‘Who then?’ Louise asks curiously.
‘I think,’ I say slowly, ‘it’s time for The Overlap.’ Sofia peers at me curiously in the gloom, so I add his name: ‘Will.’
EX 6: WILL AKUFFOAKA The OverlapPART ONE
The internet
Twitter.com
9.40pm
Will Akuffo@losingthewill • June 10
Genuine question, has anyone ever – literally ever in the history of wearing clothes – made use of the spare buttons they put on your inside label?
Esther Adams@SweetFannyAdams • June 10
I used them once to throw at someone.
Will Akuffo@losingthewill • June 10
Was it effective? Should I inform Bush we finally discovered some weapons of mass destruction?
Esther Adams@SweetFannyAdams • June 10
What an incredibly up-to-date joke!
Will Akuffo@losingthewill • June 10
Wasssssssssupppppp! Is niiiiiice. Who ya gonna call?
Esther Adams@SweetFannyAdams • June 10
I stand corrected, you are the very embodiment of current references.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I’m going to hit her, I’m honestly going to hit her.
‘But wheeeeeeeeeeeen are they going to seeeeeeeeee me?’ Bibi wails at the ceiling and the entire waiting room turns to look. Orglareto be more accurate.
‘Probably any minute, babe,’ Louise says reassuringly, the patience of a saint.
Bibi lolls onto my lap, looking up at me pleadingly. ‘It huuuuuuuuurts, Essssssstheeeeerrrrr!’
‘Yes I fucking know,’ I hiss. She has been saying the same things for three hours straight, as we wait to be seen by the doctor.
She has what we think is a broken little finger. Which is extra frustrating because – from what we’ve seen online – there’s not even anything the docs can do about it. They’ll just strap it up and send her on her way. But she insisted we come all the same, wailing like a banshee for the whole car ride over here.
Nick drove us.
Personally, I was ready to waste money on an Uber, but Louise – embarrassingly – called Nick, claiming it made sense because he’s the only person we know with a car and only lives around the corner. He very kindly obliged, turning up looking more dishevelled than ever and – hilariously – in his pyjamas. Which is why he’s now waiting outside in the car instead of in here with us. That, and the fact that he understandably didn’t want to pay the £65-ish car park charges.
It’s the broken toilet’s fault. It started doing its stupid overflowing thing again, and while Louise was back on the phone with Lord of the Pricks, AKA our landlord, Bibi decided to take it upon herself to try to fix it once and for all.
Of course, she immediately dropped the hefty ceramic cistern lid on her hand. After a lot of screaming and crying, we got Sofia out of bed to ask her opinion. She gave Bibi the only drugs in the house – some heavy duty Night Nurse – and said we should all go to A&E. We didn’t realize until too late that Bibi was secretly downing the entire bottle in the car, and she’s been semi-conscious and talking gibberish ever since.
‘It huurrrrrrrts, Louiiiiiiiiiiise,’ Bibi starts again. ‘Why don’t we go see a doctor?’
