‘I love you.’

‘Yes, but, Peter, you don’t count.’

CHAPTER 2

I wake up the next morning and feel absolutely horrendous. I swear I can feel my brain physically banging against my skull. I can’t even do a full body assessment of how I feel because it hurts too much to think that hard.

I look at my phone, which I magically remembered to plug in to charge when I rolled into my hotel room early this morning.

I have one update – a text from Mum.

Bea, Happy New Year my darling! Let me know you’re alive when you have a moment. I hope the wedding went well. Please send my love to Mia. xoxo

Typing out my reply takes longer than it should, but Mum will worry if I don’t message her back.

Happy New Year, Mum. The wedding was great, but I’ve felt better. I hope you had fun last night? Sorry I wasn’t there. I love you loads. xx

I check the time before I put my phone down.

I only have half an hour before I’m required to be downstairs for breakfast and, working back, I need another four hours to get ready. An extra four hours would give me just enough time to have a salty snack, rehydrate, shower, nap, and then wake up with renewed vigour before getting dressed and applying some make-up to hide my face.

But, alas, I do not have an extra four hours, so with an overly dramatic groan I push the covers back and get ready to crawl out of bed, hoping that I won’t feel as bad as I fear I will when I eventually stand up.

My hopes are quickly dashed. I stand up and feel worse.

When I manage to reach the bathroom, I am met with an unfortunate sight. I look dreadful. At least the part of my face I can see looks dreadful; half of it is obstructed by the message I left myself on the mirror last night when I still felt like a superhuman, as opposed to the squashed, bruised banana of a human that I currently resemble.

DATE.

I have no idea how I’m going to get that off the mirror. It would be a simple task if my limbs and brain were still able to understand each other. Maybe I should leave it up there for the next occupants? I’ve written it quite well – the ‘D’ is particularly pretty, and I am impressed with how neat the handwriting is overall, especially as I wrote it in lipstick. A lipstick that I can see I totally destroyed in the process. I can’t fathom the energy to be overly upset about this. Besides, I always have issues wearing red lipstick. It looks quite good on me, but only until I eat or drink or talk or breathe, and then I get that extra lip below my actual lip that adults should be able to avoid.

I sit on the loo, hoping the stability of the seat will help stop the slight spin.