A Step In Time Read Online Free Page A

There are loads of tramps wearing your dresses and the paps are going crazy.’
    ‘WHAT?’ I shrieked. ‘Which dresses?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ Josie said. ‘Does it matter?’
    ‘I suppose not,’ I admitted. ‘I’m on my way.’
    I ended the call and stood up, tossing my hair over my shoulders.
    ‘I have to go,’ I said, trying hard not to cry. ‘It seems that, not content with breaking my heart, Matty’s determined to make a fool of me in the papers too.’
    Natasha delved into her huge tote bag and pulled out a piece of paper. She scribbled something on it, then delved again and found a set of keys.
    ‘Here,’ she said, shoving them at me. ‘This is the address and these are the keys. You can move in tonight if you like?’
    Relief flooded me. And Phil, by the look on his face. Clearly he didn’t want to think about taking me – and all my belongings – back to his pristine flat for another night.
    ‘Thank you,’ I said, meaning it.
    ‘Will you be okay on your own?’ Phil said.
    ‘Oh, I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘How much worse can things get?’
    Ready to face the world – and the paparazzi – I twisted my hair into a ponytail, pulled on my baseball cap and picked up my sunglasses. Then I grabbed my bag and gave Phil a kiss.
    ‘Thanks for everything, buddy,’ I said. ‘I’ll give you a call later.’

Chapter Five
    I found a cab without any trouble and soon I was on my way to my old flat in Camden, feeling sick with nerves about what I’d find when I got there.
    What I found was worse than I could have imagined. Matty had stuffed all my clothes into bin bags and then, by the look of it, chucked them all off the balcony of our – sorry, his – first-floor flat. Some of the bags had burst and so clothes were scattered across the drive. Pyjamas, underwear, jeans, dresses – they were all strewn on the paving stones and on the neighbours’ cars. One of my bras swung jauntily from the handlebars of Matty’s motorbike.
    It was raining so everything was slightly soggy and, like Josie had said, word had obviously spread around Camden. Some giggling schoolgirls were rooting through the bin bag squealing in delight as they pulled out all my gorgeous clothes and shoved them into their backpacks. And the old bearded man who hung out at the tube station dancing to the music from the buskers was wearing one of my favourite dresses.
    Aghast, I pushed my face up against the window of the cab.
    ‘That’s my soap awards dress,’ I wailed.
    I opened the window a fraction and was wondering if I should shout something at someone when I heard a yell.
    Matty was hanging out of the bedroom window. I gasped when I saw him. He was so handsome. I’d spent the last two days thinking of him as some kind of monster so it was strange to see him now looking so good. Seriously, seriously good. I almost wanted to rush over to him, kiss his beautiful face, tell him how sorry I was and beg him to take me back …
    ‘Take everything you want,’ he was yelling. ‘Help yourselves.’
    Oh.
    Of course there were three photographers busy capturing everything, plus a camera crew, obviously filming for Matty’s fly-on-the-wall show.
    ‘Keep driving,’ I shrieked. ‘Keep driving!’
    The cab driver met my eyes in the mirror and nodded briskly. Next to me, on the pavement, the teenage girls dug into another bag, pulling out what seemed to be my favourite jeans and trainers.
    I made a split-second decision.
    ‘Stop!’ I shouted. The cabbie jammed on the brakes and I was out onto the pavement in a flash, leaving the taxi door open. As skilfully as any rugby player I swerved round the group of girls. Then, catching them unawares, I yanked the bin liner from one of the girl’s hands, pulled my prized Marc Jacobs clutch from an outstretched arm, and scooped up a pair of battered Converse. Then, before the photographers even had a chance to notice I was there, I dived back into the cab and slammed the door.
    ‘Drive!’ I