by Lynda Renham
The forum had gone into overdrive and Sally from Radio Camden phoned saying it would be super fun to have me back on, to discuss the open letter. I told Sally that I thought I had made my love life public enough.
‘Or lack of love life,’ she said. ‘That’s what the listeners love about it all. Your persistence is inspirational.’
I told her that she would have to find another inspirational woman and hung up. It’s funny to think that when I started the blog I had visions of being an inspiration to women in the manner of Oprah Winfrey.
I must cheer up. There surely is life after Harry Bloom.
‘That would be lovely,’ I tell Rita. ‘I’ll come around at seven to pick Jeremy up. Will you thank him for me?’
*
I shove a macaroni cheese into the microwave and twiddle my thumbs while it cooks. It’s so odd not having Harry beating the drums next door. The microwave pings and I take out the macaroni cheese and eat it while checking Harry’s social media pages. There are no new updates. I sigh, make a hot water bottle, change into my pyjamas and with two muffins for company, snuggle on the couch to watch Pretty Woman. There’s nothing like a feel good movie to cheer you up. By the time the movie finishes I’m feeling heaps better. I yawn, turn off the TV and head for the bedroom. I’m just about to get into bed when the door buzzer sounds and continues going. What the … bloody kids. I lift the receiver and shout ‘Sod off you buggers.’
‘Open the fucking door Phoeb, it’s me,’ yells Mak.
‘What, it’s late,’ I exclaim.
‘Open the door Phoeb,’ says Imogen.
I press the door button and shuffle back to the couch.
Imogen, Malcolm, Mak and Jasper burst into my living room.
‘Come on,’ says Mak, pulling me off the couch.
‘We’re never going to do it,’ says Imogen.
‘Do what?’ I ask.
‘I wish you’d read things Phoebe,’ says Mak.
‘And I wish you wouldn’t talk in riddles.’
‘Bloody Harry only bloody answered your message on your bloody blog. He said to meet him at The Blue Note tonight at nine. It’s almost ten now,’ says Imogen without taking a breath.
I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.
‘Oh what,’ I say. ‘Why didn’t you text me?’
‘We did, numerous times.’
Shit, I must stop turning my phone off.
‘Let’s go,’ says Jasper, throwing a hat at me.
‘But I’m in my jammies and it’s bollocking freezing out there.’
‘What the fuck, come on Phoebe,’ cries Imogen, pulling me to the door.
I grab a cardigan and fumble with my boots as we make our way downstairs. We surge out of the front entrance and I gasp as the cold hits me.
‘The cab’s gone,’ says Jasper with a look of panic on his face.
‘Oh no,’ I groan.
‘Where’s your car?’ asks Mak.
I point to my Polo across the street.
‘I’ll drive,’ says Imogen.
‘Oh the keys,’ I say.
‘Shit,’ groans Jasper.
‘Won’t be a sec,’ I say rushing back into the flat. I rummage through the rubbish in my handbag and am amazed to find them straight away.
I grab a scarf and dash down the stairs. We dive into the car. Malcolm jumps into the back, with Mak and Jasper, but as Malcolm takes up so much room Jasper has to sit on Mak’s lap. I pray the dodgy battery doesn’t play up again. The Polo starts after the third try.
‘You’re on the red,’ groans Imogen
Shit, I knew I should have filled up with petrol.
‘Bugger, I meant to do that. It should get us there,’ I say, while feeling doubtful that it would. I’ve been on the red for days.
‘Which is the quickest way?’ she asks.
‘Take the back roads, I’ll direct you,’ says Jasper.
‘No,’ I cry. ‘If the car breaks down it’ll be harder to get a cab.’
‘She’s right,’ says Mak.
‘But traffic is diabolical,’ argues Jasper.
‘Hurry up,’ demands Imogen. ‘We don’t have time to argue. Which way?’
‘Okay, go straight,’ says Jasper.
‘What did Harry say?’ I ask, through chattering teeth.
‘Meet me at The Blue Note tonight at nine.’
‘That’s it?’
‘What more do you need?’ snaps Imogen, crunching the gears.
