Страница 33

'Fine. OK, the next thing is, you can show an interest in his hobbies. What does he like?'

'Du

'Well then!' Jemima brightens. 'That's good. Pretend you like cars, suggest visiting a car show.

You could flick through a car magazine on the way there.'

'I can't,' I say, taking a glug from my pre-date relaxer glass of Harvey's Bristol Cream. 'I told

him on the plane that I hate vintage cars.'

'You did what?' Jemima looks as if she wants to hit me. 'You told the man you're dating that

you hate his favourite hobby?'

'I didn't know I would be going on a date with him then, did I?' I say defensively, reaching for

my foundation. 'And anyway, it's the truth. I hate vintage cars. The people in them always

look so smug and pleased with themselves.'

'What's the truth got to do with anything?' Jemima's voice rises in agitation. 'Emma, I'm sorry,

I can't help you. This is a disaster. You're completely vulnerable. It's like going into battle in a

nightie.'

'Jemima, this is not a battle,' I retort, rolling my eyes. 'And it's not a chess game. It's di

with a nice man!'

'You're so cynical, Jemima,' chimes in Lissy. 'I think it's really romantic! They're going to

have the perfect date, because there won't be any of that awkwardness. He knows what Emma

likes. He knows what she's interested in. They're obviously already completely compatible.'

'Well, I wash my hands of it,' says Jemima, still shaking her head. 'What are you going to

wear?' Her eyes narrow. 'Where's your outfit?'

'My black dress,' I say i

where my black dress is hanging up.

Jemima's eyes narrow even further. She would have made a really good SS officer, I often

think.

'You're not going to borrow anything of mine.'

'No!' I say indignantly. 'Honestly Jemima, I do have my own clothes, you know.'

'Fine. Well. Have a good time.'

Lissy and I wait until her footsteps have tapped down the corridor and the front door has

slammed.

'Right!' I say excitedly, but Lissy lifts a hand.

'Wait.'

We both sit completely still for a couple of minutes. Then we hear the sound of the front door

being opened very quietly.

'She's trying to catch us out,' hisses Lissy. 'Hi!' she says, raising her voice. 'Is anyone there?'

'Oh hi,' says Jemima, appearing at the door of the room. 'I forgot my lip-gloss.' Her eyes do a

quick sweep of the room.

'I don't think you'll find it in here,' says Lissy i

'No. Well.' Her eyes travel suspiciously round the room again. 'OK. Have a nice evening.'

Again her footsteps tap down the corridor, and again the front door slams.

'Right!' says Lissy. 'Let's go.'

We unpeel the Sellotape from Jemima's door, and Lissy makes a little mark where it was.

'Wait!' she says, as I'm about to push the door open. 'There's another one at the bottom.'

'You should have been a spy,' I say, watching her carefully peel it off.

'OK,' she says, her brow furrowed in concentration. 'There have to be some more booby traps.'

'There's Sellotape on the wardrobe, too,' I say. 'And… Oh my God!' I point up. A glass of

water is balanced on top of the wardrobe, ready to drench us if we open the door.

'That cow!' says Lissy as I reach up for it. 'You know, I had to spend all evening fielding calls

for her the other night, and she wasn't even grateful.'

She waits until I've put the water down safely, then reaches for the door. 'Ready?'

'Ready.'

Lissy takes a deep breath, then opens the wardrobe door. Immediately, a loud, piercing siren

begins to wail. 'Wee-oo wee-oo wee-oo…'

'Shit!' she says, banging the door shut. 'Shit! How did she do that?'

'It's still going!' I say agitatedly. 'Make it stop. Make it stop!'