The Undomestic Goddess Read Online Free PDF

to the receiver encouragingly.
    Samantha? Mum is saying in my ear. Are you still there?
    Im just... theyre singing Happy Birthday...
    I put the phone on the table. After a moments thought,Lorraine puts the other phone
     carefully down on the other side of me.
    This is my family birthday party.
    Two cell phones.
    I can see people looking over at the singing, their smiles falling a little as they see Im
     sitting on my own. I can see the sympathy in the faces of the waiters. Im trying to keep
     my chin up, but my cheeks are burning with embarrassment.
    Suddenly the waiter I ordered from earlier appears at the table. Hes carrying three
     cocktails on a tray and looks at the empty table in slight confusion.
    Who is the martini for?
    It was... supposed to be for my brother...
    That would be the Nokia, saysLorraine helpfully, pointing at the mobile phone.
    Theres a pausethen, with a blank, professional face, the waiter sets the drink down in
     front of the phone, together
    I want to laughexcept theres a stinging at the back of my eyes. He places the other
     cocktails on the table, nods at me, then retreats. Theres an awkward pause.
    So anyway...Lorraine retrieves Daniels mobile phone and pops it into her bag. Happy
     birthdayand have a lovely evening!
    As she tip-taps her way out of the restaurant, I pick up the other phone to say good-bye
     but Mums already rung off. The singing waiters have melted away. Its just me and a basket
     of soap.
    Did you wish to order? The maitre has reappeared at my chair. I can recommend the risotto,
     he says in kind tones. Some nice salad, perhaps? And a glass of wine?
    Actually... I force myself to smile. Ill just get the bill, thanks.
    It doesnt matter.
    We were never all going to make a dinner. We shouldnt even have tried to set the date.
     Were all busy, we all have careers, thats just the way my family is.
    As I stand outside the restaurant, a taxi pulls up right in front of me and I quickly
     stick my hand out. The rear door opens and a tatty beaded flip-flop emerges, followed by a
     pair of cutoff jeans, an embroidered kaftan, familiar tousled blond hair...
    Stay here, shes instructing the taxi driver. I can only be five minutes
    Freya ? I say in disbelief. She wheels round and her eyes widen.
    Samantha! What are you doing on the pavement?
    What are you doing here? I counter. I thought you were going toIndia .
    Im on my way! Im meeting Lord at the airport in about... She looks at her watch. Ten
     minutes.
    She pulls a guilty face, and I cant help laughing. Ive known Freya since we were both
     seven years old and in boarding school together. On the first night she told me her family
     were circus performers and she knew how to ride an elephant and walk the tightrope. For a
     whole term I believed her stories about the exotic circus life. Until her parents arrived
     that first Christmas to pick her up and turned out to be a pair of accountants fromStaines
     . Even then she was unabashed and said shed lied to cover up the real truthwhich was that they were spies.
    Shes taller than me, with bright blue eyes and freckled skin, permanently tanned from her
     travels. Right now her skin is peeling slightly on her nose, and she has a new silver
     earring, right at the top of her ear. She has the whitest, most crooked teeth Ive ever
     seen, and when she laughs, one corner of her top lip rises.
    Im here to gate-crash your birthday dinner. Freya focuses on the restaurant in suspicion.
     But I thought I was late. What happened?
    Well... I hesitate. The thing was... Mum and Daniel...
    Left early? As she peers at me, Freyas expression changes to one of horror. Didnt turn up ? Jesus Christ, the bastards . Couldnt they just for once put you first instead of their frigging She stops her tirade; she knows Ive heard it all
     before. Sorry. I know. Theyre your family. Whatever.
    Freya and my mum dont exactly get on.
    It doesnt matter, I say, shrugging ruefully. Really. Ive got a pile of