Loving Danny Read Free

would think you’d never met a guy before. You gonna go to the gig, then?’
    I shrugged, trying to regain my composure. Why do I always ramble like that when I’m nervous? ‘Maybe.’
    ‘You’ve got to go. You never go out any more.’
    It was true. Since my best mate Debbie had gone to university in Manchester and Natasha, Holly and my other friends had gone travelling, my social life had all but disappeared. Even my parents
were beginning to take pity on me, offering me tickets to theatre performances and saying I could join them for bridge games (which, I must point out, I declined, and not always politely). Taking a
gap year had seemed like such a good idea when all I’d thought about was the money I’d earn and the work experience I’d gain. I hadn’t anticipated the loneliness, the sense
that I was the one missing out. How could I have let my parents persuade me to turn down a round-the-world airline ticket for a bus pass and a day job? Still, I didn’t want my suddenly
sophisticated little sister, with her diary full of parties and youth clubs and sleepovers, reminding me of how boring I’d become.
    ‘OK, I’ll go. Do you want to come?’
    ‘I suppose,’ she said, trying not to sound too keen. She flicked her perfectly straight, blond hair. Why hadn’t she inherited the ‘frizz gene’ like me? ‘Yeah,
all right. If I’m not busy.’
    I didn’t like her superior tone. ‘It’s on a school night, Emily,’ I said, bitchily I wanted to make it clear that I was still her big sister, still more worldly and
mature. ‘You’ll have to ask Mum and Dad for permission. What was it you came in for, anyway?’
    She looked hurt. Awkwardly, she climbed off my bed, unsure where to put herself. Now she was sheepish. ‘Doesn’t matter.’
    ‘No, really. Did you want something?’ I tried to make my voice as warm as possible. I hadn’t meant to sound so mean. I really wanted to go to Danny’s gig and I knew I
couldn’t – or wouldn’t – go alone. I needed her to come with me. It might even be fun. Emily may have been a poor replacement for Debbie or Natasha or any of my other
friends, but the fact was my friends weren’t around. Given my circumstances, she was my only choice. And she knew it.
    ‘You know that black halter-neck top you’ve got, the vintage one?’
    I stiffened, certain of what was coming next.
    ‘Can I borrow it for Andy’s party on Saturday? I reckon it will look cool with my new trousers.’
    She was, if you’ll pardon the pun, trying it on. That top was my favourite – the most unique and flattering item in my wardrobe. I’d found it at an antiques market a year
earlier and had bargained the stallholder down until I could just about afford it (it had cleaned out my Saturday job savings). It was made from the softest silk, with jet beading on the halter
part and, because of the way it was cut – I think they call it ‘on the bias’ – it made my waist look tiny.
    Emily could have asked to borrow any other piece of clothing and I would have been more than happy to oblige. But not that top. And not for a sixteenth birthday party. It would inevitably come
back covered in beer (and maybe vomit) and reeking of cigarette smoke. What’s more, the top wouldn’t even suit Emily. It was designed to be worn by a woman with boobs and curves like
me, not one as angular and flat chested as my sister.
    ‘Of course you can borrow it,’ I said, smiling through gritted teeth. If it meant that much to her, I could give in, just this once. ‘But please be careful with it. And get it
cleaned afterwards.’
    ‘Thanks, Nay!’ Emily beamed at me, enjoying her little victory. She was well aware that I don’t like being called ‘Nay’, but all her friends shortened each
other’s names and now doing the same to mine had become an unbreakable habit. She walked back over to the bed and made herself comfortable again. ‘So, what are you going to wear to this
gig,