Page 121 of Secret Paths

“Yes,” I mutter. “We all know.”

By the time a member of staff clears the error, I can feel Alexandra watching me from somewhere near the envelopes.

I do not look back.

I carry the bag to the car, put it carefully on the passenger seat, and sit behind the wheel for a second with both hands resting on it.

Then I laugh once.

Quietly.

Because if I do not laugh, I may have to admit that I have just lied to my sister in a supermarket because the woman I am not supposed to want publicly is sitting in my cottage wearing my jumper.

I start the car and head home.

By the time I get back, Mandy is on the sofa with the blanket over her legs. She pauses the telly as yet another damp wall fills the screen and leans back against the sofa.

“Successful?”

“I have returned with supplies.”

“Good.”

I hand her the bag. “Pads with wings. Actual pads. Two options because the aisle was designed by people who hate clarity. Ibuprofen. Plain black knickers with no slogans, cartoons or alarming declarations.”

She looks inside.

Then at me.

“You bought chocolate and sweets.”

“Yes.”

“Because I started my period?”

“I thought you might want them.”

“That is such a cliché.”

“I was being supportive.”

“You bought half a children’s party.”

“I panicked.”

She gives me a look, then takes out the dark chocolate and opens it.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Do not,” she says, breaking off a square.

“I said nothing.”

“You were about to.”

“I value my life.”

She puts the chocolate in her mouth and closes her eyes for half a second.