‘That’s very kind of you but—’ began Jemima.

‘She’d love to go.’ Azi beamed at the two of them.

Jemima stared back at her. What the actual hell?

‘Jem, I haven’t seen you writing for days. This will be good for you,’ said Azi glaring at Jemima, whose toes were curling into a foot fist.

‘Okay. Great,’ she mumbled at last.

‘Good!’ said Azi, slapping the counter and disappearing into the backroom.

Chance turned to Jemima, laughing. ‘So, meet you there at seven?’

‘Yes! Seven’s great!’ hollered Azi before Jemima could reconsider, renege or runaway.

‘Great,’ said Chance.

Jemima nodded, tight lipped. ‘Yup. Great!’

‘You’re welcome, guys! You’re so very welcome,’ said Azi.

Chapter 17

Simi

Simi took in her surroundings, bewildered yet intrigued. Instead of Jemima’s swanky pick, Ripley’s, where they’d made their first attempt at the game the week before, tonight they were in Bar Dodgem – chosen by Meagan. Simi looked around the rough-and-ready Shoreditch basement bar, still trying to make sense of its strange, fairground vibe. Unlike Ripley’s, there were no waiters in pointless half-aprons, no fancy wine lists or flickering tealights. The venue was awash with a murky, pink glow and the staff were so hipstery, the whole place smelt of beard oil. But the weirdest thing was the seating: painted rocking horses. Simi looked over at Jemima who was still trying to calibrate the canter of her bright green steed. At least she was finally on a horse. Initially she’d refused, instead leaning against it like an angry jockey. Meanwhile, beside them, Meagan was at full gallop having a heated call with one of her contractors. Simi’s impatience grew. This was their first proper attempt at the game since her skateboarding calamity. Instead of watching Meagan verbally dismantle her builder, she wanted to get started. She needed to purge memories of Oscar and his deception and feel love, real love because life without it felt – horrible. Just then she noticed Jemima lean over to hand her a tissue. She was crying again, and she’d thought she was doing so well.

‘Thanks, Jem,’ she said choking down the sadness.

‘Don’t be hard on yourself. It hasn’t even been a fortnight.’

Simi gripped her hand, its warmth filling her up from her hand to her heart. She looked over at Meagan who had missed her mini-meltdown.

‘Glenn, if you don’t finish the partitioning this week I’m gonna chew your balls like I’m on a I’m a Celeb bushtucker trial!’ Meagan blared, forcefully rocking her horse back and forth.

Simi took a sip of her cocktail pretending not to listen. Poor Glenn. He was finding out the hard way, you don’t let Meagan down. She held everyone to such high standards but often you only found out you had fallen short when you got the tongue lashing of your life. And though Meagan seemed oblivious, Simi knew, like the plan, it had all started with Parker. Meagan was so young when she met him, just 18. The whole thing had been so messy that when Parker told Meagan he was leaving his wife, Simi had actually been relieved. At least he was making a decision. But what was supposed to happen after a month, turned into six then a year until Meagan accepted it was never going to happen and ended it. Simi and Jemima had put their loving arms around her until the pain, at long last, released her. After though, Meagan was never the same. She never mentioned him. It was as though she’d airlifted him from her memories. The effect of him, however, lingered. Whenever there was even an inkling of being let down, this beast arose from within ready to tear off someone’s head – or more often, their balls. There was always a Glenn, some poor sap who had failed and found themselves torched by the flames of Meagan’s rage.