got qualifications, youth, energy and still they sit there smoking and sulking by the pond, watching someone else’s kid getting muddy. They don’t have to sit there in the damp air wishing this was Knightsbridge or Beverly Hills; they could
be
there. I’ve got Lucy and Emily and the house, hamster, cat and dog, an ageing mother plus the creeping wistaria and this gallery to deal with. You can only change small bits at a time.’
    â€˜Emily Malone!’ The shout pierced straight through the collective clamour of fifty sixth-formers chatting their idle way down the stairs towards the school lunch hall. Emily looked round quickly, not for the voice, but for an escape route. She hadn’t done the French essay, hadn’t even finished reading
La Peste
, didn’t at all care about rats, plagues, allegory or Algeria. If pushed she would admit that the only French words of interest to her were
Marie Claire, pain au chocolat
and Renault.
    â€˜Shit. Bollocks,’ she murmured to Chloe next to her.
    â€˜Emily!’ came the voice again, ‘Tomorrow at the latest!’
    â€˜Lucky you. She’s given up. She wouldn’t do that for me,’ Chloe said, turning to see where the voice was going.
    Emily didn’t look, didn’t want to risk catching sight of Mrs Hutchins and her