Mumnesia (15 page)

I blink. ‘Well, what?’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Oh! Yes! Of course! Sorry!’ I scurry
backwards to let him past, then shut the door.
Awesome start,
Shazza!
‘You look nice,’ I say quickly, trying to
make up for it as I hurry after him.

‘What?’ He looks up as he perches on
the sofa – which luckily Lucy has cleared of pizza boxes!
‘Oh. Thanks. You too.’

Awesome! Thank goodness Lucy chose my outfit!

‘Oh, I’ve had this dress for, like,
ages! Remember I wore it on our tenth wedding
anniversary?’

He nods. ‘How could I forget?’

‘I still can’t believe you threw me a
surprise party!’

‘I know.’

‘I had absolutely no idea. You
must’ve been secretly planning it for weeks!’ I try
to remember exactly what Lucy had told me. ‘Then just . . .
boom – SURPRISE! I was so shocked!’

‘Sharon, I said I was sorry!’ Danny
jumps up, his eyes blazing. ‘I’ve said it a million
times. What more do you want?’

I flinch. ‘What?’ Holy guacamole,
what’s going on? Why is he apologizing? Why is he
upset?

‘Yes, I knew you hated surprises
–’ he runs his hands through his hair –
‘but I thought you’d like the party! I
didn’t know
you’d fallen out with your cousin
and the last thing you wanted was to spend an evening with her
– you didn’t tell me!’

WOW. And Lucy didn’t tell
me
that
part. I guess she didn’t know!

‘But I get it.’ He nods, gritting his
teeth. ‘You hate surprises. And I promised I’d never
do anything like that again, and now I have, with Australia. Very
symbolic.’ He glares at my dress.

OMGA!
Stupid dress!
‘No, Danny,
I—’

‘But it’s not the same,
Sharon!’ he protests. ‘I haven’t been
“
secretly planning it for weeks
”! I called you
the
moment
I found out about Ingrid’s job offer,
and—’

‘DANNY!’ I yell and he looks at me,
his cheeks flushed. ‘You’ve got it all wrong! I
didn’t mean anything by wearing this dress, I promise! I
wasn’t being symbolic! The last thing I want to do is fight
with you!’ Like, duh! I’m supposed to be making him
hate
Ingrid
– not
me
!

I only hope Lucy’s having more luck.

The spa is amazing! As we step through the
swooshing glass doors I am practically blinded by the gleaming
marble floors.

‘Welcome!’ The kimono-wearing receptionist smiles
as she checks us in. ‘I see you’ve already booked
your treatments online.’

Ingrid turns to me, surprised. ‘Have we?’

I nod. ‘I hope you don’t mind – I wanted to
make sure we could do everything together. They get very busy
here,’ I say, trying desperately to keep a straight face.
Shazza and I had the
best
time choosing Ingrid’s
treatments last night!

‘That’s so sweet!’ Ingrid beams as we head
to the changing rooms. ‘I’m so glad we’re doing
this, Luce.’

I grin. Not as glad as I am!

‘Look, let’s just sit down and
chill out a bit, OK?’ I suggest. ‘Can I get you a
coffee, Danny?’ After all, apparently everyone loves coffee
these days!

‘Caffeine’s the last thing I
need.’ Danny sighs, sinking on to the sofa.
‘I’m sorry. I’m just a bit on edge, I
suppose.’ He rubs his brow. ‘I knew tonight
wouldn’t be easy, and I know this is a really tough
situation, and you must
hate
me for even
suggesting
taking Lucy away—’

‘I don’t hate you,’ I
interrupt, perching on a chair. ‘I could never hate you,
Detective Dan.’

His gaze softens. ‘No one’s called me
that in years.’

I smile. Progress! ‘Do you still have your
grandad’s magnifying glass?’ I ask. ‘You used
to take it with you everywhere!’

A frown flickers over his face. ‘No,
don’t you remember?’

Uh-oh. What don’t I remember now?

‘That year we made a snowman in the front
garden and you decided he should be a detective – so you
put my magnifying glass in his hand?’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ I lie.

‘But in the morning the snowman had gone
– and so had the magnifying glass.’

The smile drops from my face.

‘Someone  must’ve nicked
it,’ Danny  continues, ‘and the snow melted, but
Lucy was convinced he’d come to life and gone off to solve
a mystery somewhere.’

I smile again . . . tentatively. So this is,
like, a
happy
story . . . ?

