Page 31

I stopped. ‘What?’

‘Have you not seen the latest? Please tell me you’ve at least been on TikTok.’

My face must have answered for me because she covered hers with both hands.

‘OK, fine. I’ll rip off the plaster,’ she mumbled, then raised her head. ‘Rupert was spotted at a hotel in London with Penelope. A TikToker posted it about an hour ago. That’s why I’ve been calling you.’ She winced. ‘It already has forty thousand views. People are going crazy.’

Heat surged from my toes straight to my face. I tried to speak, but nothing came out.

I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘What . . . what hotel?’

‘The Ritz.’ She shrugged, clearly wondering why that held any significance.

I gasped. Honestly, I think I’d have taken this so much better if it were a Holiday Inn.

My entire body started trembling.

Is this it for me? I wondered. Are they in love? Has he seriously moved on?

‘Harri, look.’ Claire shoved her phone in my face.

And there was my darling husband walking through the hotel lobby with Little Miss Penelope-steals-yir-man, laughing together. Probably relieved I was missing. Maybe hoping I was dead and never coming back.

I felt sick. Like I couldn’t breathe. I pushed the phone away.

Eventually, I turned to Claire. ‘Maybe this . . . Could this be AI?’ I sounded naive, I knew that, but I also needed the glimmer of hope.

She shook her head slowly, pity in her eyes.

‘But why is he doing this?’ I asked, tears glazing my cheeks.

Claire wrapped an arm around my shoulders. ‘Because he thinks he can get away with it. Don’t let him, Harriette.’

I appreciated her kindness, but still I shrugged off her arm. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve stayed in London and ended this stupid fling between them! Me leaving has given them free rein.’ I groaned, rubbing my face. ‘He’s in the fucking Ritz enjoying himself with her, probably at my expense, and I’m stuck in the fucking Gorbals!’

Claire looked genuinely speechless for the first time in her life. Her brows lifted halfway to her hairline. If I weren’t so distressed, I’d have told her she needed to invest in a touch of baby Botox for the wrinkles forming there. She was gorgeous, but an extra lift would take years off her face.

Then suddenly her expression shifted. The worry lifted into a grin.

‘What’s stopping you from enjoying yourself while you’re here?’ she asked.

I was too stressed to answer, staring at my phone for answers it couldn’t give me.

‘Look, why don’t we get dressed up and head out?’ she continued. ‘I don’t have loads of money, but we could have a laugh. Forget about that revolting bastard for a while. You deserve a night out. And you deserve to get out of your mum’s house too.’

‘I have no clothes!’ I cut in. ‘Or money.’

‘But I do.’ She smirked. ‘And look, I’m not taking no for an answer. So you can either come into my room and get dressed . . .’ She paused. ‘. . . Or I’ll make a public post saying I’ve found Harriette Hope. It’s your choice.’

I lifted my head and caught my reflection in the TV screen. Jesus Christ, I was a jump scare. This episode of Get Ready With Me was going to look very different from the ones I was used to filming.

‘I don’t feel like going out. I’ve lost everything and I—’

She shook her head. ‘You have not lost your self-respect! He’s making a right cunt out of you, Harri.’ She reached out for me. ‘Don’t let him, babe. He’s no the boss of you.’

I gulped, knowing she was right. How could the man I’d loved for all of my adult life do this to me? ‘I could murder a glass of dry white wine,’ I admitted.

Claire grabbed my arm and hauled me towards her bedroom.