Page 22

I’m attaching some links below because, even though you jest, it’s important to keep abreast of what vaccinations you need for different countries. And just remember that everywhere you go isn’t a party. Malaysia is a Muslim country so don’t booze your way around Kuala Lumpur. And when you talk about random new-wave-style music and all your super-cool vibes, you do sound a bit like a muso-wanker. That’s free advice.

I don’t know if you want to hear about me. Emma had another gorgeous little girl called Violet but she’s still married to her wanker. Lucy is dating a tattoo-covered dwarf called Tony. Mum’s started hot yoga. I want to say I miss you but I don’t know where you are so technically I don’t know what to feel.

Please look at those links.

Grace x

White wash (to include PE kits)

Semi-skimmed milk

Pay C’s school trip

Check wellies still fit, re-label wellies

Look at desserts menu for memorial

Call Mum

Profits spreadsheet for Carrie Cantello

I’m crouched next to the washing machine sorting dirty clothes. I have a thing for socks. They’re all the same colour in this house and tiny odd socks make me sad. I think about socks out there on their own without a partner so I’m religious at making sure they stick together. I do a white wash on a Thursday. I drop the girls to school, go for a half-hour swim. Then I come home, have a long shower, check my emails and break at eleven o’clock for a coffee and two biscuits. I mean, I’m not completely sad – the biscuits have chocolate on them.

My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter and I look at it, briefly. Carrie Cantello has posted something on the class WhatsApp group.

Just checking, how many times has Miss Loveday read with your children in the past week?

I stare at my phone while a couple of replies pop up.

Oh, Carrie. Give over. I volunteer at the school on Tuesday afternoons to read with some of the kids and the job gets done. I think about whether to reply.Go and bloody poof up your Ravenclaw pillows.But the doorbell suddenly rings to stop me from getting involved in that fight. I head into the hallway tentatively. At this hour, it’s either the dodgy men going door-to-door trying to sell new fascias or some delivery man asking me to hold a parcel for the neighbours, who seem to shop exclusively at Amazon.

‘Hola, bitchface,’ says the person behind it.

‘Meg?’ I answer. I step over the threshold and throw my arms around my sister. ‘Seriously? You’re here?’

‘I’m here.’ She has a rucksack on her back, a wheelie bag by her feet and suddenly my brain goes into overdrive.

‘What’s happened? Have you left Danny?’ I mutter, shocked. Danny is her husband and she broke all our hearts when she moved to the Lake District with him and their family.

‘Errr, no. Why would I leave Danny and come here?’

‘Because if you went back to London, there’s Mum.’

‘True. But no, I came here to see you actually. Danny’s taken charge of the girls and I thought I’d come and spend some time with my little sister.’

I eye her up suspiciously as she enters the house. Meg used to be ultra-London trendy, and there are elements of that still there, but the Lakes also make her value the benefits of a proper outdoor coat. She takes off her beanie and sits on the steps to take off her boots.

‘You drove?’ I continue.

‘I trained it. What exactly are you wearing by the way?’

I wasn’t expecting visitors so I’m in my work leisurewear of choice. It’s fleece leggings with woollen socks, fingerless gloves, slippers and, well, I was wooed over by that ad I saw on Instagram the other day so I’m also wearing a jumper that doubles as a blanket. It means I don’t have to turn on the heating in the day so it saves money, even though I look like I’m surviving an apocalyptic winter.

‘It’s a Huggly.’

‘It’s a style statement.’

‘It’s work-from-home chic. I don’t wear this for meetings, obviously.’