‘It’s the reason Lucy loves snowmen
so much.’

‘Of course it is,’ I babble, trying
to cover my mistake. ‘Not much snow in Australia
though!’ His face falls and my heart plummets. Me and my
big mouth! ‘I-I didn’t mean—’

‘I know what you meant.’

‘No, Danny . . .’

Suddenly the smoke alarm goes off and I
freeze.

Argh! The chicken!

‘Argh! Ow!
Ouch!
’

Wow, I can hear Ingrid’s bones crunching from across the
room.

#Excellent

I wish I could watch what’s happening, too, but both our
heads are tucked into those weird holes in the massage
tables.

‘OWW!’

Actually it’s probably a good thing Ingrid can’t
see me – I can’t keep a straight face!

‘Are you all right, Ingrid?’ I ask, biting my lip
to keep from giggling.

‘Uh, y-yeah. Oof! Are you?’

‘Mm-hm. This is lovely, huh?’ I murmur as my
masseuse smothers warm oil gently over my back. I’m not
sure which I’m enjoying more – my Swedish massage, or
the sounds of Ingrid’s uber-intensive deep-tissue massage.
After all, just because we’re having our treatments
together, doesn’t mean we have to have the
same
treatments . . . not that Ingrid needs to know that!

‘OW!’ she yelps. ‘Ooh! Oh! OMIGOSH,
that’s great! I’ve had a knot there
forever!’

Wait, what? She
likes
it? That was
not
the
plan!

‘Lucy – oof! – this massage is
amazing!’

#Fail

Ugh. The chicken is totally burned.

I turn the oven off and swat at the smoke alarm
with a towel, but it refuses to stop screeching, mocking me for
my major uselessness. So much for impressing Danny with my
cooking!

‘Wow. What happened?’ He walks in,
reaches up and presses a button on the alarm and the noise stops
instantly.

‘I don’t know!’ I wail.
‘Maybe the oven was too hot or I didn’t set the timer
properly . . .’

‘Wait, you
burned dinner
?’
His eyes twinkle. ‘I thought it must’ve been a candle
or something! I can’t remember you
ever
burning
food!’

Awesome. Now I’ve made him suspicious
too!

‘Lucy said you’ve been unwell,’
he adds gently.

Yes! Great excuse!

‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m . . . not quite myself,’ I
admit. ‘But I should be back to normal soon.’
Fingers crossed!

‘Good. What was it, anyway?’ he asks,
peering at the charred remains.

‘Chicken cacciatore.’

‘My favourite?’ His expression
softens as he smiles. ‘I think we both need to relax a bit.
Maybe this’ll help?’ He picks up the opened bottle of
red wine left over from cooking.

Holy guacamole! I’ve never had wine
before!

‘And you know what goes perfectly with
red?’ He picks up a takeaway menu from the counter.
‘Pizza. Ever since Lucy mentioned her pizza party, I have
been
craving
it. What do you think?’

I grin. ‘Genius.’

‘Great!’ He pulls out his mobile and
dials the number. ‘Hi, can I have one meat fiesta and . .
.’ He turns to me questioningly.

‘Same.’

He looks surprised. ‘You sure?’

I nod, then remember – too late –
that I’m supposed to be a vegetarian. Oops!

‘Make that a super-sized meat
fiesta,’ he says.

‘But without any—’

‘No olives.’

I smile.
He remembers!

Danny hangs up, then tilts his head to one side.
‘What happened to being vegetarian?’

‘I . . . gave up,’ I fib.
‘Life’s too short.’

‘That deserves a toast!’ He
laughs.

‘Sure . . .’ I look around the
kitchen anxiously.
If I was a wine glass, where would I
live?
I open a random cupboard and find it full of tins. Oh
fudge. The whole evening’s like a major minefield!

Danny grabs two wine glasses from another
cupboard and I blink, surprised – then remember he lived
here for, like, more than a decade, while I’ve been here
less than a week. Duh!

‘What’re you looking for?’ he
asks.

I scan the shelves in front of me desperately.
‘Black pepper!’ I grab it triumphantly and shut the
door. ‘Can’t have pizza without black
pepper!’

Danny laughs again and pours two large glasses of
wine. ‘To pizza . . . and second chances.’ He raises
his glass. ‘Let’s start this evening over
again.’

I beam. That’s
totally
worth
drinking to!

‘This treatment’s really good
for slowing the skin’s ageing process,’
Ingrid’s beautician tells her. ‘Close your eyes,
please.’

