Back Careering Save as PDF
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

‘Tell you what,’ says Harri, sounding much friendlier now that she knows I can’t say no. ‘We’ll chat to Tabitha and call in something amazing for you to wear. I bet that if we reached out to some brands, they’d love to gift for this. She can style you! We can do a few videos for Stories, or something.’ Oh, no. I think I’d rather go on breakfast telly while wearing no clothes at all.

Chapter Twenty

ImTV

Imogen

I would say the day dawns, but it’s still dark when I’m standing outside the flat at 5.15 a.m., with two jumpers under my coat. I don’t want to risk the driver ringing the doorbell and waking up Downstairs Colin. I was seized by a strange urge to show off to Gemma and Emma about being on television, but it occurred to me that would definitely jinx things—the universe would punish me for being proud, and my slot would get cancelled and replaced by some actual news. Actually, I would really love that. Maybe I should have gone around bragging to everyone I know.

It’s been raining, and the streetlights are still on, their gleam reflected by the puddles and exploding off the wet pavement like fireworks. After a few clashes with Tabitha—mercifully I was able to talk her out of some stripy backless bodycon, on the grounds of possible strobing—she managed to come up with something not too terrible. I’m wearing high waisted, wide legged royal blue Mother of Pearl trousers, and a soft, pale grey jumper with just a hint of pink in the knit. Harri was diplomatic. ‘This is a styling challenge, because it’s all about messaging. I know you want to put Imogen in something really wild and cool, and I’m sure there will be time for that. But we’ve got a very clear objective here. She’s just a normal young woman. On TV, they’ll want her to come across like a mad slut, some kind of cautionary tale. She’s really not. She’s just every woman who has ever had a sexually confusing experience and wants to wear nice trousers.’

Looking at my phone, I wait for a message saying that the car is going to be late, or that it’s actually parked three streets away, but no, a clean, shiny, sober Mercedes is pulling up just as a text arrives to confirm the number plate. Before I can tuck and roll into the back, the driver is out, opening the door with a courteous ‘Good morning, Miss!’ He does not follow it up, as I fear he might, by squinting at my face and saying Aren’t you that whore from the internet?