A Step In Time: A feel-good read, perfect for fans of Strictly Come Dancing!

‘Amy,’ I said, hoping my hands were clean. ‘I’m Phil’s best friend.’

‘Lovely,’ said Natasha, sounding like she didn’t really care. ‘Anyway, can I have a root around, darling? We’ve got this blasted photo shoot first thing and I need at least three, probably four, hats and the stylist’s pulled out so I’m organising the whole thing on my own. Plus my nanny’s gone AWOL, my buggering husband’s sodded off to Hong bloody Kong, the baby’s got chicken pox, my grandmother isn’t well, and basically everything’s gone to shit.’

I grinned at her. It was nice to meet someone who was having almost as rotten a time as I was.

‘Cup of tea?’ I said.

Chapter Four (#ulink_004b93ef-27c2-5046-8107-ab1ced03c24c)

When I came back into the shop from the tiny kitchen out the back, Natasha was wearing one hat, holding another, and had her phone balanced between her shoulder and her ear.

‘No, no, no,’ she was saying. ‘There’s simply no point in sending another inexperienced nanny. I’ve got four horrible children and they will break her. I need someone tough …’

‘She’s hilarious,’ I said, putting down the tea tray.

Phil nodded.

‘She juggles about a million things, but she’s always in control,’ he said. ‘Her fashion spreads are gorgeous and believe me it’s worth my while to be a bit flexible for her.’

He sat down on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him.

‘Listen, Amy,’ he said, his voice serious. ‘I need to tell you something.’

‘About Natasha?’ I said, in a whisper. ‘What?’

Phil gave a faint smile.

‘No, not about Natasha,’ he said. ‘About Bertie.’

I tried to look sympathetic.

‘Not going well?’ I said. ‘I’m not surprised. You’re very different people, you and boring Bertie.’

Phil laughed.

‘Nice try, Miss Lavender, but yes, it’s going very well, thank you. In fact, Bertie’s parents are coming over from France next weekend and I’m keen to make a good impression on them.’

‘Ohmygod you are adorable,’ I said, taking his face in my hands. ‘Of course you’ll make a good impression.’

Phil took my hands from his cheeks and held them tightly.

‘Amy,’ he said. ‘Please try and understand what I’m telling you.’

Realisation dawned.

‘You’re kicking me out?’ I said. ‘You don’t want me in your flat when Bertie’s parents are there?’

Phil screwed up his nose.

‘Sorry, darling,’ he said. ‘You know I wouldn’t see you on the streets, but this is really important to me.’

I took a deep breath.

‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Honestly. I can easily find somewhere to live. No problem. I’ll go and stay with Mum perhaps.’

‘Really?’ said Phil. ‘I’m not sure that’s a very good idea.’

Slumping against the sofa cushions, I bit my lip.

‘Nah, probably not,’ I admitted. ‘There are more paps in Marbella than there are here nowadays. It’d be a nightmare. Don’t worry, I’ll find somewhere.’

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ said Natasha, who’d come to stand in front of me. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing.’

I narrowed my eyes.

‘It was actually a private conversation,’ I said.

Natasha waved her hand as if there was no such thing, her huge blinging engagement ring catching the light.

‘You’re Amy Lavender, right?’ she said.

I threw Phil a triumphant look. See! She did know who I was.

‘Yes,’ I said cautiously. ‘That’s me.’

‘So I’m guessing you need somewhere to live that’s cheap and quiet and available right now?’

‘Yes,’ I said again, sitting up a bit straighter. ‘Do you know somewhere?’

‘I certainly do,’ said Natasha. She sat down in between me and Phil.

‘My mother has just had something of a mid-life crisis – for the fourth, or perhaps the fifth time. This time, she’s in the throes of a passionate affair with a yoga instructor and she’s headed off on a sort of old lady gap year,’ she began.

I blinked at her, impressed at the idea of her mum and the yoga teacher, but not knowing how this had anything to do with me.

‘Okaaaaay,’ I said

‘So, she convinced me to keep an eye on my grandmother,’ Natasha carried on. ‘Which is no hardship because I adore her, but I’ve got such a lot on, and it’s proving hard to get round to hers every day.’

She chewed her lip.

‘She’s quite sprightly, really, considering she’s almost ninety. She doesn’t need much looking after. Just someone who’s there, you know, if she needs something?’

‘Okaaaaay,’ I said again, still not understanding. ‘Oh, god. Do you mean me? I can’t look after an old lady.’

Natasha gripped my hand.

‘You can,’ she said. ‘She’s fine. She can look after herself, honestly. It’s not like you need to cook for her, or bathe her, or anything like that. Her house has a flat, in the basement. It’s really nice – I lived there myself when I was younger. One bedroom, lounge, blah, blah. So you wouldn’t even be living with her, not really. She just needs someone who’s there in case she has a fall.’