Barter
“Look at 'er.”
Angie tilted her head toward the cardboard cut-out in the window on
Strand
and Masons. “What I wouldn't give to have her life.”
“What I wouldn't give
to have her figure.” Chloe licked the last of the chocolate from
the KitKat wrapper and looked for a bin to drop it in. It the absence
of a suitable receptacle, she twisted the plastic into a strip and
knotted it, holding it casually on the inside of her second and third
fingers until she was close enough to a woman with laden bags from
Redman's supermarket, then dropped it casually among her vegetables.
“I know what you
mean.” Angela twisted to look at her own bum.
“What you on about?”
Chloe couldn't look at her own bum with a pair of mirrors. “You're
even thinner than she is.”
“I'm still young
though. She's old. Twenty-five at least.”
“That's not old. My
brother's older than that and he's still a prat.”
“Yeah. Dishy,
though.” Angela pushed open the door. “You coming?”
“Nah.” Chloe had a
general disagreement with the policies of Strand and Mason's. She'd
rather buy clothes that fitted more than one of her legs. “I'll
wait out here.”
“What would you give
to be her size?”
Chloe jumped at the
voice and turned, her heart hammering. She hadn't even heard the
bloke walk up, and it was a cobbled street. “You what?”
“Would your give your
right arm?”
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