Whoever it is, they’re probably not going away,’ Jemima said freeing herself from Miles and throwing on some clothes.

The thumping grew louder and more urgent. Jemima put a hand on the bedroom door knob but as she went to turn it, she heard Simi’s muffled voice in the corridor. Jemima pressed her ear to the cool wood and listened.

‘Where is she?’

It was Meagan. What was she doing here at what was technically still Saturday night in her world?

‘What’s going on?’ said Miles.

Jemima span round, all at once surrounded.

‘I know you’re in there!’ Meagan hollered.

Jemima listened at the door again. It sounded like Meagan was pacing but every step was accompanied by a loud thunk. Did she have a baseball bat?

Jemima gulped. Meagan knew.

‘Stay here,’ she hissed at Miles, ‘and whatever you hear, do not come out.’

‘You better get out here or I’m gonna kick that door in with my one good foot!’ Meagan screeched.

Jemima braced herself and opened the door, swiftly closing it behind her.

‘Oh, here’s Sleeping Beauty,’ Meagan cawed.

‘What’s going on? What happened?’ said Jemima pointing at Meagan’s trussed-up ankle.

Meagan leaned on her crutch, her normally flawless hair wet from the rain, her face as thunderous as the impending storm.

‘Never mind that. How’s about you tell us about your little book?’

Simi looked to Jemima. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Would you like to explain?’ said Meagan, one hand on her hip.

Jemima’s breath quickened. How had she found out? Against all odds Shaheena had kept her mouth shut at the party. In fact, everyone who knew Jemima’s dirty secret had been there that night and none had said a word. So how the hell did Meagan know?

‘Why don’t we go into the living room,’ said Jemima hopelessly attempting to deescalate.

‘Let’s talk here!’ Simi piped throwing a concerned glance towards the closed living-room door.

‘Fine by me. Let’s talk about how Agatha Christie here has been stealing stories for her book!’

‘You mean plagiarising?’ asked Simi.

Jemima could barely bring herself to look at Simi. Her innocence and confusion was crushing.

‘Come on, let’s have a cuppa,’ Jemima pleaded.

‘Urm, there’s something I should explain,’ said Simi as the living-room door opened.

All three girls turned to see… Chance.

‘I should probably—’ he said shuffling towards the door. ‘Hey, Meagan. Jemima.’

Jemima watched Chance edge between the three of them. The front door clicked shut behind him and her heart fell through the floor. This was awfulness squared. Her knees weak, she turned to Meagan and Simi.

‘Can we please just talk?’ She quivered, heading to the living room, praying they’d follow.

After an eon, Simi then Meagan clacked in behind her.

‘Jem, what’s going on?’ Simi asked. ‘What’s Meag talking about?’

Jemima steeled herself. There was still a slender chance they would understand.

‘Sit down and I’ll tell you everything…’ she said. ‘Tea?’

‘Fuck tea, Jemima. Fuck sitting down. Fuck listening to you try and wheedle out of this,’ blasted Meagan. ‘So here’s what’s up, Sim. Your girl Jemima has been using stories from our lives to finish her book. That’s why she wanted to play the stupid dating game. She didn’t want to meet anyone and she wasn’t bothered about you meeting anyone either. She just wanted intel.’