From:Oliver Webb
To:Phoebe Henderson
Subject: Re: Question
Oh fuck you. I’m not opening anything else from you today. Otherwise I’m going to have to disappear into the toilets with this photo like the worst human ever. Now leave me alone.
From:Oliver Webb
To:Phoebe Henderson
Subject: Re: Question
I just noticed your knickers are pulled down around your thighs. You fucking shithead. I’m literally throbbing.
Ten minutes later he called me from inside a cubicle and we had phone sex. Damn, that turned me on.
Friday November 24th
Another photo from Lucy today, sunbathing on the edge of a pier with a drink in one hand, surrounded by the bluest sea I’ve ever seen in my life. I swear she must have filtered that shit, it was the colour of a raspberry slush puppy.
I started re-readingThe Handmaid’s Talelast night but Oliver distracted me by calling me Ofoliver and asking me if I wanted to play Scrabble. He’s such a dick sometimes.
Monday November 27th
Thank God, Lucy is back. The office has been far too quiet and harmonious without her.
‘I know I sent you a few pics while I was away but I’ve uploaded loads to my Instagram, if you want a look.’ She smirked. ‘I know how much you love Instagram . . .’
‘Oh I’ll look through your photos, no problem, as long as you haven’t hashtagged them with every word in the English dictionary.’
‘Noteveryword. I’m not a monster. Oh, talking of photos, we got our wedding snaps developed. Some of them are amazing – I’ll bring them round. But there does seem to be an awful lot of Frank and that bloody woman . . . no one else, just them doing weird selfie pouts. I’m going to stick them up all over his office. Fucking losers.’
Tuesday November 28th
Oliver isn’t well and when Oliver isn’t well, the entire house must hear about it continuously, on a loop, twenty-four hours a day.
‘How can you have the flu?’ I asked, rushing to help Molly get ready. ‘You got your flu shot at work last week!’
‘I think that’s what gave me the flu. Can you bring me some tea?’
‘Yes. In a minute. I’m just sorting Molly out.’
I swear if that fucker gives me his diseases, I’ll scream.
December
Friday December 1st
Since Oliver’s been sleeping so much during the day with his man-flu, he’s now determined that no one else shall sleep at a normal hour.
‘You still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.’
I turned on the bedside lamp and saw Oliver’s eyes peering at me from over the duvet.
‘Are you kidding me? Oliver, if you wake me up at five-thirty to ask me that, ever again, the answer will be “a gun”.’
‘No, seriously,’ he insisted. ‘What do you want? It’s less than a month away.’
