Page 27 of Who’s That Girl?

‘Um, I think I did it for five days.’

‘Crikey, Charlotte!’ she gasps.

‘But I was rubbish and gave up halfway through. You’re supposed to do it for ten.’

‘Ten days,’ she squawks. ‘Ten days!’

‘According to Melody, my client, you can lose ten pounds.’

She stops squawking. ‘Right, that’s it,’ she declares, galvanised. ‘Where do I sign up?’

I look at her uncertainly. Vanessa? On a cleanse? ‘Are you sure …?’ I say doubtfully. ‘You won’t be able to drink alcohol …’

‘I know, I know,’ she snaps impatiently. ‘Is that it?’

‘Well …’ I hesitate, wondering how I can put it. ‘There can be a few side effects.’

‘Such as?’ she demands.

I pause. It’s a bit vulgar. Oh, what the hell, it’s best she knows.

‘Sharting.’

There, I’ve said it.

‘Excuse me?’ Vanessa crinkles up her brow.

‘It’s the saltwater enema, you see, that you do as well as drinking the juice—’ I begin quickly explaining, but she interrupts.

‘Charlotte, what on earth’s “sharting”?’

‘It’s when you think you’re going to … fart,’ I whisper tentatively.

‘That’s it?’ She rolls her eyes.

‘Well, no, instead you actually …’ I trail off. ‘You know.’

‘No, I don’t know. You’re not making any sense,’ she snaps impatiently.

‘It’s the two words joined together …’ I wince. Oh God, this is hard. ‘Farting and—’

‘Shit!’ she says in horror, suddenly getting it. Her jaw drops open and she clamps her hand over her mouth, and just when I think she’s going to launch into a disapproving diatribe, she explodes into hysterical laughter. ‘That is so funny!’ she gasps between giggles. ‘Sharting!’ Shoulders shaking, she’s rocking backwards and forwards on the garden wall, letting out loud snorts, and I can’t help but laugh too. ‘That’s the old Lottie I know and love! Coming out with something like that! It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!’

My laughter subsides. ‘What do you mean, the old Lottie?’

‘Well, you know, you’re a lot more sensible now – you don’t say things like that any more. Unfortunately,’ she adds, cracking up again.

I feel a twinge of discomfort. I’m not sure I like that.

‘Vanessa? Is that you?’ Julian’s voice calls from inside.

Immediately she stifles her giggles. ‘I should go,’ she says reluctantly, standing up and hiding her contraband goods in her large tote.

‘Yeah, me too.’ I nod, glancing at my watch. ‘I need to pop back to the office before I go home.’

‘We should do this more often.’

‘Definitely.’ I love Vanessa, but we just never get to see each other enough these days. ‘How about two weeks on Thursday?’ I say, checking my phone.