Page 29

‘Nice!’ Jamie nodded, then his bottom lip stuck out in a way that screamed incoming favour. ‘I was actually coming round to ask a wee thing, if I’m honest. My mam had a fall last night and—’

My mum gasped and clutched my arm.

‘She’s fine,’ Jamie added quickly. ‘Totally fine. Just a sprained ankle. But I’m short in the soup kitchen all week, and I thought, since you’re here, Harri, maybe you could—’

I snapped my head up from the stubbornly tangled lights. ‘Sorry, who?’

‘Oh, of course she will,’ Mum said, beaming. ‘Won’t you, hen? You can come with me again?’

I looked at my dad for help to get me out of this, trying to shake my eyeballs discreetly instead of my head.

‘You sure that’s cool, aye?’ Jamie said, grinning. ‘Gets you away from the tree for a bit.’

‘I actually love the tree,’ I lied. Well, sort of. I loved arranging the team of professional decorators for my own tree. I’d watch as they brought in brand-new decorations each year, with a Baileys in hand, filming it all for my followers. But this tree? And this arrangement? Not so much.

‘Aye, so you do!’ Dad laughed. ‘We couldn’t get you out of your room! She’s only left her bed for a piss or a shite all weekend!’

My mouth fell open. Was he really discussing my toilet habits in front of this man?

‘She’ll be there,’ he added. ‘Go get ready, Harri!’ Then he turned to Jamie. ‘I’ll drop them off once she’s dressed. She’s not been out of those pyjamas for three days either. I’m surprised they’ve not walked off her body and made it halfway down the fucking street by now.’

I whipped my head round, silently threatening murder.

Jamie stared very hard at the floor, his mouth twitching.

‘I wish he was joking,’ Mum added, lowering her voice into a tone of concern. ‘She’s not doing great just now, son.’

I raised my hands. ‘I’m literally right here.’ I puffed out a breath. ‘Right, shower. I take the hint.’ I left the living room, banging into the stack of boxes as I went, then stomped up the stairs.

‘Thank fuck for that,’ Dad’s voice boomed.

After a very begrudging shower, I opened my old teenage wardrobe, hoping to find some sort of cool vintage treasure I could spruce up. But no such luck. I shoved the hangers from left to right, deflated. My childhood wardrobe consisted mostly of bobbly leggings and two-striped trainers I used to pretend were Adidas by drawing the logo down the side. Turns out Sharpie branding doesn’t age well, I thought, as the cracks in the leather – well, plastic – crumbled onto my floor. Not that I’d ever convinced anyone at school either. I was called Harri Half-Stripe for almost six months after I first pulled these bad boys out for PE.

I briefly considered doing a clothes haul, but my Apple Pay was linked to all my cards, and I knew Rupert would still have access to the accounts. I was not ready to deal with Rupert. Or his mistress. Or the entire humiliating disaster that was now my life.

Instead, I pulled out my phone and texted Claire:

Don’t suppose you have any clothes I could borrow while I’m here? Harriette x

My phone pinged almost immediately.

Claire: OMG I was wondering when you’d text!! How are you?? And of course! Come to my flat. I mean, nothing in my wardrobe’s Gucci, but it’s definitely better than your maw’s! Xxxxx

Despite everything, the corner of my mouth twitched up.

I typed back quickly:

I’m being forced into helping at the soup kitchen, but I’ll stop by later. Thanks x

Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the back seat of Dad’s car, dressed in a pale blue zipper and combat-style jeans. Mum was in full stress mode in the front, worrying about Ina and how she’d expect everything to run perfectly in her absence. You’d think we were about to perform open-heart surgery, not ladle out vats of lumpy homemade soup.

I stared out at the damp, grim Scottish weather, which somehow felt personally insulting. My hands were tucked into my sleeves, which were doing absolutely nothing to fend off the cold.

‘You OK there, Harri?’ Dad asked, snapping me out of my daze.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ I sighed. ‘I’d just rather be doing literally anything else than this.’

‘Harri!’ Mum tutted.