They’ve split up. Get home now.

And with just six words Jemima had cut short her LA trip and was heading back to London to be with her broken-hearted friend. Consoling Simi was a two-woman job and Jemima needed to get to her before Meagan started suggesting things like getting under someone to get over Oscar. Right now, Simi would barely be capable of getting out of bed, let alone into someone else’s. Jemima sat back and exhaled, noticing how shallow her breathing had become. She hated seeing her friend in pain and would cross a hundred time zones to take it away but Simi’s break-ups – and there had been many – always brought back everything she had gone through with Miles. The girls sometimes teased her about her compartmentalised life. From her chronically tidy flat to the meticulously organised apps on her phone, Jemima had everything in its place. Even her love life had its own special spot, a forgotten, dusty corner at the back of her mind. But it was what she needed for a peaceful life. Not letting anyone in again was not weakness; it was Jemima’s defence against suffering as Simi was now or how she had with Miles. Jemima suddenly flashed back to hiding from Miles in that stinky privet hedge and her breathing shortened again. All at once, life didn’t feel compartmentalised but like a maze and she was a lab rat scurrying back and forth trying to escape. Jemima clamped hold of her arm rests, searching the cabin for the exits, only calming once she’d spotted the glowing green sign behind her. The grip of panic, as always, had been swift. The impulse to bolt painfully familiar, her one and only answer – always.

‘Postscript,’ said Susan, appearing behind her. ‘If you do decide to relocate and you want something fun to do, Bradley said the Latter Days are always looking for more members. The LA chapter is super small, like, tiny.’

Susan moved off again, closing overhead bins as she went. The thing was, Jemima mused as she buckled her seatbelt, if she joined she too might get shipped out as a missionary to Vanuatu where there absolutely, definitely was no Miles. Exposure to four strains of malaria was a small price to pay for that.

Chapter 2

Meagan

Meagan snatched up the book of wallpaper samples, barely taking in one design before snapping to the next. Too flowery, too many patterns, too Liberal Democrats! She flung the swatches across the bed and flicked though the carpet samples instead. They were even worse.

‘Too pub-carpet, too corporate, too refurbished-council-building. No, no, NO.’

‘Trouble in paradise,’ Todd murmured into his pillow.

‘Sleep,’ said Meagan, brushing her hand over his face.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ said Todd as he snuggled closer.

Meagan rolled her eyes.

‘60 Minute Makeover has a lot to answer for,’ she scowled. ‘They make it look like a refurb can be knocked out in an afternoon.’

‘Maybe I can—’ Todd began.