Escape for the Summer by Ruth Saberton Page A

accountant anymore!” she yelled at his retreating back. “I’ve been made redundant and guess what? I’m going to do something different. I’m going to go somewhere new and start again. And,” she added with a sudden flash of inspiration, “this isn’t even Clapham, you moron! It’s bloody Balham!”
    And Andi couldn’t wait to see the back of the place.
     

Chapter 9
    As far as Andi was concerned today had gone as heinously as any day could possibly go. So far she had been set up by her git of a colleague, made redundant from the job that was keeping the entire pack of wolves from her door, caught her boyfriend cheating and had her bank account emptied. And it was only early afternoon.
    Since Tom’s departure she’d been very busy tearing round the flat like the Tasmanian Devil, ramming any of Tom’s leftover bits into bin bags. Hurling them down the stairs was extremely cathartic. She ripped the sheets off the bed and stuck them on the hottest wash possible and played “I Will Survive”at full volume. All she needed to do now was get a radical haircut and lose a few stone and she’d have exhausted every broken-hearted cliché going.
    Not bad going for one hour’s efforts.
    Andi had to keep busy because if she thought too hard about everything she’d go into meltdown. The problem was that the flat was so small that tidying it only took ten minutes – and there was only so long a girl could watch daytime telly before she seriously contemplated sticking her head in the microwave. So, there was only one thing for it. Andi was going to have to start drinking until she didn’t care anymore or passed out; she really wasn’t fussed about in which order.
    Right. What did she have in the kitchen? Some ancient red that she sometimes used for cooking. It smelt a bit rough and could probably double for paint stripper, but broken-hearted beggars couldn’t be choosers. There wasn’t very much left though. What else was there? She flung open the fridge and tra da! Hiding behind a heel of tired-looking Cheddar and a wilted bag of Florette was a bottle of white wine. It needn’t think it can hide there, thought Andi as she reached in, not when there was a woman in need of oblivion in the kitchen!
    The Christmas Baileys from the back of the cupboard soon joined her haul, as did a bottle of ten-year-old malt Tom had overlooked in his speedy exit. Andi lined her spoils up on the worktop and then fetched a mug. Today was not a day for faffing about with glasses. It was time to get stuck in.
    Andi was just in the process of making a lovely concoction of red, white and whiskey – which would hopefully do the trick – when there was a knock at the door followed by non-stop sounding of the buzzer. She ignored it. It was probably Tom coming back for another game of Fish the Watch out of the Bog.Well, he could ring all day and all night! There was no way she was opening up.
    Andi was deliberating whether or not to add a splash of Baileys to the mix just to help her on her way when there was a knock on the door. Typical. Where was solitude when a girl needed it to drink herself silly?
    “Go away!” She shouted, sloshing the Baileys into a mug having decided that she may as well do this properly. “I never want to see you again!”
    “Charming,” replied a voice huffily. “Be like that then. If that’s how you feel then I’ll go.”
    Andi nearly choked on her drink. Not only because it was disgusting but because it was Angel at the door. This was unusual for two reasons: the first was that Angel seldom left Tooting unless she really wanted something, and the second was that she should be hard at it waxing and plucking and tanning in the beauty salon where she worked. “Worked” in the loosest sense of the word, that was. Angel hadn’t been in the queue when the work ethic was handed out; she’d probably been lying in after a heavy night out clubbing. So to find her sister banging on the door in the middle of the