A Night In With Grace Kelly by Lucy Holliday

Author:Lucy Holliday [Lucy Holliday]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2016-10-13T04:00:00+00:00

Olly hasn’t answered his phone all morning.

Nor, more worryingly, has he responded to two messages or a text asking him to call me back.

Which is why I’m here, now, on my way into his restaurant, to catch him just before he starts lunch service. I can’t just leave a voicemail or a text to let him know I’m turning down his generous offer of accommodation. It’ll set alarm bells off, if I seem to be avoiding him when passing on such important information, and the last thing I want is to set alarm bells off.

Mostly because I’m a tiny bit terrified of Tash, obviously.

But also because it might lead to a conversation with Olly that I’d rather stick red-hot needles into my eyes than initiate.

So I’ve come to Nibbles in the hope that he’ll be too busy and too distracted by the restaurant opening in five minutes, and that therefore he will accept the explanation I’m offering, which is that I’m going to stay at Dillon’s instead, so that I can be there for him as soon as he gets out of rehab.

This isn’t, I should add, entirely untrue. I am going to stay at Dillon’s instead. It’s just that it’s not specifically to ‘be there’ for him as soon as he gets out of rehab. If anything, I’ll have to make sure I’m well clear of his place before he gets out of rehab, because I know it’ll actually be really important for him to have his own space when he gets out, and not to have me there as some sort of co-dependent crutch to lean on. But this aside, it’s actually a pretty good plan. Dillon called me early this morning – his daily permitted call from Grove House, which I’m very flattered that he made to me – and once he’d grunted a few reluctant replies to my questions about his welfare and swiftly moved the topic off himself again, I mentioned Tash’s late-night visit.

‘For fuck’s sake, Lib,’ he said, once he’d inveigled the rest of the story out of me (his appetite for Olly-related gossip being, apparently, limitless), ‘just move into my flat for a bit instead. The place is going to be empty until I’m out of here. And I promise, I won’t let any of my psycho girlfriends come round and threaten you into going elsewhere.’

‘Look, I didn’t say Tash was a psycho,’ I said, firmly. ‘I just don’t feel right about moving in with Olly when … well, it probably wasn’t the best idea in the first place.’

‘Trust me, sweetheart, moving in with Olly Walker is always going to be a lousy idea. I’ll bet he’s the worst flatmate alive, anyway. Leaves hair in the shower drain. Gets butter in the Marmite. Skidmarks on the—’

‘It’s all right, Dillon. You don’t need to persuade me.’

‘Not to mention the phwoar factor engendered by all that cosy domesticity,’ he goes on, clearly feeling that, despite what I’ve just said, he does need to persuade me after all.

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