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She stared at me. ‘So you’re wandering about the house in the buff now?’

‘I thought you’d be asleep,’ I said weakly.

‘Your father’s on his way down! Do you want to give him a heart attack?’

‘Right. Sorry,’ I managed.

She tutted, then marched over and flung the blinds open. ‘How was your day yesterday? Did you and Jamie have fun?’

Jesus. A lot of fun, actually. Specifically a proper ten inches of fun on your sofa, Marge.

‘Yeah, it was good. Nice to get out,’ I said, scanning the room for my clothes like they might magically reappear.

My mum opened her mouth to say something, then paused.

Sniffed.

Oh no.

‘Do you smell that, Harri?’

My entire body shut down.

She sniffed again, frowning, then cracked the window open. ‘It smells a bit . . . foustie in here,’ she said, smacking her lips together. ‘Tangy. Bitter, almost.’

I said absolutely nothing. Across the room, I spotted my leggings and underwear lying in a deeply incriminating heap of foustiness by the door. Brilliant. I waited until she wandered into the kitchen to pop the kettle on, then lunged for them.

‘I’m going for a shower and a lie down!’ I called, already halfway out of the room. ‘Then I’ll get ready for the soup kitchen later.’

I shuffled upstairs like a disgraced Greek goddess. Dad passed by me. ‘Morning, hen,’ he said, smiling, but with a look of deep confusion.

‘Hi! Sorry! Just getting ready!’ I shouted, fleeing. I’d just made it into my room when his voice boomed through the house:

‘What the fuck is that smell, Marge?’

Great. I jumped in the shower, replaying my crazy night. As much as I wanted to say I regretted it all, I couldn’t. Last night was amazing, and not because it had gone viral on my account and millions of people had commented on and added a little heart to my evening. It was different. It felt special, and in a way that I didn’t need strangers to validate it. I scrubbed my body, my mind running between Jamie and Rupert. I hadn’t seen my husband for weeks now, and it was the longest we’d ever been apart. I thought about his smell, his smile, his laugh. Everything about him that I’d fallen in love with. Guilt pierced through me, knowing I had been pumping a random ned on my mum’s couch all night, but worse than that was knowing how much I’d enjoyed it.

‘Marge!’ I heard a familiar voice call out from downstairs. ‘My mum’s asking if she can borrow your iron, hers is on the blink.’

It was Claire. Thank God. My legs volleyed out of the shower, and I stuck my head out from the bathroom door, water still dripping off me.

‘Claire! Pssst, Claire!’ I whispered.

I watched her glance around, then her gaze met mine, just as my mum passed her the iron.

‘Are you naked?’ she asked, just as I realised one of my nipples was sticking through the space in the doorway.

‘Still! For fuck sake, Harri! She’s been like that all morning, hen. I don’t know what’s got into her!’ My mum tutted then strolled back into the living room.

‘I need you!’ I pleaded. ‘Come up!’

Claire began to laugh, curiosity sparking in her eyes, and then she headed up the stairs to my room. I quickly wrapped a towel around me and joined her.

‘What’s up?’ she asked, looking concerned. ‘Don’t tell me he’s done something else?’

I shook my head, slowly biting my lip.

‘Not him. Me.’ I admitted quietly, looking over my shoulder, making sure the door was definitely shut.