Jemima put in her other earring and as she looked at her reflection, she became aware of how tense her body was. Her shoulders were rigid and her jaw tight. She shook a little, trying to loosen up but an unease remained in her stomach. That afternoon, she’d frantically briefed Shaheena to keep quiet about the book or better yet, avoid the girls altogether at the party, but a free bar and loose lips were a terrible combination. There was nothing Jemima could do but hope. She stared at her closed door realising she was stalling. In here she was safe but out there was her proverbial dead body by the fire escape – there was Simi and Meagan, Miles, the dating game, Hudson Hicks, her book, everything. She sighed gloomily knowing that, with one email to Rebecca saying ‘yes’ it could all go away and yet she still hadn’t been able to do it and there were only two reasons why – Simi and Meagan. Life without them didn’t feel like any kind of life at all. Jemima took a moment then finally went through to the lounge. There, Simi was made-up, dressed-up and ready to go. She looked stunning, regal almost.

‘Ready?’ Simi beamed.

‘Ready.’ Jemima nodded taking another breath to still the turmoil within.

Jemima walked down the long, pink, corrugated tunnel into the venue, eyeing her surroundings.

‘The decor is always so brilliant,’ yelped Simi as they followed the other guests inside.

‘Drink, madam?’ said a waiter, thrusting Bloody Marys in their hands and ushering them towards the main room.

Simi gawped at the elaborate design. ‘This must have cost a fortune!’

Jemima nodded as she peered around her. She’d been to this venue before, a Grade II listed music hall. But tonight, its shabby Aldgate chic and peeling walls were hidden behind sheer pink drapes in all directions. Jemima noted the elongated cerise and red lilies between each drape and the tiny cherubs peeping through. Every year, the party was themed as a cryptic homage to one of their authors but Jemima was at a loss as to who this one could be.

‘Please tell me you’re this year’s author?’ Simi asked, taking another drink from a passing tray.

‘It’s definitely not me,’ Jemima scoffed, doubting she’d ever be that in favour with Hudson Hicks.

‘Next year, one hundred per cent,’ said Simi inspecting a tray of canapes. ‘Yikes. Mini fish and chips!’

Jemima studied the drapes and flowers again. Now she was curious. What was the theme? After a moment, she scanned the room. Meagan had said she was coming straight from work but Jemima still hadn’t spotted her.

‘Have you spoken to Meagan?’ she asked Simi.

Simi shook her head, her mood clouding.

‘Are you going to?’

Simi shrugged.

‘Simi? She’ll be here any minute and I have to go and press the flesh,’ Jemima said.

‘Fine. I’ll speak to her – for you,’ conceded Simi.

‘No, Simi. Speak to her for you. Look, Meagan elbows, knees and barges her way in to every situation regardless of whether she’s needed or not but she’s not doing it to hurt anyone. It’s how she shows her love.’