‘It won’t,’ I promised. ‘I swear, it all stays with me. Sarah, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left The Songbird, it’s all my fault.’

‘You’re not the first assistant she’s out-manoeuvred and you won’t be the last, but I do hope your replacement lasts longer than forty-eight hours, whoever the poor soul might be.’

There it was. For the first time in my life, I had been officially fired.

To Sarah, I was just one more disappointment in a long line of failures, but to me, this was oh-so new and oh-so shit. I squeezed my eyes tightly together and two more tears appeared, racing each other to see which could reach the ground the fastest. Perhaps Stew and his mum and his sister were right. Maybe I’d make a good teacher. The fact I had zero interest in the profession and a pathological fear of children might work in my favour. At least half my teachers clearly despised kids and I’d turned out OK.

‘Call me when you’re back on The Songbird,’ Sarah said. ‘Until then stay in your room, stay out of trouble, and don’t speak to anyone.’

She ended the call without waiting for confirmation, leaving me alone on the floor where I belonged. Reaching down and around, I peeled off my other sock, then my still wet jeans, my formerly white T-shirt, my bra and my pants, tossing them all into a pile across the room. Just like Natalie Imbruglia in Jess’s favourite karaoke song, I was cold and I was shamed, lying naked on the floor.

‘You need a shower,’ I told myself. ‘You stink.’

But for whatever reason, I just couldn’t find the energy to move.

My mother always used to say ‘what you don’t know can’t hurt you’ and in that moment, I couldn’t think of a more accurate statement. I knew Stew had spent Friday night with Bryony, I knew my supposed new friend had abandoned me on Panarea, and I knew I wasn’t half the assistant I thought I was. All three of those things stung like a motherfucker and I would have happily given up the knowledge if that was an option.

What was it Jess had told me? Don’t wait for something to happen, make it happen. Well, fat lot of good that had done me. If I hadn’t called Rose, I could be merrily handing out treats to Sheffield’s goodest boys and girls at the vets in Brincliffe instead of being assaulted by devious Italian shop cats. This was what happened when I opened the door and poked my head outside the room. I’d ruined everything.

‘Everything is such a mess,’ I whispered to the ceiling. ‘I just wish there was someone to tell me what to do.’

And at precisely that moment, the doorbell rang.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN