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Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter One
  5. Chapter Two
  6. Chapter Three
  7. Chapter Four
  8. Chapter Five
  9. Chapter Six
  10. Chapter Seven
  11. Chapter Eight
  12. Chapter Nine
  13. Chapter Ten
  14. Chapter Eleven
  15. Chapter Twelve
  16. Chapter Thirteen
  17. Chapter Fourteen
  18. Chapter Fifteen
  19. Chapter Sixteen
  20. Chapter Seventeen
  21. Chapter Eighteen
  22. Chapter Nineteen
  23. Chapter Twenty
  24. Chapter Twenty-One
  25. Chapter Twenty-Two
  26. Chapter Twenty-Three
  27. Chapter Twenty-Four
  28. Chapter Twenty-Five
  29. Chapter Twenty-Six
  30. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  31. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  32. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  33. Chapter Thirty
  34. Chapter Thirty-One
  35. Chapter Thirty-Two
  36. Chapter Thirty-Three
  37. Chapter Thirty-Four
  38. Chapter Thirty-Five
  39. Chapter Thirty-Six
  40. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  41. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  42. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  43. Chapter Forty
  44. Chapter Forty-One
  45. Chapter Forty-Two
  46. Chapter Forty-Three
  47. Chapter Forty-Four
  48. Chapter Forty-Five
  49. Chapter Forty-Six
  50. Chapter Forty-Seven
  51. Chapter Forty-Eight
  52. Chapter Forty-Nine
  53. Chapter Fifty
  54. Chapter Fifty-One
  55. Chapter Fifty-Two
  56. Chapter Fifty-Three
  57. Chapter Fifty-Four
  58. Chapter Fifty-Five
  59. Chapter Fifty-Six
  60. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  61. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  62. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  63. Epilogue
  64. Acknowledgements

In the office, Harri seemed frighteningly distant and distracted. What does she know? Does she know? She went out for a long meeting with Akila, and they both came back looking stressed and sad. I’m certain that they must have been discussing me, and how they will formally fire me. The fact that she hasn’t shouted at me yet makes me think that she’s already made her decision. I’m gone. She just has to get around to telling me.

Still, I’ve been watching Tabitha intently, obsessively—as though I can prevent her from having any interaction with Harri, simply by being in the room. Friday was awful—my palms are still stinging, because I dug my nails into them every time Tabitha got up from her desk. And I didn’t dare leave to go to the loo, unless Tabitha did too. Which was not the best way to ingratiate myself with her.

My worries have a weight and a roundness, I’m sliding them up and down an invisible string, searching for solutions. Could I afford to rent a bedsit in some distant town, and get a job in a supermarket? I remember a news story I read, just before Christmas, about how nearly three thousand people had applied for twenty casual, seasonal staff roles in Morrisons. And if I stay in London…well. What would be the point?

I’m trapped. If I’m fired, I can keep looking for bar work, and factory work, and do as many minimum wage jobs as I can find, to just about manage to pay the rent on this horrible room. And I can try to find another job on a magazine, but I’d be competing with three thousand Tabithas and Louises—and that’s assuming that my mistake stays secret, and I don’t get on an industry-wide blacklist. Maybe…PR? Every PR I’ve ever met has told me that they desperately wanted to work for a magazine, but got utterly fed up of being treated like shit, and earning no money. But even those women all seem to be West London girls who went to school with each other.

Who is stupid enough to get themselves fired from their dream job?

Funny dream, though. Being stressed, anxious and frightened all the time. Dreams aren’t supposed to cause chest pains. Dreams shouldn’t make you sick.