It’s like I’m in a parallel universe: finding out that Rich was about to propose on the same day I find out he’s cheated. I stare at the floor, furiously blinking away tears. I don’t want to cry; I want to hold on to my anger.
‘You think this is the right time to propose? Are you out of your mind?’
‘No, I know it’s not the right time, but you asked why you should believe what I say, so I wanted to show you with actions.’
I can’t do this right now. I want to close my eyes and wish this all away, or wake up and realise it’s all been a horrible dream.
‘I need to get out of here.’
‘Please don’t go. Please tell me there’s a way I can make it up to you.’
‘It’s over, Rich. I’m going to go and stay with my parents. You can shove your fucking ring. You and I are finished.’
Chapter 3
Despite what I told Rich, I’m not sure where I’m staying tonight. My parentsarethe logical option, because not only do they have a spare room, they havemyold room. But the idea of having to explain everything is too overwhelming. Tonight, I need a drama-free haven.
I try calling my brother Yannis. He’s three years older and easily the sibling I’m closest to. But he’s a chef who works nights in a West End restaurant, and all I get is a message telling me his voicemail is full.
My sisters are a less appealing prospect. Antigone, who’s four years younger and known to everyone as Tig, is drama central, like Mum. There’s a reason Yan and I call her Tactless Tig. Penelope, the youngest at nineteen, still lives at home so that rules her out.
That leaves Vandi, my best friend since secondary school. I might not see her as often as I should, but we WhatsApp each other constantly, and I know she’ll be there for me any time of day or night.
The cab ride to her Acton flat takes an impressively short twenty-five minutes, and I text her on the way to let her know I’m coming and why.
Vandi swings open the door before I’m halfway up her garden path.
‘Oh my God, Nella!’ She pulls me into a fierce hug. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’ve been better.’
‘The kettle’s boiled, and there’s dry white in the fridge and gin in the freezer.’
‘If I drink, I’ll throw up.’
‘Tea it is.’
I follow her into the hallway, shutting the door behind me.
‘Is Oliver here?’ I whisper.
‘He’s at his girlfriend’s.’
That’s something, I guess – not having to worry about her flatmate overhearing.
She goes to the kitchen and I sink onto the sofa.
I’m vibrating, like I’m not fully grounded. A tremor in my hand reminds me I haven’t eaten since lunch.
Like a mind-reader, Vandi arrives with a packet of Rich Tea and two mugs of Tetley.
I take a biscuit and demolish it in two bites. Then I tell her the whole story.
We’re half a packet down by the time I’ve finished.
‘And she was a receptionist at the clinic?’ Vandi asks.
‘Yeah. Lucy.’
