I closed my eyes and welcomed in the familiar rush of regret that always trotted not far behind an unwise agreement that had been made while completely hammered. My phone buzzed again. I looked to see Becky’s reply only to discover a message from Josh, instead:
Josh:
What are you doing in Scarnbrook? Do Mum and Dad know you’rethere?
My regret was swiftly replaced by terror as I sat bolt upright. Too quickly, apparently, given that my hangover-induced nausea intensified by a significant magnitude as I did so.
I downloaded the attachment to his message. It was a screengrab of an Instagram story that awful Darren bloke had posted earlier this morning. It was the selfie he’d snapped while I’d been Peak Pissed. The caption read:
Smashed @TheStarScarnbrook pub quiz with @RealJoshAllister’s sister.Off to do his latest weights workout to sweat out the hangover.
The absolute prick. My hands shook as I typed out a swift reply to Josh in an attempt to nip this in the bud:
Mally:
Hey, just catching up with some old friends here while I’ve got someunexpected time off work. Nothing to be concerned about. Mum and Daddon’t know and there’s no reason why they need to. Don’t worry.
Josh:
So you know this Darren guy? Doesn’t seem like the kind of personyou’d be friends with.
Mally:
No, just some random bloke in the pub who ended up joining our quizteam. Barely spoke to him.
Josh:
So how does he know you’re my sister?
Mally:
The woman behind the bar said something – you know what it’s likeround here. Bit annoyed he’s posted this to be honest.
Josh:
Do you want me to ask him to delete it?
Mally:
Don’t bother. He’s just fishing for attention.
Josh:
OK. Well, if you’re sure everything’s fine?
Mally:
I’m sure. Speak soon.
But I knew Josh. Despite my efforts to mollify his concerns, I knew he’d be scrutinising the revelation I was in Scarnbrook with an intensity that evenLine of Duty’s Steve Arnott would be bursting out of his waistcoat to contain. There was only one thing for it: I absolutely had to get back to London as soon as humanly possible to avoid any other screw-ups like this. I could make the article up when I was safely back in my familiar flat. Let’s be honest, it would probably be a better piece that way, too. Elle wouldn’t care, as long as it gave her the clicks she craved. I began composing one of my mental lists:
Step one of mission to escape Scarnbrook: hydrate.
Step two: somehow get through the shift in the pub (I couldn’t let Becky down, now).
Step three: acquire car ASAP – go to another garage if needed.
Step four: get the hell out of here. For good.
