‘Thought so,’ said Simi as she placed a couple of notes on top of Meagan’s and left.

‘Simi,’ Jemima said but she was gone.

Jemima was numb and aware of only two things – the futile desire to run and the beating of her devastated heart. Was it shame she felt, hurt, guilt or an astringent cocktail of all three? She shook as she picked up her phone and dialled.

‘It’s me,’ she said, cupping her hand around the microphone, as much to block out the café noise as to conceal this dreadful deed.

‘Jem-Jem,’ said Miles.

She knew he was toxic but as with so many noxious substances, a little poison often brought pleasure. This would be the first and last time, a final fling before disappearing to Los Angeles. And before she departed, she would confess all to the girls then be out of their lives forever.

Chapter 39

Meagan

Meagan pulled her hair into a bun. After that chronic brunch with the girls earlier, she was glad to be on her own. She looked around Bar Dodgem before scribbling down her song choice.

‘I won’t need the words,’ she said, handing in her slip of paper.

Had Meagan known it was karaoke night, she would have gone elsewhere but now she was here, she was well up for belting out something vengeful. From the flyers scattered around, she quickly discovered that Bar Dodgem’s annual karaoke event was their one concession to cheesy naffness. As a result, the bar was actually busier than usual. It was filled with its usual hipster-types in ‘casual’ outfits that in fact were more curated than an exhibition at the Tate Modern. The rocking horses had been moved to the outer edges. The brightly coloured equine spectators now watched disinterestedly from the shadows over the main area which had become a mosh-pit-cum-dance floor. On stage, there were no crumby speakers, wobbly lyrics screens and cruise ship crooner comperes. This was karaoke, Bar Dodgem-style. There was a band and they were tight and well rehearsed. This was not their first rodeo. They’d already belted out several subverted covers. Rap tracks transformed into Eighties pop, reimagined as rock anthems. Meagan rubbed her hands together. This was how to celebrate her birthday, unencumbered and free. She would drink, sing and forget. Forget herself, Todd, Miles, Simi and Jemima. She would forget everything except one thing – relationships meant giving away a piece of your heart and it was never, ever worth it. Even if they didn’t mean to, people always trampled and destroyed your love. Jemima and Simi were just as bad as Parker, two more people who could not be trusted with her emotions. She’d always suspected life was easier as a solo pilot and these last few weeks had proved it.

‘Fuck ’em!’ she bellowed just as the band rounded out the final bars of the last song.

The crowd whooped as a bandanaed woman who’d sung the hell out of an Amy Winehouse track tiptoed off stage.