By the end of her second week, Jemima had forgotten about crouching in pissy hedges and was instead noticing things like house prices and parking, details holidaymakers pay little mind to but people considering relocating did. She’d gasped at the thought. Could LA be more than just a getaway retreat? Her friend Rebecca was certainly surviving, in fact she was thriving. And Jemima wouldn’t have to wait for a job offer as Rebecca had. Because of her dual citizenship, she could move whenever she wanted, it was just a case of… what? Nothing. It was clear Miles wasn’t going anywhere but maybe she could. If she organised a short-term let of her place, she could be settled in LA by spring.

Of course, while her besties Meagan and Simi were on board with an LA vacay, getting them behind her emigrating would take a lot more convincing. They wouldn’t let her go without a fight and why would they? They’d been best friends for over a decade and were so entangled in each other’s worlds, it was hard to know where one began and the other ended. Jemima smiled to herself as she remembered the first time they met, a stand-up comedy course she had signed up for to help her writing. Quickly she learned stand-up was not her bag and the best thing hadn’t been learning The Rule of Three but finding, in Meagan and Simi, two great mates. At the time, Jemima remembered thinking, it shouldn’t have worked. There was her, a social hermit, aspiring actress Simi and 19-year-old gum-popping go-getter Meagan – an unlikely combination. But as they wrote Puns and Pull Back and Reveals, it became apparent they were laughing at each other’s material a lot more than anyone else – like, a lot more. Jemima chuckled as she recalled the first cracks appearing in Meagan’s steely exterior. She was a tough cookie who turned out to also be a funny and fiercely loyal firebrand. Then there was Simi who had a heart of gold that saw the best in everyone. Jemima couldn’t resist. On day one, the girls had shared a secret wink noticing almost everyone else on their course was a twenty-something lad in skinny jeans with an arsenal of jokes about their own penis. In those three months, Jemima learned thirty-eight euphemisms for masturbation but while new synonyms were handy, by far, her biggest take away had been her bond with Simi and Meagan in whom she found her left and her right arm. It was the girls who would piece her back together again after she and Miles broke up. Jemima who’d loan Simi thousands to support her acting, almost financially crippling herself. Simi and Jemima who’d comfort Meagan after her parents’ divorce. The girls with whom Jemima would celebrate her first book deal, and she and Meagan who’d listen to Simi analyse her procession of boyfriends who all went from being maybe The One, to definitely The One, to why wasn’t he The One? Poor Simi, Jemima sighed. She so wanted to be in love but every attempt ended in utter heartbreak and this weekend, it had happened again. To say Simi rushed into relationships was an understatement. Just days after getting together with city-working, cycling fanatic Oscar, Jemima had caught Simi practising her married name signature. A fortnight after, she and Meagan moved Simi into his Chiswick flat and now, just twelve months on, it was over. Jemima scrolled through her texts to Meagan’s last message: