But then Simi’s mouth slackened as it dawned on her – perhaps that fundamental question was the root of the problem. Since her father’s absence, she’d been searching for someone to fill the gaping hole he left. However, in the hazy morning light, she finally saw that this space didn’t need to be filled. It needed to be healed. Rather than searching for a replacement, she needed to let her father go. She needed to forgive herself, reminding herself daily if she had to, that what happened was not her fault. That’s where her sense of completion lay. She had done nothing wrong and no relationship, no person could make her whole. That sense of completion could only come from within.

Simi blinked away tears and smiled. How had it taken 35 years to realise she could stand up for herself, make her own choices and she didn’t need a man. She was complete as she was. She looked over at her boxes, bags and suitcases in Jemima’s living room. It was time for change. Firstly, she would step aside and let Jemima and Chance figure out whatever was going on between them. She would make peace with Meagan and get her career on track. But this time, instead of waiting for an agent to fix her problems, she would take control. It had been ten years since their stand-up course. It was time to be brave and give it a try. A lot of her favourite actresses came from a comedy background. There was every chance it might open doors for Simi too.

And lastly, it was time to find a place of her own. She had to start navigating the world without depending on others. It would be hard but that was what it meant to be a grown-up, not a girl desperately seeking her daddy’s love. Even if she failed, it was time to try. As the sun peeked between the curtains, Simi could feel her new dawn rising, a second chance at a different way of living. She was going to embrace it with both hands. Happy tears trickled down her face.

Chapter 41

Jemima

Jemima prised her eyes open and looked over at Miles. He was sitting up in bed reading The Observer on his iPad, looking content, as though their two years apart had never happened.

‘Morning, sleepy head,’ he said, eyes still on his article.

Oh god, thought Jemima, murmuring a generic reply. She scanned the room like a scene-of-crime officer. Clothes strewn across the floor. Empty wine glasses. Tissue flowers on the bedside table. Nether regions that felt like a pounded chicken escalope. Yep. Sex had taken place. And though she would testify otherwise, the fact was, she had instigated it. She had made the phone call after that hellish brunch and like Bruce Wayne responding to the Bat-Signal, Miles had been over like a shot – that evening.

Jemima also couldn’t deny, however, that it had been what she needed, something familiar, distracting, disposable. But now, she wanted him to leave. Their night together was the coda to a series of awful decisions which needed to end with him dressed and out the door. Things were awkward enough without Simi bumping into him going for her morning pee. Jemima glowered as he took a leisurely sip of his coffee. Perhaps, she calculated, if she surfaced it would encourage him to do the same. She tried propping herself up but that made her head pound like the bass bin at a warehouse rave.