It was 6.30 a.m. and nothing usually disturbed my porridge eating, apart from Weirdo who would roll onto his back for a tummy tickle. She came clattering in, rustling about in the cupboards for something less healthy than a bran muffin. It was probably a bit rich for me to feel grumpy that she’d come into her own kitchen but I’d never been a morning person. We’d already discussed five hundred – or possibly five thousand – Lawrence scenarios the night before, ranging from him suddenly fancying men to sleeping with prostitutes to falling in love with a school friend he’d found on Facebook. Clover kept wanting reassurances from me that she was, above anyone else we could think of, the perfect match for Lawrence. The problem was I didn’t know enough about him to have a clue. If what you wanted from marriage was a huge-hearted, generous and funny human being then Clover was your girl, but if you were in the market for shiny skirting boards, polished shoes and an ability never to run out of kitchen roll, then she probably wasn’t.
What do You think about The School Gate Survival Guide?
