‘Shaheena, it’s me.’

‘Have I got some juicy goss—’

‘I’m not taking the deal or the adaptation. I’m not taking any of it,’ Jemima said interrupting her.

The other end of the phone fell silent.

‘Shaheena?’ Jemima said.

‘Shush. I’m thinking.’

Jemima waited, quietly surprised that contemplation was something Shaheena even did. Maybe she was weighing up whether to sue her as well.

‘This is about Meagan and Simi finding out they’re in the book?’ Shaheena asked.

‘Yes,’ Jemima said, as her misery surfaced all over again.

‘Have you actually heard from Meagan’s lawyer?’ Shaheena pressed.

‘No, but…’

‘No buts. She hasn’t got grounds, Jem,’ Shaheena interjected.

‘But…’

‘Do you name her?’

‘No.’

‘Does Beverly look like her?’

‘Well, no but—’

‘Ah, ah. No buts. So, the similarities are, what?’ Shaheena asked, almost triumphant.

‘Well, they both had a friend with benefits,’ explained Jemima.

‘Who hasn’t got a friend with benefits, or should have one, no names mentioned, Jemima Abeson?’

‘But…’

‘Jem, it’s coincidental. We don’t include that page one disclaimer for our health. It’s precisely to stop morons like Meagan doing this kind of thing,’ Shaheena said.

‘There’s a hell of a lot of coincidences,’ said Jemima, not daring to dream Shaheena might be right.

Certainly, in terms of characteristics, Beverly was now a fusion of all three of them with the fastidious, clinical aspects of Jemima, the forthrightness of Meagan and Simi’s vulnerability. No one person, not even Jemima could claim the character was solely based on them. Even Beverly’s romantic paralysis belonged to all three of them.

‘You’re a creative. You take inspiration from everywhere. I bet I’m in there somewhere!’ said Shaheena.

How ironic Shaheena wanted to be in the book while everyone else wanted out.

‘Yeah,’ Jemima lied.

‘I knew it, you little tinker,’ Shaheena giggled. ‘Look, Meagan’s got nothing, okay. So, no more talk of turning down book deals.’

Jemima leaned against her kitchen counter. Even if Meagan didn’t have a case, which would give her a professional reprieve, personally she was still in the doghouse, cowering in the canine cathedral and that was a much, much bigger deal.

‘Maybe,’ said Jemima taking a considered gulp of her coffee, ‘but I’m still going to LA.’

‘Man alive, Jemima. Why?’ Shaheena wailed.

Jemima massaged her neck, feeling drained. Suddenly she realised, for LA to truly be a new beginning, a chance to leave everything behind, that everything had to include Beverly. Taking her to LA would just be an agonising reminder of all Jemima had lost. A sorrowful gloom descended. She and Beverly had been on a journey that had started nearly fifteen years ago in Jemima’s imagination. She was as much a part of her world as any living, breathing human and now, just as Beverly was finding her stride, she was about to become another casualty of Jemima’s own selfish stupidity. She held the phone from her face as tears of bereavement fell.

‘You’ve lost your bloody marbles, darling,’ said Shaheena elbowing into Jemima’s pity party. ‘You can’t leave those girls. Not Beverly, Meagan or Simi. Meagan is clearly a workaholic lunatic. Without you, she’ll have no one. She’ll just work herself to exhaustion and that Simi definitely needs you.’