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I took a breath. ‘Right.’

My mum held up a hand to my dad to signal that I should ignore him.

‘What’s happened?’ Concern was etched into her face.

I took a deep breath, feeling my bottom lip begin to tremble. I hadn’t said it out loud yet.

‘It’s Rupert,’ I started. ‘He, eh . . . he got caught with another woman.’ I bit down on my lip hard, trying to keep it all together, glancing at the worn dark orange carpet. ‘He didn’t realise I was filming, and the full thing went live on my Instagram. Everyone saw.’

I jumped at a loud clang, then realised my dad had dropped his cutlery onto his plate.

‘Oh no, hen!’ Mum was holding her face in shock again. She took a few steps back and flopped herself onto the couch.

‘I’ll fucking kill him, Harri! Where is he?!’ my dad yelled, his meaty hands curling into fists at his sides.

Mum stood up again. ‘Calm down, for fuck sake,’ she snapped. ‘You’re not twenty-five anymore.’ She noticed the shock in my face, ‘Ignore him, Harri. He couldn’t batter a fish if he fuckin’ tried!’

Dad shook his head. ‘Aw, c’mon! A fucking sneeze would flatten that wee cunt! What the fuck was he thinking?’

I sat down on the worn sofa that dipped in the middle and shrugged. I didn’t know what to say or how to feel. Complete exhaustion had settled into my bones.

‘I . . . I haven’t spoken to him. I saw the video and came straight here. I chucked my phone into the bin on the train.’ I let out a breath. ‘I just needed to get away from it all. I’m sorry for just showing up without calling . . .’

Tears began trickling down my face faster than I could catch them. I couldn’t believe I was back here. My perfect life was gone. And here I was, hiding in the Gorbals with no phone, no makeup, no change of clothes and no husband.

My dad stepped past his little wooden tray table and sat down beside me on the couch, taking a breath. I felt his heavy arm wrap around my shoulder, making me sink deeper into the cushions. ‘You don’t ever have to apologise for coming home,’ he said. ‘You’re here now, darling. Everything will be all right.’

Chapter Seven

I eventually escaped upstairs after listening to Mum and Dad talk over one another about how they planned to string Rupert up and feed him to Alfie, the Rottweiler across the street. Dad was fairly sure Alfie would ‘appreciate the protein’, while Mum firmly believed castration was the only punishment good enough for men like him.

The stairs creaked under my feet in exactly the same places they always had, like they were holding a grudge. I used to take them two at a time, late for school, hair half-brushed, face bright orange and toast hanging out of my gub. Now I climbed them slowly, dragging my feet.

I reached the top and pushed open my bedroom door. The air went out of me all at once.

Nothing had changed.

Pale lilac walls, cracked at the corners. My old Westlife posters still clinging on like they hadn’t realised the band had broken up – twice. My blue-nosed teddy bear sat in the centre of the bed, wearing the same stupid ‘best friend forever’ ribbon Lucy Williams had tied around his neck when she gave him to me, declaring our friendship. Awkward now, as I hadn’t spoken to her in over a decade, and truthfully, I’d probably not had a real friend since.

I sat down on the narrow single bed – knees practically touching the desk – and stared around the room. How was I back here? How had I gone from a five-bedroom townhouse with underfloor heating to a bedroom where the wardrobe door only opened if you lifted it slightly and prayed?

I kicked off my shoes and felt the thin, foundation-stained carpet under my feet – the ghosts of Rimmel makeup choices still haunting it. I lay back on the bed and stared at the Artex ceiling, crawling with dust, feeling exhausted but wired, my brain refusing to shut up.

Would Rupert call the police and file a missing person report? Or would he be relieved I’d disappeared – free to explain away my absence with some vague caption about ‘taking time offline’, to which he’d probably add a filtered photo of a candle to be more aesthetic. Prick. A small smirk crept onto my face as I pictured Penelope already leaking stress through every pore, her pale skin erupting in dramatic hives. I wanted the two of them to be shitting hedgehogs with the amount of backlash and drama they’d caused.

Anger prickled under my skin. How could they be so fucking stupid? Airing their affair on a live stream, like it was a scene from 365 Days. My blood boiled, and I sat up sharply.

I needed a plan.

Because, as much as this room smelled like safety – and, well, stew and onions – I couldn’t stay here forever. And I absolutely was not going to let Rupert get away with this. But I had no idea what my finances looked like. I was completely clueless about how anything really worked behind the scenes. He was the money guy. I had a card and bought whatever I liked, but I had no idea how much was in the bank or what was rightfully mine. Thinking about it made my stomach churn – and not just because of the money and my ignorance about it. I didn’t want to be on my own. I wasn’t ready. I loved my husband, but I also adored my fans. They were the people who saw me, who understood me. They looked up to my perfect life, aspired to it. And I couldn’t help but feel guilty about how they would feel, realising that in reality the vision I’d shown them was all a lie. Nausea hit the back of my throat, and I curled up onto my side.

I would hide out here in Scotland. Come up with a plan to sort all this shit out. Eventually, I’d get my life back. Get my channel back. Spend Christmas with my husband under the mistletoe, as planned by my M&S sponsorship deal. Yes.

A feeling of ease settled over me, and my eyes grew heavy. I was drifting in and out of sleep when I heard footsteps on the stairs as Mum and Dad made their way up to bed. Then, right outside my door, a huge blast straight out of my dad’s arse.

‘Jesus fuck, I wasn’t sure if I was gonna fart or shite there, Marge!’ He giggled like a schoolboy, as if he was hearing his own arse for the first time.

‘Jesus, Harry! With that smell, it’s a fucking shite you’re needing!’ she hollered back.