Twenties Girl by Sophie Kinsella Page A

tables of gawping diners.
    I feel hot and cold as I stare at his empty chair. With a still-shaky hand, I reach for my champagne and take three deep gulps. So that’s that. I’ve fucked up. My best hope is gone.
    And, anyway, what did he mean, I’m “as unprofessional as my partner”? Has he heard about Natalie disappearing off to Goa? Does everyone
know?
    “Will the gentleman be returning?” My trance is interrupted by the waiter approaching the table. He’s holding a wooden platter bearing a dish with a silver dome on it.
    “I don’t think so.” I stare at the table, my face burning with humiliation.
    “Shall I return his food to the kitchen?”
    “Do I still have to pay for it?”
    “Unfortunately, madam, yes.” He gives me a patronizing smile. “Since it has been ordered, and everything is cooked from fresh—”
    “Then I’ll have it.”
    “
All
of it?” He seems taken aback.
    “Yes.” I lift my chin mutinously. “Why not? I’m paying for it; I might as well eat it.”
    “Very good.” The waiter inclines his head, deposits the platter in front of me, and removes the silver dome. “Half a dozen fresh oysters on crushed ice.”
    I’ve never eaten oysters in my life. I’ve always thought they looked gross. Close up they look even grosser. But I’m not admitting that.
    “Thanks,” I say curtly.
    The waiter retreats, and I stare fixedly at the six oysters infront of me. I’m determined to see this stupid lunch out. But there’s a tight pressing feeling behind my cheekbones, and my bottom lip would be trembling if I allowed it.
    “Oysters! I
adore
oysters.” To my disbelief, Sadie appears in front of my eyes again. She sinks into Clive’s vacated chair with a languid sideways movement, looks around, and says, “This place is rather fun. Is there a cabaret?”
    “I can’t hear you,” I mutter savagely. “I can’t see you. You don’t exist. I’m going to the doctor and getting some drugs and getting rid of you.”
    “Where’s your lover gone?”
    “He wasn’t my lover,” I snap in low tones. “I was trying to do business with him, and it’s all spoiled because of you. You’ve ruined everything.
Everything.”
    “Oh.” She arches her eyebrows unrepentantly. “I don’t see how I could do that if I don’t exist.”
    “Well, you did. And now I’m stuck with these stupid oysters that I don’t want and can’t afford, and I don’t even know how to eat them. …”
    “It’s easy to eat an oyster!”
    “No, it isn’t.”
    I suddenly notice a blond woman in a print dress at the next table nudging the perfectly groomed woman next to her and pointing at me. I’m talking to thin air. I look like a lunatic. Hastily I reach for a bread roll and start to butter it, avoiding Sadie’s eye.
    “Excuse me.” The woman leans over and smiles at me. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. I don’t mean to interrupt, but did you just say your phone is embedded in your earring?”
    I stare back at her, my mind scrabbling for an answer other than “yes.”
    “Yes,” I say at last.
    The woman claps a hand to her mouth. “That’s amazing. How does it work?”

    “It has a special… chip. Very new. Japanese.”
    “I have to get one.” She’s gazing at my Claire’s Accessories £5.99 earring, awestruck. “Where do they sell them?”
    “Actually, this is a prototype,” I say hurriedly. “They’ll be available in a year or so.”
    “Well, how did
you
get one, then?” She gives me an aggressive look.
    “I… um … know Japanese people. Sorry.”
    “Could I see?” She holds out her hand. “Could you take it out of your ear for a moment? Would you mind?”
    “A call’s just coming in,” I say hastily. “It’s vibrating.”
    “I can’t see anything.” She’s peering incredulously at my ear.
    “It’s very subtle,” I say desperately. “They’re microvibrations. Er, Hello, Matt? Yes, I can talk.”
    I mime apologies to the woman and reluctantly she