But it’s OK, I have an explanation. ‘I was totally going to get on with looking for a job first thing this morning, but, like, I had to have breakfast first,obviously! It’s the most important meal of the day or whatever.’ I pause, gauging her reaction. ‘And then I was really cold from my smoothie – which I made from scratch by the way! Did you even know you guys had a Nutribullet? It was right at the back of the cupboard, covered in dust!’ Jemma doesn’t look impressed. ‘So anyway, afterwards I had to get back into bed to warm up, and then I thought I’d just watch, like, ten minutes of telly while I got cosy, and then I remembered I’ve been wanting to watchBuffy the Vampire Slayerever since I met Angela’s daughter. So I started it from the pilot episode – which isso goodby the way – and Isomehowended up watching, like, seven episodes.’ I grimace comically, adding, ‘-teen. Seventeen. It’s just too good.’ Jemma is still unmoved. I clear my throat. ‘So, yeah! Then it was way past lunchtime and I ate too much, so had to have a quick nap. And I had this amazing dream about winning the lottery, so when I woke up I started making this list and now it’s half five…’ I trail off. I guess, now that I’ve said all of that out loud, it doesn’t sound like the best reason to have wasted the whole day.
Ugh, it’s not my fault I have no self-control. It’s not something I’d choose as a personality trait!
And the truth is, I don’t have any idea where to start with the job hunt, even if I could find the motivation to look. I googled ‘new career ideas’ last night, and – after baulking at the billion-plus results – clicked on a job quiz. I answered a few confusingly worded questions about my temperament, but all it did was reinforce that I have no idea who I am or what I want. This feels like a huge hurdle – like I’m facing a massive brick wall – and starting the search is just too big.
Jemma sighs and looks away, out the window. It’s a Mum guilt move. ‘Did you at least get loo roll and milk like I asked?’
‘Yes!’ I say too loudly, gesturing to the corner where my bag for life sits. Jemma left me with a list of chores for the day, including getting a few things from the shop. But the thing is, I literally haven’t got any money. Last time I tapped mycredit card to pay for something, it didn’t request my PIN, it just dry-coughed and told me to go fuck myself.
So I had to improvise.
Jemma is peering into the bag disapprovingly. ‘What am I looking at?’ she says, sounding way too much like our mum again.
‘I popped to the local Wetherspoons,’ I explain, and she cocks her head, waiting for more. I’m excited as I explain. ‘Don’t you even know?! You can get free bog roll from their loos! And tiny sachets of milk. I nicked enough to keep us going all week.’ She picks up a mini-pot of UHT milk and I catch aJesusmuttered under her breath. ‘You don’t even have to put them in the fridge,’ I offer hopefully, and she stands back up, sighing.
‘OK, thanks, I guess,’ she says, turning to go.
‘Oh wait!’ I pull the covers off me, wincing at the rush of cold that hits my bare legs. ‘Book Boyfriendis on again tonight.’ Jemma turns back, disinterest plain on her face. ‘The second episode, remember?’ I search her face. ‘The first episode wassobrilliant, I wish you’d stayed and watched the rest, you only gave it five minutes. Ilovedit. It’s almost made me want to read the book!’ I laugh. ‘You really need to see how gorgeous the lead guy who plays George is. I looked him up, his name is Milo Samuels – it’s a sexy name, right? He’s a Brit! I totally assumed he was American, putting on an English accent.’ I cock my head. ‘Or maybe Aussie – like a Hemsworth brother or whatever. Honestly, I didn’t think we made men that hot over here. We can’t grow them, we don’thave the climate.’ I’m barely pausing for breath. ‘Either way, I’m legit obsessed! I can’t wait for the next episode tonight.’ Out in the hallway, I hear a noise. ‘HAZ? SALMA?’
Harry’s head pokes in, closely followed by Salma. ‘What’s up?’ he asks, as Salma piles past and into bed with me.
‘I’m cold!’ she declares by way of explanation, burrowing under my duvet. I catch Jemma watching her with jealous eyes and hold in a sigh.
‘I was just saying to Jim-Jems,’ I begin, ‘thatBook Boyfriendepisode two is on tonight. You guys in?’
‘Yes!’ they intone together, and I beam at their enthusiasm. ‘See, Jem? You need to give it a proper go tonight.’
Jemma nods non-committally but I refuse to be deterred.
The trouble is, my sister has always painted this picture of me in her head. She thinks I’m a shitty person, she always has. But just because she cares about stuff that I don’t, doesn’t make her nicer than me. I’m nice! I totally had giving to charity on my lottery to-do list until she demanded more money for her and Mum. Who’s really the bad guy here?
If I could just figure out what to do with my life now I’m home, I think everything would fall into place. Jemma has it all together; this steady career, great friends like Salma and Harry. She’s sorted. So of course she thinks I’m a loser layabout. I wish I had her motivation, her willpower.
‘Stop being a spoilsport, Jemma!’ Salma shouts at her from beside me. ‘I’ve had a crappy day at the radio station. We had a competition winner in who we had to take out for a fancy lunch. He stole all the nice bread from the bread basket – leftme only that crappy rye grain shit – and then kept asking the waiter for purloin steak.’
Harry looks delighted. ‘Instead of sirloin steak?’
She nods as I cackle next to her. ‘And did they go steal him a steak?’
‘It’s a full service restaurant,’ Salma nods, straight-faced.
Jemma looks dreamy. ‘This is making me hungry. Can’t we just watch old episodes ofMasterChefinstead of thisBook Boyfriendthing?’
Harry grunts a protest from the doorway. ‘No way! I’m the posh one here and even I’m sick of the judges sayingunctuousall the time. No one has ever used that word outside ofMasterChef.’
‘OK,’ Jemma says at last, laughing a little. ‘Fine, fine. I will give the second episode a go. But if I’m not feeling it in the first few minutes, I’m not staying. I have work to do anyway. And Clara has to promise not to constantly go on about the actor.’ She rolls her eyes, but nicely. ‘I bet he’s not even all that.’
I throw a pillow at her as she laughs again. ‘How dare you talk about my soulmate that way!’ I nod half to her, half to myself as she waves her way out of the room. Something flips over in my stomach as I call out after her, ‘He’s The One, Jim-Jems, he really is! You’ll see!’
Chapter TenJEMMA
After two wonderful years of marriage, we have mutually decided to amicably split. Please respect our wish for privacy at this time.
Total horse-do-do.
‘If those years of marriage were sowonderful, why are they divorcing, huh?’ I jab at the phone screen over Clara’s shoulder.
‘Don’t say that!’ Clara whines at me, wriggling further into the sofa as she turns her phone away – and with it, the showbiz homepage of theDaily Mail– from my view. ‘You don’t know anything about Greta and Indiana, or their relationship. They were so perfect together and their break-up is a national tragedy. They were amazing in all the films they starred in together.’
