She upended the bag onto the pew. Its contents went everywhere, scattering in the darkness. A few coins rolled out, but nothing else. No purse, no paper money, and her ring and necklace were gone.
Well, she was now, as 2023 her would say, Proper Fucked.
Chapter 47
2024
Hetty adjusted her dress. It was a little tight around the bosom, but when she looked up she caught Stella peeking at her decolletage and didn’t mind one bit. She just smiled right back.
‘Stop staring at each other’s tits. God,’ Elliot said. He palmed his face, exasperated, as Stella and Hetty wiggled eyebrows at each other.
They each had a wine glass in front of them, because this first one was bound to be a little difficult, right? It had been such a very long week and the wine was so very good.
Hetty grinned at Stella, her very favourite person in the world, and everything felt exactly right.
Stella shone at the camera, ignoring her brother.
‘Welcome to Two Fancy Ladies. I’m Stella, and this is Hetty. Hetty, what are you?’
Hetty laughed. ‘A Lady of Distinction, born in Regency England.’
‘Right Outta Regency. Must be nice, you’d think, but takes some adapting to get your head around 2024, doesn’t it, Hetts?’
‘Cheers to that, my love.’ Hetty clinked glasses, registering Stella’s blink of surprise before swiftly revisiting her words. Oops. ‘Um … In for a penny, in for a pound?’
Stella was staring at her, the edge of a smile playing on her lips. Beautiful, Hetty thought. So beautiful. She took a large gulp of wine.
Elliot coughed. ‘The first comment, sis?’
Stella snapped her fingers, as though waking herself up. They were slightly drunk, to be fair. Even Stella had been pretty nervous about this, since the success of Hetty’s Substack and linked Instagram account had meant any kind of live video was bound to have a pretty large audience.
‘And that’s our producer, my baby brother Elliot, isn’t it,my love. Say hi, Elliot.’ Stella grinned, her foot nudging Hetty’s under the table.
Hetty’s heart soared as Elliot grumbled off-camera.
‘Let’s kick off. The most common question on your Instagram, Hetts, is about the bogs. Where did you go Number Two in 1817?’
‘Number Two? What’s that?’
Stella grinned and told her.
Hetty’s reaction – a fine mist of red wine right into the camera – was a meme before Elliot had finished wiping the tripod down.
Stella grabbed Hetty’s hand and pulled her away from her latest newsletter and over to the sofa. ‘Come away, Hetty. I’ve got something to show you.’
Hetty looked at the phone Stella handed her in confusion. ‘It’s our video. I thought – you’d already shown me this, no?’
Stella pointed to a little number on one side of the screen.
‘Two M? What does two M mean?’ Hetty asked.
‘Two million, Hetty. It means twomillion.’
Stunned, Hetty sat back in what was most definitely the least ladylike position she’d adopted in her life. ‘Do you mean to tell me, Stella, thattwo million peoplehave watched our videos?’
She looked over at Stella, whose grin seemed to soak up the whole room. ‘No, they liked it. That’s just the number of people who liked that single video.’
‘How many people didn’t like it, then?’
