‘No… but…’ said Simi.

‘You said he’s coming back at seven, right?’ Meagan said tapping her watch.

‘Yeah?’

‘Well, it’s already gone six!’

Simi’s eyes turned to saucers. ‘What?! Frig!’ she bawled, barging past Meagan and practically traversing the stairs on the balls of her feet. ‘What are you waiting for? We have to pack!’

Chapter 6

Meagan

Moments later Meagan’s slingbacks were clacking down Oscar’s wooden basement steps. At just over five foot one, flats were out of the question no matter the task at hand. Even when she broke her foot skiing, her compromise had been cork wedges. To Meagan, flat shoes were a reverse heel and looked brain-numbingly uncomfortable. She glanced over at Jemima’s Converse pumps. Of course she wore flats. Her primary concern was always a fast getaway.

All three of them looked around Oscar’s dark basement at the neatly piled boxes, old bike parts, unloved forgotten furniture and other crap people keep in the hope of one day needing again. Meagan folded up her sleeves and began lugging boxes upstairs. This was the third time they’d moved Simi out of a boyfriend’s flat and whilst she was well versed at handling the practicalities of Simi’s crises, inside she was beginning to fume. Why did women put themselves in this situation, moving into a guy’s place only to render themselves homeless when, inevitably, the shit hit the fan? It wasn’t that she was opposed to cohabiting – after all that was phase four of her life plan. It was the power imbalance that infuriated her. Even when Parker had teased a shared future, on this point Meagan had been clear – no one was moving in with anyone else. They would buy a new place together. In the end it had turned out to be academic. But at least she’d given it some thought. She was certain most of Simi’s issues lay in the fact that she didn’t have even a hint of a game plan. She was always either getting into something or coming out of it and in between, kissing an awful lot of frogs. Meagan glanced at the pathetic silhouette of her bereft friend, her chunky afro still sculpted into the shape of Meagan’s lap from the day before. She tensed. This was what her mother had been like when she’d separated from her dad. Meagan was determined, she would never let anyone have that kind of power over her.

‘Guys, come on,’ said Jemima clapping her hands. ‘We haven’t got long.’

She was right. They had to crack on. Meagan hoisted up another box of books. The quicker they sorted this the sooner everything could get back to normal. She wanted Jemima to get back to complaining about the injustices of the world, Todd to stop ruining good sex with his yammering and cuddles, and Simi to go back to being her normal, scatty, law-of-attraction loving self. She wanted her to be able to say Oscar’s name without hyperventilating but most importantly, she wanted her to go back to work – and soon – because the interesting thing that had popped up on Meagan’s phone yesterday very much involved Simi. Call it luck or fate but somehow Meagan had secured Simi an audition for IPC, a company who made some of the biggest shows on television. And if it weren’t for this bloody break-up, Meagan would be discussing that with Simi rather than heaving boxes of Deepak Chopra books up Oscar’s rickety basement stairs.