The gigs were the highlight of my life only a month earlier. I prattled on ad nauseam about them. The girls risked exceeding their monthly text allowances with squealing messages of support. Fast forward. It was September and I’d just answered Kat’s perfunctory question (How’re the gigs going?) with ‘fine’. I wondered whether real stars became blasé about their successes. I couldn’t imagine it. I doubted that Rihanna pitched her Grammy in the cupboard, shrugged and said her career was ‘fine’. I wasn’t actually blasé myself, just conscious that constant repetition of minute detail would cause my friends to want to strangle me. So I was outwardly calm. Inside I still fizzed at the thought of being paid regularly to sing. ‘Good, that’s good,’ Kat said, distracted by the three-course meal she was single-handedly concocting. I loved Kat’s kitchen. It was cosy and built with families in mind, with half a dozen chairs set around the island where she worked. The seating arrangement and proximity to snacks on every surface made it the perfect place to host a girls’ night.
What do You think about Bella Summer Takes A Chance?
