Looking for Andrew McCarthy. Jenny Colgan

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Looking for Andrew McCarthy - Jenny  Colgan


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      JENNY COLGAN

      Looking for Andrew McCarthy

       Dedication

      This book is dedicated to the girls I first watched these films with, particularly Queen Margaret’s finest: Katrina McCormack, Karen Murphy and Alison Woodall. (I was going to include some Nightmare on Elm Street stuff, but I reckoned we’d get too frightened.)

       Epigraph

      The passion runs deep.

      Strapline, St Elmo’s Fire, 1985

      The laughter. The lovers. The friends. The fights.

      The talk. The hurt. The jealousy. The passion. The pressure.

      The real world.

      Strapline, Pretty in Pink, 1986

       Bernie’s back – and he’s still dead!

      Strapline, Weekend at Bernie’s II, 1993

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Epigraph

       Chapter 5: Footloose

       Chapter 6: Pretty in Pink

       Chapter 7: Say Anything

       Chapter 8: Planes, Trains & Automobiles

       Chapter 9: Dangerous Liaisons

       Chapter 10: Big

       Chapter 11: Licence to Drive

       Chapter 12: Adventures in Babysitting

       Chapter 13: The Lost Boys

       Chapter 14: Some Kind of Wonderful

       Epilogue

       Acknowledgements

       About the Author

       Praise

       Also by the Author

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

       Less Than Zero

      ‘HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!’

      Simple Minds. Ellie nudged it up with her foot, still concentrating on whitening up an extremely old pair of stilettos, and joined in with gusto.

      ‘Wooohhwoooahh!’

      The phone rang and she turned the music down reluctantly.

      ‘Hedgehog!’

      ‘Oh, hi Dad.’

      ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!’

      ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ Ellie tried to sound embarrassed, but was actually pleased.

      ‘Did you like your present then?’

      ‘Dad, it’s a beret.’

      ‘It’ll come in handy, though, won’t it? For skating?’

      Ellie hadn’t been skating with her father for sixteen years.

      ‘Uh, yeah.’

      ‘So, are you all set for tonight then?’

      Ellie looked around the room. One of the problems of having an eighties party, she mused, was not quite having the resources to rip out your entire flat and redesign it to look like the set of Dynasty. So she’d hung lots of old Brat Pack and Duran Duran posters on the wall, left lots of Jackie annuals lying about and bought a bunch of pink and black striped napkins. Later on, she was planning on spraying around some Anaïs Anaïs.

      ‘Hmm, pretty much,’ she said.

      ‘Is Julia coming?’

      Ellie raised her eyes to heaven. ‘Dad, she’s my best friend. Of course she’s coming.’

      ‘I bet she’ll look nice.’

      ‘Yes, well, I think it’s enough every male my own age I’ve ever known fancying Julia without you as well, okay?’

      She could hear her dad shrug over the phone.

      ‘She’s very pretty.’

      ‘Dad, you’ve know her since she was five. Stop being disgusting.’

      Ellie stared in the mirror next to the phone and squinted at herself, trying to see if she could get her hair to lie down simply by leaving her hand on it for a long time. Ellie didn’t quite fit into the ‘very pretty’ category. She might make ‘very perky’ on a good day, with her ridiculously curly hair, which went in every direction, snub nose, and generous sprinkling of freckles. At least her eyes were nearly black, usually with mischief.

      ‘Yes, well,’ he said, changing the subject. ‘Thirty, eh, darling? Leaving your wild, carefree youth behind you.’

      Ellie contemplated a much-loved picture of Limahl and wondered if her youth had been quite wild and carefree enough.

      ‘Ehm … something like that,’ she said, trying to manipulate sellotape, poster and phone at the same time. ‘I stole a traffic cone once. Anyway. What


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