It Started With A Tweet(87)

‘OK, so perhaps I’m getting my childhood confused with the twins in Sweet Valley High, but we totally could have done this stuff.’

‘Sure, we could. So what does that have to do with the paint tray?’

She comes over and places the tray down in front of me right at my feet. I wish I’d never asked.

‘Pedicure,’ she says. She hands me a piece of fine sandpaper and smiles.

‘You’ve got to be kidding,’ I say, taking it and staring in disbelief.

‘I’m improvising,’ she says, filling up another tray. ‘I’m sure it’s no different to the nail files or foot stuff you get. It’s either that or the cheese grater.’

I shudder at the thought. I’ve only just got over those late-night PedEgg adverts.

‘Just pretend we’re at a spa.’

She places her paint roller down on the floor and sits next to me. She’s got her shoes and socks off and shoves her feet straight in.

‘I’ve heard all the best spas use building materials,’ I say, as I start taking off my shoes. Well, if you can’t beat them, you might as well join them, and after three weeks of punishing building work, my feet could do with a little TLC.

‘So what are you going to wear?’ asks Rosie.

‘I dunno. Probably my leggings and a top.’

‘You could make a bit more of an effort. I’ve got a really nice Reiss top that would suit your hair.’

I shrug. ‘It’s not like I’ve got anyone to impress.’

‘Oh really? What about Jack?’

I’ve not told her about the notes we’ve been passing back and forth, but I guess she’s realised something’s been going on. She’s not stupid.

‘I expect he’ll be going with his girlfriend.’

‘His girlfriend?’ she says with almost a gasp.

‘That’s right, you know Jenny, the hairdresser.’

‘Really? Her and Jack. She seems so friendly, and he seems so .?.?.’

‘You know, opposites attract.’

‘Oh, but that’s a shame,’ says Rosie. ‘I’d thought something was going on with you two as you kept sneaking off.’

‘Ha, no,’ I say, pretending she was barking up the wrong tree, but, honestly, I’d thought the same.

I pull my foot out and start to file the crusty skin with sandpaper, which works surprisingly well.

‘I’m going back to London anyway, it’s not like anything was going to happen on my last night.’

‘Does that go for Alexis too? You two seem to have become quite close over the last few days.’

Nothing gets past my sister. Not when I was hiding bottles of Hooch in my underwear drawer or stealing her lipstick as a teen, and evidently not now.

‘I have to admit he’s been surprising recently. Did you know he’s into the Foo Fighters and The 1975?’

‘He is? He’s always rapping Drake whenever he works with me.’

‘Yeah, it’s weird as I’d have thought he’d be into rap and R&B, but he’s actually seen loads of bands that I have. It turns out that we have tons in common.’

‘And he is devilishly handsome.’

‘Rosie, you’re a married lady.’

‘Married, not blind. You could do better than to have a little holiday romance with him on your last night here. I mean he’s French and everything. You know what that means,’ she says winking.

‘I don’t know what that means,’ I say before I can stop myself. I can’t even run an urban dictionary check because I don’t have my phone.

‘Come on, you know what their reputation is in bed. And, plus, we’ve got doors now and insulated walls, so I won’t be able to hear a thing. Go fill your boots.’

‘Rosie, ick.’

My sister and I have never really been ones for discussing boys and things, and now I know why.

‘Come on, if I was single, I would.’

‘Luckily enough you’re not single. Should I be worried about leaving you both here alone?’

‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t act on it. I’m sure I’m old enough to be his mother.’

‘He’s only ten years younger than you.’

‘I could have been a very forward ten-year-old.’

‘I remember you at ten and you still played with your My Little Pony collection.’

‘I played with you, and your My Little Ponies. I was only being a good older sister.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say laughing.

The kitchen door swings open and Alexis walks in, bringing a blast of fresh air that makes my wet feet go chilly.

‘What are you doing?’ he says, looking from our feet to our faces. ‘Is this some English tradition?’

Rosie and I get the giggles.

‘Yes, yes. It’s very normal to bathe your feet in paint trays. We’re just getting ready for tonight,’ she says, trying to compose herself.

‘OK .?.?.’ he says, clearly thinking we’re barking. ‘It’s good, yes?’

He pulls up a chair next to me and unlaces his boots, before slipping them and his socks off and sliding his feet into my tray. I retract mine a little as he makes contact and I can’t help my blushes.