‘I thought he might have said a bit more than that.’
‘It’s The Blue Note,’ says Mak. ‘Don’t you get it? It’s just what the psychic said. It’s there that you will find what you are looking for.’
Imogen brakes sharply at a red light and the car stalls.
‘We’re not going to make it,’ I say, checking the time. It’s gone ten. I’m over an hour late.
‘Bugger,’ says Mak.
Imogen looks close to tears. She turns the key in the ignition but nothing happens.
‘Bollocking hell Phoebe, why don’t you look after your car?’ she says hotly.
‘I didn’t think I’d be going out tonight,’ I say defensively. ‘I was going to get the battery fixed at the weekend.’
‘Right,’ declares Mak, ‘there’s only one thing to do. We’ll have to make a run for it.’
‘In my pyjamas?’ I say. ‘I’ll freeze to death.’
‘Your choice petal,’
Oh sod it. I climb from the car and begin running to The Blue Note. Mak tries to hail down a cab but they’re all taken.
‘See you there,’ calls Imogen.
I can’t imagine what we look like. Mak in his multi-coloured scarf and black velvet jacket and me in a pair of pink and white spotted pyjamas.
‘Hurry up Phoeb,’ he calls over his shoulder.
Has he forgotten I’m wearing pixie boots and a pair of Marks and Spencer pyjamas?
A woman stops and takes a photograph of us with her phone.
‘Look Martin,’ she says to her husband.
Bloody tourists. I suppose that will end up somewhere as ‘Phoebe Smith, aged 45 seen running along the streets of London in her PJs.’
‘Come on Phoebe,’ Mak shouts.
We turn the corner and bump into a group of women on a hen night.
‘Ooh hello,’ shrieks one.
‘Love the outfit.’
‘Thanks,’ I say and struggle to catch up with Mak.
‘For pity’s sake, Phoebe,’ he sighs.
We finally stop outside The Blue Note and I struggle to get my breath.
‘No time for that,’ says Mak. ‘You can breathe later.’
He pushes me through the door into the warm interior. We look around and weave through the tables in the hope of seeing him but there is no sign of Harry. I rest my hands on my knees and pant. God, I feel like sixty even if I don’t look it. Thank goodness I stopped eating those pork pies.
‘He’s not here,’ I say.
Of course he’s not here. I’m over an hour late. Why didn’t I check the blog? Stupid Phoebe, will I ever stop ballsing things up?
‘Come on love,’ says Mak, taking my hand. ‘We tried at least.’
I turn to the door and am about to walk through it when Mak squeezes my hand. I follow his eyes to the men’s loo and see Harry standing in the doorway.
‘Hello,’ he says.
‘I didn’t dress up,’ I say looking down at my pyjamas.
‘You’re late,’ he remarks.
‘I know, sorry about that. I didn’t look at the blog,’ I say apologetically.
He rolls his eyes.
‘Why am I not surprised? Thanks for your letter.’
‘You’re welcome. I’m sorry the whole world got to read it too.’
He smiles.
The door bursts open and Imogen, Malcolm and Jasper fall in.
‘What’s happening …’ begins Imogen and then stops when she sees Harry. She takes a step backwards and stands on Jasper
’s foot.
‘Bugger, sorry Jasp.’
‘The thing is. All those things I said on the blog …’ I begin.
‘Ah,’ he smiles.
‘Obviously, I didn’t mean them.’
‘Obviously.’
‘Some things I meant.’
I’m just digging a bigger hole for myself.
‘There’s something I want to ask you,’ says Harry.
‘There is?’ I say.
‘Would you kindly allow me to escort you to the Guildhall ball?’
Imogen gasps.
‘See, what did we tell you,’ says Mak excitedly.
Maybe that psychic wasn’t such rubbish after all. I fight the urge to hug Harry.
‘I’d love that,’ I say.
Harry nods.
‘Great.’
‘Oh for God’s sake man, kiss her,’ says Mak.
I blush. Harry laughs and pulls me to him.
‘Is that okay?’ he asks.
‘Oh yes, very okay.’
