Page 102 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

Even in the heat of the midday sun, she felt a twist of anxiety.

Still, there was no point putting it off any longer, she had to face up to things.

First up, Ainsley the farmer. She called, but he didn’t answer, so she left him a message apologizing for not replying sooner and telling him she’d be home in a few days.

‘Sorry you’ve had to deal with all this, Ainsley. I know you were doing a favour for Charlie. I can’t thank you enough, but I’ll be gone by the weekend.’

Where she was going to go, she still had no idea yet, but somehow it didn’t feel as scary. Coming here, being on this trip, she’d found inner strengths. If she could do this, she could do anything. She knew she’d be OK. That was the power of worst-case scenarios – if you could survive the worst thing happening, you could survive anything.

Next, she emailed the council back, promising to move the caravan by the due date on the enforcement notice. She didn’t bother to explain she’d been made homeless, that she’d had nowhere to go, that you can fall in love with the wrong person or make a bad decision and your life can collapse like a house of cards. She was sure the person in the planning department didn’t want to hear all that. Or that by being on this trip she’d discovered that home wasn’t about four walls, or a structure, it was about a place within.

Finally, she WhatsApped George.

Hey, sorry I haven’t been in touch.

A lot’s been going on.

I’m still away. It’s a long story.

I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.

Immediately the ticks went blue and seconds later he was trying to video-call her. She pressed accept and his face appeared on the screen.

‘Don’t think you can fob me off with a text like that!’ he snorted. ‘What’s going on? When are you back?’

That’s how it was with her and George – no need for the usual pleasantries, they just dived straight in.

‘Not sure yet. Probably a couple of days.’

‘Stop avoiding it.’

‘Avoiding what?’ Maggie tried to play dumb. She didn’t want to tell George who she was meeting later, but neither did she want to lie to him. ‘There’s not much to tell. We haven’t caught up with Him yet.’ OK, not strictly a lie.

‘I’m not talking about The Wanker; I’m talking about your birthday.’

‘Oh. That.’ Maggie had been trying to forget about it.

‘Where are you going to be?

‘Um, I’m not sure. Everything’s a bit up in the air. We were supposed to be heading to Ibiza tomorrow and after that, taking the ferry to Valencia—’

‘OK, I’m coming to meet you.’ George didn’t let her finish.

‘What? No! That’s crazy!’

‘Do you think I’m going to let my best friend celebrate her big birthday without my fabulous self being there?’

‘George, no, I want to ignore it. Pretend like it’s not happening.’

‘Bollocks.’

‘I’m serious. What have I got to celebrate? I’m turning fifty and my business has gone bust, I’m living in a caravan from which I’m being evicted, and the man I thought I was going to marry turned out to be a con artist and stole all my money. I’m a mess.’

‘A hot mess,’ he corrected, grinning.

‘George, I’m being serious.’

‘So am I. Fuck all that shit. You’re still standing, aren’t you?’