Jilly Cooper

The Red Angora Dress/The Square

Peg

These stories were first published in the STORYCUTS series by Transworld Digital 2011

Taken from the collection Lisa & Co.

Copyright © Jilly Cooper 1981

Jilly Cooper has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Cover

Copyright

The Red Angora Dress/The Square Peg

The Red Angora Dress

The Square Peg

Backmatter

We hope you enjoyed these stories. If you want to read more stories by Jilly Cooper, try her other contributions to the Storycuts series such as

The Ugly Swan 9781448125784

A Pressing Engagement 9781448125753

Kate’s Wedding 9781448125777

Alternatively, read the original parent collection, Lisa & Co 9781409032168.

Little by little, I could feel Andrew was going off me. It was horrible – like trying to carry water in cupped hands: however tightly one’s fingers are pressed together the water trickles away. There’s nothing you can do.

We’ve nothing in common really – he’s a sports commentator on television and I’m a scruffy bookworm. In the beginning this used to fascinate him.

‘You’re so utterly different from anyone I’ve ever met,’ he would keep saying in a special husky voice. Pretty corny really, but with a man as attractive as Andrew – randy Andy his friends call him – you put up with it. He really laid siege, but being the sort of man he was, as soon as I was hooked, he promptly went off me. So seven nights a week dwindled to once a week, and then once a fortnight. In fact, I thought he’d gone for good, until he obviously had a pang of conscience and rang up and asked me to a party the following Saturday.

I must get him back, I thought. I’ll buy the most beautiful dress and slim.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look a grapefruit in the face again but by Saturday, I’d lost seven pounds. The temperature had also dropped and it was freezing so hard that I was glad I had bought something warm to wear. I had blown three weeks’ salary on a ravishing red angora dress with long sleeves and a high neck. It clung like a second skin, and I was all set for the great comeback.

I timed getting ready like a military operation: face pack, eye pads, early bath, not too hot so my ankles didn’t swell. My hair looked great, and my make-up for once went on like a dream. In fact, I was really pleased with myself. I was just pinching some of my mother’s scent when the doorbell rang.

‘She’ll be down in a minute,’ said my mother. She sounded like Kermit introducing the guest star of the show, but I rather spoilt the effect by tripping over the carpet at the foot of the stairs.

‘You look wonderful,’ said Andrew in a surprised voice.

‘She ought to,’ said my father, tactless as ever, ‘she’s been getting ready since breakfast.’

‘We’re giving Kit a lift,’ said Andrew. Kit and I don’t get on but Andrew thinks he’s terribly funny – so does Kit. They threw my coat in the back, and although it was arctic outside, I was warm as toast hemmed in between the two of them with the heater turned up high.

‘Who’s giving the party?’ I asked.

‘A girl called Sylvia Oxley. Her parents are away for the weekend, so she’s having it at their house. She’s a model so there should be a lot of theatrical and television people there.’

My heart sank – models put the fear of God into me.

‘Do you think Mark’ll be there?’ asked Kit, fiddling with the radio.

‘Who’s Mark?’

‘Sylvia’s brother – extraordinary chap – up at Oxford, absolutely brilliant but barking mad. He spends all night whooping it up with his chums – and all day sleeping it off. Sylvia’s parents are awfully worried about him.’