How to Get a (Love) Life Read Online Free PDF Page B

asked me,’ she stressed. ‘And so I’m telling you.’
    ‘Fine, thanks. I get it. Can we drop it now?’ I pleaded.
    I heard a door open. Caroline paused, mouth agape, her fresh attack momentarily suspended.
    ‘Nicola,’ came James’ voice.
    I jumped and spun around on my chair to face him.
    ‘Nicola, I need you to pop to Alexandra Street and pick up the proof for our new poster.’
    I looked at him blankly for a moment, then registered his request. ‘Oh, right, yes, of course, James,’ I said, flustered.
    ‘Everything okay in here?’ he asked, smiling round at us both, an eyebrow raised.
    ‘Absolutely fine,’ we chorused at him.
    He gave us one last funny look and then returned to his office.
    I sighed, picked up my handbag, and, looking anywhere but at Caroline, went out to the printers.
    I brought Caroline a Twirl from my trip out and things went straight back to normal. The power of chocolate. I was relieved to see Caroline bustling about as if the horrid conversation had never happened. She was arranging the diary for next year and kept muttering things like, ‘I can’t believe it’s only seven weeks till Christmas’ and ‘Where on earth does the time go ?’
    ‘Nic,’ she said. ‘I’m sorting out holidays for next year. I’m taking a week off in January to get the kids ready for school. When do you need your time off?’
    ‘Oh, um, I haven’t really thought about it.’ I shrugged.
    ‘Alright, well let me know whenever you know.’
    ‘Bet you’ve already booked Valentine’s Day,’ I chuckled.
    Last year David had flown Caroline to Rome on a friend’s private jet for the weekend. ‘Completely extravagant,’ Caroline had fussed. Secretly she’d been delighted and I’d spent the year wondering how David was ever going to top that.
    ‘Nope, I’ve actually booked the fifteenth off,’ she smiled wickedly, ‘I won’t want to work the day after Valentine’s Day. To have and to hold and all that.’
    ‘Eugh,’ I clapped my hands to my ears in mock horror. ‘Stop talking like that, I’m only young.’
    ‘What about you, Nic? Why don’t you take Valentine’s Day off, keep it free for … someone?’
    ‘I don’t think so, Caroline. I’ve never had a date on Valentine’s Day.’
    ‘ What , ever?’ she frowned.
    ‘Never,’ I confirmed, smiling ruefully at her.
    ‘But you have been asked out on a date on Valentine’s Day before?’ she checked.
    ‘Er, no,’ I mumbled, suddenly deeply embarrassed by this confession.
    ‘That’s awful,’ she said, looking aghast. ‘Just awful.’
    ‘It’s not awful,’ I protested, trying my best to brush off her reaction.
    ‘But didn’t you date a man for three years, didn’t he—?’
    ‘—Don’t, Caroline,’ I warned.
    ‘But … but …’
    ‘Just forget it. It’s fine!’
    ‘Of course, I, well, it’s just …’ she tried to recover herself and clearly couldn’t. ‘Actually no, that’s awful.’ She shook her head and we lapsed into an awkward silence.
    A few uncomfortable moments passed and then, all of a sudden, she launched herself out of her chair and marched over to my desk.
    ‘Right,’ she said, reaching above my head. I cowered for a brief second in case she was here to smash me round the ear. She wasn’t. Instead, Caroline took down the faded wall calendar that hung behind me (an Impressionist’s calendar from 2006 that was always on April because everyone liked the Degas ballerina picture on it). She flipped through to February and took out her big red marker. She circled the 14 th . Then she placed it on top of the work I’d been doing and stood before me. I looked at the new picture, Renoir’s The Theatre Box , and looked back up at her, baffled.
    ‘You, Nicola Brown,’ she said pointing at me with an unsteady hand, ‘are going to listen up.’
    I gulped.
    ‘By that day,’ she pointed at the circled fourteen, ‘you will have been asked out on a Valentine’s date by someone