‘Alice’s flatmate is on a theatre tour so I’ll stay there,’ said Simi sucking in her emotions.

‘Please, you don’t have to—’ Jemima said grabbing her arm.

Simi yanked herself away.

‘Yes, Jem. I do. I can’t bring Chance here now, can I? You’ll probably steal him too.’

Jemima’s stomach churned at Simi’s words. So, she and Chance were serious? She tried to catch Simi’s eye, searching for confirmation but Simi avoided her gaze, instead looping her bag strap over her head.

‘I’ll be back for the rest of my things,’ said Simi before taking one last look around and leaving.

Jemima stood, rooted to the spot. She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t shout, she couldn’t even be angry. Her pathetic desperation had ruined the one great thing in her life. Jemima fell to the floor as guttural sobs rocked her body. It was the end. As she throbbed with sadness, she felt a hand on her back. Miles scooped her up and pulled her to him, the warmth of his breath, soothing. He stroked her hair as her sobs ebbed and she slowly calmed.

‘It’s okay, Jem-Jem. Meagan won’t sue. She loves you. She’s just angry, as per,’ said Miles.

He rocked Jemima, and at last the sorrow which had enveloped her subsided.

‘You know what would make you feel better? Breakfast,’ he said brushing hair from her face.

Yes, that was exactly what Jemima needed. She was emotionally as well as physically hungover and a great, big, greasy fry-up would most certainly ease the pain.

‘That would be amazing,’ she said smiling up at Miles.

‘Good girl. Grab yourself some eggs and bacon. I’ve got a brunch thing to go to but, when I get back we can research my green card application. Best to start now because—’

‘You’re going out?’ Jemima said pulling away.

‘It’s just a thing,’ he said trying to haul her back into their hug.

Jemima broke free from his grasp.

‘Get out, Miles. Now,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Get out and don’t come back. Don’t call me. Don’t text. Don’t even think of me. Unfriend me on Facebook. Get out. We’re done.’

Miles hesitated, ‘Come on, sweetness.’

Jemima’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a vase Shaheena had given her as a moving-in present. She picked it up, tossing it from hand to hand.

‘Jem-Jem, you’re upset,’ said Miles.

‘Too right I am. Now get out!’ she said, pulling the vase back ready to launch it at his head.

Miles raised his hands and took a step forward. The vase whistled past him, shattering on the living-room wall. He turned to look at the fragments on the floor.

‘JEM-JEM!’

‘GET OUT!!’ she screamed as her gaze jerked around the room in search of more missiles.

She hurled a dirty plate. It span through the air like a flying saucer piloted by a drunk alien. Alarm pulsated across Miles’s face as he skidded into the hallway, one hand holding his towel the other slamming against the wall for balance.