Friday Night With The Girls by Shari Low

Author:Shari Low [Low, Shari]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-03T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-six

Butterflies! I actually had butterflies in my stomach. That hadn’t happened since I charged out of a New York taxi in the marital version of The Great Escape.

‘OK, tell me again how nice your parents are and how your mother isn’t going to stab me with a steak knife for trying to steal her son.’

‘Do you want me to do it in my pilot’s voice or my normal one?’

I thought about that for a moment. Yes, to my eternal naffness, I’d been making Peter the Pilot say things in his ‘Hello, this is your captain speaking’ voice since we’d met. Even though we weren’t on a plane. Nor was he a captain. Thankfully, he still thought it was cute. I had absolutely no doubt that the novelty would wear off, he’d start to see me as some kind of demented bunny boiler and he’d be out of there quicker than you could say ‘One way Easyjet to Luton’.

‘Normal. No, captain. No, normal. Definitely normal.’ I had a feeling this vocal tussle wasn’t building my case for long-term girlfriend potential.

He pulled on the handbrake and leaned over and kissed me. ‘It’ll be fine, I promise. My mother’s been much better since the anger management classes. She hasn’t killed a single person this year.’

Did I mention that he could sometimes be quite funny? And he was a pilot?

We both got out of the car, met on the pavement and I leaned down to return the snog.

Yes, he was short. In my gravity-defying heels I was close to five foot ten. He was five foot six. We were Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman – without the weird religious beliefs and the multi-million pound divorce settlement.

The height difference didn’t bother me in the least. Not at all. OK, it did feel a little bit odd. I just kept telling myself that we’re all the same size lying down. Size doesn’t matter. Good things come in small packages. Lizzy and I had come up with at least half a dozen other similar clichés the other night but imminent in-law fear was now affecting my powers of recollection.

The doorman at the Carriage Club opened the huge bronze door to let us through and my excitement/trepidation level slid up another notch. The Carriage Club was the most exclusive restaurant venue in Glasgow; a four-storey building that contained a stunning, Gothic designed restaurant, several bars and a nightclub that was frequented by the trendiest people in the city. It attracted an eclectic mix of the wealthy, the celebrity and the successful. Er, and me. Who was none of the above. This might explain why I’d only been twice, both times with Ginger, who practically lived there when she was in town. Tonight we were here courtesy of Peter’s father who was something big in banking. I made a mental note to warn Josie to keep her career in financial fraud quiet if she ever met him.

We made our way up one of the sweeping gilt staircases, across the huge mezzanine area at the top and through the imposing doorway that led to the restaurant.

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