Paragraph upon Meagan-and-Parker-inspired paragraph flowed onto the page. Still on a roll, she then switched and began detailing Beverly’s college obsession. This was great material. As she wrote, an image of a young, insecure and deeply in love Simi jostled its way into her mind and her face fell. If Simi read this, she might feel humiliated all over again. Jemima hit delete. That story would never go in the book and if she used other stories, it had to be with the girl’s go-ahead. Her attempt to broach the subject at the gelateria had been seriously hampered by Simi faceplanting into that woman’s lap. Nonetheless, Jemima had to ask and soon. The girls loved her and wouldn’t want her book to fail. She might have to do some convincing but she would get them onside in the end.

As she put away her laptop, her phone pinged. It was one in the morning. Either it was Meagan sending some wildly explicit GIF or… she peered at her phone and her smile waned. It was Miles.

You back?? Would love to buy u lunch Mx

Jemima tapped out a reply.

In LA. Sorry!

She flung her phone back onto the night stand, wishing she was in LA. The idea of an ocean separating her and Miles was a dream. As she wriggled under her duvet, she wondered, had she always opted for flight whenever her back was against the wall? Staring up at her ceiling, Jemima thought of all the ways her mother constantly tried to protect her from extremes of emotions. Her earliest memory was when she was just 5 years old. They were visiting her grandmother’s house and they passed a police cordon. A man had fallen from a fire escape. His body lay in the street covered by a grubby blanket as police took statements and onlookers gathered. A curious little girl with no knowledge of life and death, Jemima had wanted to look. However, the moment her mother had seen the flashing red and blue lights she’d covered Jemima’s eyes and led her on an extra twenty-minute walk around the block to reach their destination. Even when they were out of view of the fallen man, her mother had kept Jemima’s eyes closed, her feet barely touching the ground until they reached her grandmother’s doorstep. Jemima had always seen her flight instincts as moving towards something, not running away but now she wondered, were her LA fantasies really about a fresh start or was she just looking for the long way around – again?

Jemima pulled her mac collar up around her ears as she paced down the street. The sunshine was intrusively joyful for a head still woozy from a night of wine and gossip with Meagan. Her sole mission that morning: a decent coffee. She hadn’t been into Nostromo since her dousing from Chance and she was now literally craving an Azi latte. Half-awake and unshowered, she had decided to make her stealthy reconnaissance while it was still early and, hopefully, quiet.