‘Great!’ Ingrid beams, shutting her eyes
obediently.

My eyes, on the other hand, are wide open. I don’t want
to miss a single second of what comes next. This is it –
the moment I’ve been waiting for . . . Ingrid’s
facial. Her
snail
facial!

I couldn’t believe it when I spotted it on the treatment
list – who in their right mind would want
snails
on
their
face
? Ugh!

I almost laugh out loud as the beautician picks up the first
snail and places it on Ingrid’s forehead.

Ingrid’s brow crumples, but she doesn’t open her
eyes.

On goes the second . . .

Her cheek twitches, but still she doesn’t look.

#OMG! How many will it take before she realizes?

Three . . .

Four . . .

Five . . .

The suspense is practically killing me!

Finally there are SIX slimy snails crawling over
Ingrid’s face! I SO wish Shazza was here to see! Just
watching as they leave a slimy trail over her cheeks makes me
shudder. Yuck! She’s going to get such a horrible
shock!

‘Gosh, that feels really weird,’ Ingrid says.

‘Just relax,’ her beautician says calmly.
‘Try not to move too much – it disturbs
them.’

‘Disturbs who?’ Ingrid mumbles.

‘The snails.’

‘The what?’ Ingrid finally opens an eye.

This is it!

‘Oh my
gosh
!’ she gasps.

I    grin,   
bracing    myself   
for    the    bloodcurdling screams
. . .

‘I’ve always wanted to try this! Great choice,
Lucy!’ Ingrid cries.

Seriously?
She’s
always wanted
snails
slithering over her face?

#Disgusting!

BLEURGH! I nearly choke on my wine –
it is MAJORLY DISGUSTING!

‘Are you
OK
?’ Danny asks,
patting my back. ‘Did it go down the wrong way?’

‘Mm-hmm,’ I lie. How can grown-ups
drink this stuff? I pretend to take tiny sips, then as soon as
Danny goes to the loo I empty my glass down the kitchen sink.
Gross! Now I need a replacement ‘wine’ so he
doesn’t pour me a refill! I look around and spot a bottle
of blackcurrant squash. Perfect!

Quickly I pour it into my glass, then add water
till it looks roughly the same colour as the wine.

‘What’re you doing?’ Danny says
suddenly, and I spin round.

‘Just . . . getting a top-up,’ I
bluff. Will he notice the difference?

‘Good idea.’ He refills his own
glass. ‘I haven’t had wine for ages.’ He grins
conspiratorially. ‘Ingrid’s super-strict about her
diet – she has to be, really, being a personal trainer, but
seriously – no carbs and no dairy equals no
taste
!’

I smile. Criticizing Ingrid is a majorly good
sign. Finally this evening is going well!

Tonight is not going well. At all.

‘Ooh, that tingles.’ Ingrid smiles as her
beautician applies her face mask.

Seriously? Tingles?
Tingles?
It’s a
bee-venom
mask – isn’t it supposed to
sting
?

I close my eyes as my beautician slathers avocado goop over my
face, glad I can’t see Ingrid’s irritating smile any
more.

‘We’ll just leave you ladies to relax for a few
minutes,’ the beautician says, and I hear the door click as
they leave.

Relax? I’m seething. All I’ve managed to achieve
is to loosen Ingrid’s muscles for the first time in years
and give her facials that’ll make her look even younger and
more
beautiful.

#UberFail!

‘Ooh, Lucy, I can really feel my skin plumping
up,’ Ingrid giggles.

Terrific. Now her tiny wrinkles are being ironed out too.

‘That’ll be the bee venom,’ I reply, hoping
to creep her out. Unlikely, seeing as snails didn’t seem to
faze her, but I’m running out of ideas . . .

‘Did you say
bee venom
?’ Ingrid gasps.

My heart leaps. Maybe she’s scared of bees?

‘Uh-huh. Apparently Kate Middleton swears by
it.’

Ingrid just swears. Loudly. ‘
Lucy!
I’m . .
. allergic . . . to bee stings!’ she wheezes.

‘WHAT?’ I yell.

I open my eyes – or try to, but the avocado goop is
pretty heavy and I only manage to peek out from under one
eyelid.

It’s enough.

Ingrid’s entire face has swollen to twice its size!

‘Can’t . . . breathe!’ she gasps.
‘Need Epi . . . Pen! Help!’

Then she passes out.

#OMG! I didn’t mean to KILL her!