Chapter One
London
March
The bar was so tightly packed that it seemed to Ellie as if the crowd was giving birth to her friend. First, Hannah squeezed her head between a tiny gap in a sea of shoulders, and then she had to rotate her body and twist her shoulders to break through.
‘It’s closed!’ gasped Hannah, as she managed to grab the bar with one hand and pull herself to Ellie’s side with a grunt.
‘What?’ mumbled Ellie, so distracted by the disturbing image that she had to shake her head to clear it.
‘The roof terrace – it’s closed. All of it. There’s a sign saying it’s reserved for a private party; they’ve got bouncers and everything.’
Ellie’s heart sank. The terrace was the only reason for them coming here in the first place. ‘That explains why it’s so rammed in here.’ She glared pointedly at the sharp suit who’d elbowed her twice since he’d shoved his way to the front of the bar five minutes ago. If that hadn’t been enough for her to loathe him, he was also waving a twenty-pound note at the staff every time they passed, apparently oblivious to the fact that they were still serving another customer.
The barman looked over at them. ‘Who’s next?’
Ellie gave him a bright smile, conscious that the staff might appreciate a friendly face after being run ragged. He shifted towards her and she leaned over the bar, so that he could hear her over the thumping house music.
A twenty-pound note flapped in front of her nose before she had time to open her mouth. ‘Double Grey Goose, on the rocks, and makesureit’s Grey Goose. I don’t want any of that communist shit,’ said the suit, an LA twang to his accent.
‘Sorry,’ Ellie said. Not sorry at all. ‘I was next.’
‘I don’t think so. I’ve been here for at least twenty minutes.’ He gave her a quick up-and-down appraisal that was so filled with disdain, it made her jaw clench. She was used to sneering looks; it came hand in hand with being plus size.
Returning the favour, she gave him the same scornful appraisal. Middle-aged with greased jet-black hair that had obviously come from a bottle. His expensive suit fitted perfectly on his thin frame. Beneath the spray tan, his complexion was sallow, like she’d seen in her alcoholic patients. He was the type to tell her to consider her health, while he trotted around with cirrhosis of the liver.
Ellie lowered his note with a firm press of her index finger. She usually dealt with rudeness with the forbearance of a saint, but tonight was Hannah’s last night in London. Tomorrow her best friend since primary school would leave her to go and live in Australia for a year. This man wasn’t going to push in front of her and get away with it.
Not today, Satan!
‘Iwasnext.’ She stared him down with her bestNurse Ellie takes no prisonersglare.
He looked away first. Wimp.
Turning back to the confused barman, she flashed her pearly whites. No way was she going to let some fatphobic snake ruin her night. ‘Two raspberry gin fizzes, please.’
There was an exasperated huff beside her, but she deliberately ignored the slimy suit.
After their drinks were made and paid for, she handed one of the massive candyfloss goblets to Hannah and sashayed awaywith a toss of her freshly blow-dried hair. Leaving the bar area was significantly easier than arriving.
However, her victory was short-lived, as there was nowhere to sit and barely anywhere to stand. The growing throng of customers grew more and more intense, packed into the small cocktail bar like sardines. Hannah, who was tiny, kept being knocked by a lady’s designer tote that probably cost more than their monthly nursing salaries combined.
‘It’s not normally this busy, is it?’ asked Hannah, dodging another swing of the luxury bag.
‘No. But I guess with the terrace closed…’ They both looked longingly at the closed doors, which were black-lacquered and inlaid with mother-of-pearl to fit with the Asian fusion theme of the restaurant. Chopsticks was a swanky high-rise restaurant, with a tiny cocktail bar serving overpriced drinks, and terrible music. But the roof terrace by contrast was a lush, calming oasis with comfy seating and stunning views of the city.
Ellie twizzled her cocktail stirrer, her heart and hopes for the evening plummeting with each beat of the woman’s tote against Hannah’s head. ‘I’m sorry.’
Hannah gave her arm a light squeeze. ‘Don’t be. It’s still lovely to have one last cocktail with you before I go.’
‘When’s your dad picking us up? We could try somewhere else, the Gun maybe?’ she asked, knowing she was clutching at straws and trying to halt the inevitable.
Soon, Hannah would be gone, and Ellie would be left behind. Nothing but the hospital and helping her family with their flower shop to fill her days. She really needed to get a life – except, she couldn’t afford one.
Hannah checked her watch. ‘Thirty-five minutes?’ Her dad had been a black cab driver for over thirty years, and he was never late.
Ellie did a quick calculation in her head. By the time they’d queued up for the super-fast lift to the ground level, walked to the nearest bar and ordered drinks… Well, they’d only have five minutes left together at best. ‘I can’t persuade you to stay out a bit longer?’
