"Hey Kimberley," Cheryl smiled as she opened the door to me. I smiled back.
"Hey babe," I said. It was the first time I had called her that... it felt wrong. "I've made lunch." She smiled at me.
"I'll be there in a minute."
I nodded. "I'll leave the door open for you."
I made my way back into the flat. Once their I stirred the pasta I was cooking and then dished it out onto plates. Hearing Cheryl's door being closed, I quickly hit record on my small recorder and sat it beside the fridge, out of sight. I was sure I wouldn't get any information, not just yet. But I wanted to make sure I didn't miss a single thing.
"Hey," I looked up to see Cheryl. She had changed from the pj's she had had on into a tracksuit.
"I hope you like chicken pasta?" I smiled, placing the plates onto the table. "What would you like to drink?"
"What are you havin'?" she asked.
"Fanta." I laughed. Nothing too special.
"I'll have the same then," she replied, making her way over and sitting down infront of one of the plates.
Grabbing two glasses, I filled them both with ice before pulling the bottle of fanta out of the fridge and filling them up. I then placed two staws in them and walked over to the table. "Here you go," I smiled, placing one down infront of her.
"Thanks," she said, a smile on her lips.
"Dig in." Sitting down opposite her, I began to eat my own food. She done the same.
"This is really nice," she complimented, covering her mouth with her hand. She's classy too. She eats with her mouth full.
"It's my speciality," I winked. Cooking was something I liked doing. It never failed to relax me... it's very therapeutic. She smiled up at me before looking back down to her plate. The girl could really eat!
"So..." I started, taking a sip of my fanta. "I watched X Factor last night. I'm glad them two idiot twins got put out!"
"Aww god! Me two," she giggled. "They were so annoying. I don't know what Louis hoped to achieve with them two."
"Hmm... he's Irish... their Irish. I think I knew what he was aiming for." She continued to laugh as she brought a piece of chicken to her lips.
"Typical Louis. Anyway, enough about him. Tell me about yourself Kimberley. Your age? What do you work as? Where you're from? I noticed your accent." She seemed generally interested.
"Well... My names Kimberley Walsh." I saw her face flash with confusion. Sh*t!
"I recognise that name." she frowned. "Do I know you?"
"Not that I know of. I think I would know if a famous person knew me," I laughed nervously. This seemed to ease her suspicions a little.
"I'm 28," I continued, trying to change the subject. F*ck! I can't tell her I'm a journalist. Think Kimberley think! "I'm a PA for a successful businessman, but he's ill at the moment, so I don't have work until he's better." Good one Kimberley! She's goin' to suspect something now after that sh*tty lie!
"Awk... I hope he get's well soon," she smiled, sadly. She seemed to have bought it. "And where abouts are you from?"
"I'm from Bradford. I moved to London six years ago."
"Do you like London?
"It's ok. I do miss home a lot though. In London you have to either drive or get the tube everywhere, that's something I hate. I miss not being able to walk somewhere and be there within ten minutes, ya know? In London eveything's a hassle and a rush." She nodded in agreement, while taking a sip of her drink.
