‘What do you mean, he wrote to you?’. It was true. Greg Champion had sent me an email after this post appeared. I didn’t tell her he thought it was funny….
Clarissa stirred her G&T in a manner which could only be described as narky. ‘I’m the one who’s going to write him his best songs this year. I’m the one who’s organising you to knit socks for him. Unless -‘ She looked at me suspiciously. ‘Unless he likes you more than me.’
‘Clarissa -‘ This was really getting ridiculous and I could see it had to be nipped in the bud before this whole Greg Champion thing started coming between us. ‘Clarissa, I don’t even know Greg Champion. We spoke for about 90 seconds after one of his shows. If he were sitting right here at this table I shouldn’t think he would recognise me. I’m sure if he wanted to develop a relationship with a dressmaker’s dummy you’d be the one. But does he? Personally I doubt it.’
We were both quiet as we contemplated the possibility for a bit. ‘And even if he did, what about your work at NASA? What about Neil? And Fevola?’ I still didn’t believe she’d dropped him altogether. In fact she looked rather shifty as I mentioned him. ‘How on earth can you manage all that at once?’
I finished off my G&T. ‘Look, Clarissa, I’ve decided there is only one way to settle this. I’ve set up an email address for you and I’m letting Greg know about it. Either he emails you or he doesn’t. Just don’t blame me if the outcome isn’t what you wanted.’ She looked SO excited, I started feeling bad as I’m sure no good is going to come of this. Still….’Now write this down:
and -‘ Just then her phone rang. Some problem at NASA. Is the red button for on or off? Nobody can ever remember…I left her to it as I took our empty glasses inside.