Poppy Does Paris (Girls On Tour 1) (Girls On Tour Book) (9 page)

Well, never mind. Onwards and upwards. I have my career, and my friends, and a new sewing machine. And there’s always online dating. I take out my computer, intending to log on and work on my profile, but instead I end up checking my email yet again to see if Charlie’s replied to my olive branch.

Nothing. Not a peep. And if he hasn’t replied by now, he’s probably not going to reply at all. Feeling miserable, I decide I can’t face internet dating tonight; instead I’m going to run a hot bath and read a good book. I have the whole Booker shortlist to get through, but tonight I think I’ll treat myself to my favourite guilty pleasure; an Enid Blyton book. Maybe
First Term at Malory Towers.
I keep them stowed in a secret box under my bed, even though there’s nobody to see them but me.

First, though, I have to make myself some dinner. Except there’s absolutely nothing to eat except half an avocado, a tin of lentils and some dried pasta. I hazily contemplate avocado lentil pasta, before I realise I’m going to have to phone for a takeaway – again. Going around with the crutches is so knackering, I can’t face going down four flights of stairs to get to the shops. It’s one of the many downsides of living alone: when you’re sick, you have to rely on airlifts of food aid from your local Indian or pizza place.

I’m just rummaging in the kitchen drawer for the Spice Palace takeaway leaflet when I hear a ring at the doorbell. I assume it’s one of the neighbours or someone selling something, but it’s Charlie, out of breath from the stairs and holding two big Tupperware containers.

‘Hi there,’ he says. ‘How are you?’

I stare at him in shock for a few seconds before I manage to say, ‘I’m fine! What brings you here?’

‘I thought you might want some provisions while you’re still hopping.’

‘Wow. That’s amazing – come in.’ Dazed, I watch as he walks in, puts his containers on the table and takes a loaf of brown bread, a bottle of white wine and a pint of milk out of his Red Bull bag.

‘I didn’t make the bread,’ he says. ‘But I did make you a chicken pie . . . and this is a
cassoulet
. In case you were missing France. Thanks for your email, by the way. I’m sorry I didn’t reply – I took the day off today to do some cooking.’

I look at him unpacking all his provisions. I can’t believe he cooked all this stuff for me, and came all the way over to my place with it. I thought only girl friends would schlep across town and bring you food when you’re sick, but I was wrong about that. I was wrong about a lot of things, it seems.

‘Charlie, this is so nice of you. Thank you. How did you even know where I lived?’

He puts a finger to the side of his nose. ‘That’s the advantage of having a brother in the Force . . . no, I’m joking. I asked Sorrell.’ He digs into his bag and produces a white cardboard box. ‘Here’s something else I thought you might like . . .’

I open it up and find four
pasteis de nata
from the Bar San Marco. I look up at him and just grin stupidly, because I can’t think of anything adequate to say.

‘If I were you I’d have the pie tonight, and the
cassoulet
will reheat nicely for tomorrow,’ he says. ‘And before you ask, yes, I did make the pastry. Ever noticed how, any time you produce a pie, people ask you if you made the pastry? What’s that all about?’

I realise he’s nervous, which makes me love him even more for this.

‘I hope you can stay and have some with me,’ I say. ‘Do you want to open up that wine? The glasses are above the hob, on the right.’

‘Great,’ he says, looking happy. ‘I’ll just stick these cakes in the fridge . . . we can have them for dessert.’

I crutch over to him, take his face between my hands and kiss him. He looks surprised at first, but then he kisses me back passionately, putting one arm around me to support me so that I don’t need the crutch. I decide that we might not get around to having those cakes for dessert, but it doesn’t matter; they’ll also be very nice for breakfast.

Don’t miss the second instalment in the truly irresistible
Girls on Tour
series.

Pack your bags, buckle your seatbelts and get ready for . . .

Lily is an actress. At least, that’s what she tells people, even though she’s currently working in a call centre and her last big part was an ad for Sofa Warehouse. So when she’s invited to her cousin Alice’s wedding in LA, it’s a dream come true. Alices fiancé Sam is actually a Hollywood agent; how can Lily fail to get talent-spotted? There’s only one problem; not only is Lily banned from mentioning acting, parts or producers to Sam, she’s expected to spend the entire week doing wedding-related prep (read: chores) with Sam’s boring groomsman Jesse. But Lily firmly believes that rules were made to be broken . . .

Desperate for a mini-break? Join the
Girls on Tour
, a fun, globe-trotting digital series which promises escapism and entertainment in perfect bite-size episodes.

If you enjoy Lindsey Kelk and Mhairi McFarlane, you’ll love Nicola Doherty so let her whisk you away with her
Girls on Tour
series.

Join POPPY in Paris, on a work trip with more than a few surprises in store.

Find LILY in LA, where her dream role is ambushed by an all-American dreamboat.

Take to the slopes with MAGGIE in Méribel, where a romantic skiing holiday turns topsy-turvy.

Ride a Vespa with RACHEL in Rome, where a girls’ holiday is gate-crashed by a blast from the past.

Jet with the girls to Manhattan where they take the city by storm and are shocked by a big secret in the Big Apple.

Go to
www.nicoladoherty.co.uk
and
www.inmyhandbag.co.uk
for sneak peeks, exclusive competitions and glamorous giveaways …

#girlsontour

 
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