Here, one of my fave Libby-related bits, which comes just after Georgie has snogged Dave-the-Laugh while at Robbie-the-Sex-God's concert:
sunday november 7thFabuloso. (The references to red-bottomosity have to do with an extended metaphor comparing the mating rituals of baboons to Georgie's sudden desireability.)
The phone rang. libby answered it. "Heggo? Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes, listen."
I could hear her singing her version of "Dancing Queen," and there was a sort of banging noise as well--she would be doing the accompanying dance. God help the poor sod who was on the other end of the phone.
"Dancing bean . . . dancing bean . . . feel the touch of my tangerine . . . ine . . ."
It was so loud that even Mutti was forced to get up to try to shut her up. She said, "Libby, let Mummy talk." There was the sound of a struggle and spitting and then I heard Mum say, "Hello? Oh yes, well hang on. I'll see if she's up." She shouted up the stairs, "Georgia, it's Robbie for you."
I shot out of bed and downstairs. Checking in the mirror to make sure I didn't have idiot hair. Although that meant the Sex God would have X-ray vision if he could see down the telephone. Perhaps he did have extrasensory whatsit and he would sense my red-bottomosity. Oh God. The Sex God!!! As she handed over the phone Mum winked at me. Shutupshutup winking.
I tried not to sound like a scarlet minx. I wanted to achieve casualosity with a hint of maturiosity. With no suggestion of red-bottomosity.