Harry takes me into arms and I melt into his embrace. His familiar fragrance wafts over me and I feel all fuzzy inside. His lips land on mine and I sigh. There’s no doubt about it, no one kisses like Harry Bloom. I wrap my arms tightly around him. This time I have no intention of letting Harry go.
‘Where have you been?’ I say crossly. ‘I tried to text you.’
‘Ah, I lost my phone. I’ve been at the hospital, and avoiding you because I thought you hated me.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Is it your mother?’ I say sympathetically.
‘No, I’ve got my old job back as a paramedic. My father and I are never going to agree and my poor mother is trapped in the middle, so I thought it best’.
‘I’ve never really hated you,’ I say.
‘I’m pleased to hear it. I thought you weren’t coming tonight.’
‘Sorry.’
‘You’re here now though.’
‘I’ve got just one question,’ I say.
‘Oh,’ he says, pulling back.
‘If the Marks and Spencer roses weren’t for Jilly, who were they for?’
‘What Marks and Spencer roses?’
‘The ones you bought.’
‘I didn’t buy any. I remember you saying they would have nice roses but I didn’t buy any. I bought some flowers for my mum.’
Silly Phoebe. How did I get it so wrong?
He kisses me again and the guys cheer and everyone in The Blue Note joins in.
‘Hallelujah,’ says Imogen. ‘At last.’
Hallelujah indeed. I finally have a date for the Guildhall do, and what’s more, he’s the most perfect date ever.
If you enjoyed Phoebe Smith’s Private Blog, you will love:
Roxie Brown loves erotica and her friend, Sylvie, loves crime … novels, of course. On a girls’ night out they meet The Great Zehilda, the tea leaf reader, and suddenly Roxie’s Fifty Shades fantasies about her millionaire boss, Ark Morgan, look about to become a reality. But then she looks through the telescope and her life is turned upside down. Roxie and Sylvie, with help from Sylvie’s flatmate, Felix, set out to crack the case. Can Ark Morgan save her or is he the man she should be running from? Then enter Sam Lockwood and her heart is shot with another arrow. Come with Roxie Brown on her hilarious crime-busting romantic adventure and discover if the love of her life is the man of her dreams or if the man she loves is her worst nightmare.
Every bride wants a perfect wedding and that includes Georgina Winters. Amy Perfect is the crème de la crème of wedding planners so who best to plan Georgina s wedding … except the man Georgina plans to marry is the same man who jilted Amy three years ago. Will her plan to give Georgina the most imperfect wedding backfire on her? Is this the chance for Amy to win back the love of her life, or will insufferable Ben Garret put a spanner in the works? Arab princes, spoilt brides and wedding catastrophes make Perfect Weddings a page-turning romantic comedy that will keep you guessing until the very last page.
On arriving home after a friend’s posh wedding, launderette worker Harriet finds her life changed as she discovers her flat ransacked and her boyfriend missing. In a matter of hours she is harassed by East End gangsters and upper crust aristocrats. Accepting an offer she can’t refuse, Harriet, against her better judgement becomes the fiancée of the wealthy Hamilton Lancaster, with dire consequences. What she had not bargained on was meeting Doctor Brice Edmunds.
The Dog’s Bollocks is Lynda Renham’s funniest novel so far. A cocktail of misunderstandings, three unlikely gangsters, a monkey and a demented cat make this novel a hysterical read. Follow Harriet’s adventure where every attempt to get out of trouble puts her deeper in it.
When 29-year-old Binki Grayson is offered a Christmas bonus by her boss at the office party she didn’t imagine he meant a quickie over his desk. Things for Binki just go from bad to worse and by Christmas Day she is not only jobless but boyfriend-less, so when she discovers her late Aunt Vera has left her something in her will she thinks things can only get better. What she doesn’t realise is that her inheritance comes with a complication by the name of William Ellis.
A mishmash of misunderstandings, sex-shop escapades, high finance and a blooming romance make It Had to Be You another hilarious romantic comedy by the uproarious Lynda Renham.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
ChapterTwenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
ChapterForty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
ChapterForty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
ChapterFifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
