Nothing to Lose Read Free Page A

often enough. A smarmy showroom-bound wimp like Andrew.’
    Clara disliked Andrew even more than Benny had, if that were possible. Jasmine, who had known Andrew ever since schooldays, and who had had no previous serious boyfriend, had been engaged to him for the last three years. They’d sort of drifted into it, sort of stuck together, and certainly Jasmine had never considered ending it. So what if it wasn’t a Grand Passion? Neither of them had expected that, had they? It was safe, it was familiar, and both sets of parents approved.
    She grimaced. Her parents would never, ever approve of anything she did again . . .
    Philip and Yvonne had been incandescent since the day of the funeral. The rows in their five-bedroomed mock Tudor detached had raged for weeks. They had culminated in Jasmine, for the first time in her life, leaving home. Silently, she’d packed her suitcase and decamped to the beach hut. Andrew had joined in on the parental front at this point, and told her that there was no way she could live, like some down-and-out, in a dilapidated chalet that was due for demolition.
    Fired by a fierce determination that she hadn’t even known she possessed, Jasmine had told him to mind his own business, and had also evaded both her father’s and Andrew’s insistence that she must invest her nest egg wisely – either in Andrew’s car dealership or Philip’s portfolio – and had deposited her inheritance in her building society account.
    She had a feeling she hadn’t heard the last of the matter.
    ‘Tell you what.’ Jasmine fanned herself with the flapping hem of her T-shirt. ‘Shall we abandon this for a bit and go to the Crumpled Horn?’
    Clara shook her head. ‘We will not. We’ll finish the job first.’
    ‘God, you’re so bloody focused.’
    Clara looked smug. ‘Which is why I’m Sales Director of Makings Paper, while you’re – well, God knows what you are.’
    ‘I’m a bookie.’ Jasmine grinned at her. ‘Or at least I will be as soon as I’ve had a few lessons.’
    Clara gave her a withering look, and once again applied her shoulder to the cluster of carved beechnuts dangling from the chiffonier’s corner. ‘And have you told your parents and the squirmy Andrew that you’ve jacked your job in yet?’
    ‘Hell, no. They’re still getting over Grandpa’s legacies and the fact that I’ve left home. Telling them that I’m no longer inputting boring figures on to boring computers in the boring accounts department at Watertite Windows would possibly be a scrap of information too far at the moment. Hey – I think we’ve done it! It moved!’
    With a lot of scraping and cursing and a shriek from Clara as another fingernail splintered, the chiffonier was finally heaved into place. Sweaty, grimy, and triumphant, Jasmine surveyed it with pleasure.
    ‘Doesn’t it look lovely? Oh, thanks, Clara – you’re a real pal.’
    ‘I’m mad and so are you. Look, Jasmine, you do know you don’t have to live here, don’t you? My flat is huge, and it’d be really fun to share and – ’
    ‘And I’d drive you crazy by filling it with clutter and making a mess and knocking things over. ’ Jasmine said, thinking of Clara’s pristine minimalism with a shudder. ‘No, thanks so much, it’s really kind of you – but I don’t think even our rock-solid friendship would survive being together twenty-four hours a day. Anyway, I love this hut.’
    Clara grinned. ‘Rather you than me then – but the offer stands should things get desperate. Right, so now you can stay here and play house while I go and get a takeout from the pub. Any preference in crisp flavour?’
    ‘Not cheese and onion. They make me cry.’
    Clara gave her a swift hug. ‘Poor thing. Is it still awful?’
    ‘Yup. It’s getting a bit better, though. I usually only cry at night now.’
    ‘I should have been here for the funeral.’
    ‘You couldn’t help being in Guatemala.’
    ‘Guadeloupe. And it was naff timing for a