As Todd was about to reply, Simi’s boss rounded the corner.

‘Look, I’ve told you, we have a franking machine!’ Simi yapped in Todd’s confused face.

Paul hovered for a second. He looked Todd up and down as though trying to sniff out any personal connection. Finally satisfied he nodded a good night to Simi and headed for the exit. Simi listened as the heavy door clicked shut then collapsed onto her desk.

‘You okay?’ asked Todd.

‘Fine thanks,’ she wheezed. ‘Just resting my face.’

Chapter 32

Jemima

Jemima slipped the to-go cup from her morning coffee run with Simi into the recycling. In her heart, she had hoped Chance might have materialised at Nostromo but perhaps it was best he hadn’t. What with the book and the game, life already felt like a tangled web without him and Simi crossing paths. And LA was yet another thread in Jemima’s ball of confusion. She’d been playing email ping pong with Rebecca for several days, teasing herself with the prospect of a clean break. Though she hadn’t made her final decision, it was feeling more and more real. The knots of Jemima’s confused life were becoming tighter. The one good thing was, if LA was her only escape from the mess she’d created, it meant her conversations with Miles couldn’t make things any worse.

By finally taking his call, her longing for a connection with someone had opened a door and Miles had amiably strolled right through. The first time they spoke, Jemima had let him carry the conversation, absolving herself of responsibility. She listened, remembering how much she liked his voice with its rogue northern vowels that occasionally pushed through his London accent. She shivered at what Meagan would say if she knew. Simi wouldn’t be too chuffed either, which is probably why Jemima had retreated to her room, under the guise of work, to speak to him. However, now four days and several conversations later she was not only responsible but culpable even. She scrolled though her recent calls and dialled his number. This was new. She was calling him. ‘Hey you,’ she said.

Definitely culpable. Definitely wrong.

‘Hey, gorgeous. How’s tricks? So, I was passing Nostromo. Don’t worry, I didn’t go in,’ he said, reassuring her. ‘How long have they had those airplane seats?’

‘A year? I like them – a lot,’ Jemima replied.

‘They look fun I suppose but you could get a whole table in that space. More cashola,’ said Miles.

Jemima’s ears pricked up as she heard Simi’s key in the front door.

‘Hiya, Jem!’ Simi called from the hallway.

She was back from work. Was it that late already? Jemima looked at her closed bedroom door praying Simi wouldn’t come in. ‘Hey, Sim.’

‘Fancy a glass of vino?’

Jemima hesitated. ‘Maybe later.’

‘Simi’s living with you? Blimey, I thought she was all over the place when we were together,’ said Miles.

Jemima glared at the phone willing herself to hang up. That’s what she should do. Tell him, ‘Good luck with everything,’ which was British for I have no intention of seeing how your life turns out, and ending the call but she didn’t.