Harper pouted, and Eiley ignored her. For the first time, she realised her words were true. Shedidn’twant another relationship. She was happy where she was, with people who loved her despite her bad days, just out of her comfort zone enough to feel proud of herself. She certainly had no interest in flirting.
Especiallynot with Coffee Giant, who would have been an insufferable rake if they were in a historical romance novel, one unchaperoned interaction away from syphilis. She decided he was less Darcy and more Wickham.
No, she would keep to her harmless daydreams.
Harper fell back on her cushion with a huff, taking on the role of disappointed, melodramatic mother whose daughter wasnotin want of a husband. “Fine. I will have to find my muse somewhere else. I’ll just struggle along, inspirationless.”
Eiley smirked. See? She was already feeling much better. Who needed a sultry romance hero when they had a mad family like hers?
Well,shestill sort of did; as soon as the girls waded back into the pool, she pulled out her current read and returnedto a world where relationships were easy. A world where people like her sometimes got happily ever afters. A world where even the most conceited men turned out to be decent in the end.
The romance genre was beginning to feel more fantasy-like than Harper’s fairy tale.
5
The universe must have heard Eiley’s earlier complaints, because she didn’t even get an hour of uninterrupted sleep, let alone a night. Her head, foggy from too much cheese and gin, hit the plush feather pillow at midnight and rose again forty minutes later to the sound of her repetitive alarm jingle.
No, she realised when, with her eyes still shut, she fumbled for the snooze option only for the sound to continue. Not an alarm. A phone call.
Panic spiralled through her. The kids. Mum. Had something happened? Nobody would call her at this time just because.
In the bed next to her, Cam grumbled something about shutting the fluff up and yanked her duvet over her head. Eiley scrambled for the phone, left charging on the nightstand. The screen light seared her retina when she opened one eye.
The caller ID didn’t provide any comfort. Maggie. What could her landlady want to chat about at this time? Had Eiley fumbled a delivery? Miscalculated the cash flow? Was she going to be evicted?
She tapped the answer button and choked out a high-pitched, “Hi, Maggie!”
On the other end, the signal crackled until Maggie’s friendly voice broke through. “Hi, dear.” Eiley released a breath. She wasn’t in trouble, thank heavens. “I’m so sorry to be calling so late, and on your weekend away, but we’ve got a wee problem.”
Shoving the heavy duvet off her belly, Eiley sprang into a seat. “What’s wrong?”
“Shut … up …” Cam groaned, and Eiley shushed her sharply.
“I had a call from the fire station. Apparently, the neighbours reported a huge flood coming from the shop, so the firefighters have had to go in to get a handle on it.” Oh, god. A flood. “I’m away in the Lake District with my fella for the weekend, you see, and I was wondering if you’d mind seeing to it?”
“I’m so sorry – I’m not home, but I’m not far. I’ll head straight there.” Eiley kicked herself out of bed in a daze, searching for something to put on her feet. She couldn’t remember where she’d kicked off her slippers, or stored her suitcase, and the darkness was impossible to wade through in her groggy, frantic state. “Do you know how bad it is?”
“Well, it’s come from an old water tank in the attic, so I’m afraid your poor flat is suffering. I’m so, terribly sorry, dear. I’ve never even looked in the loft.”
Eiley’s fingers clenched harder around her phone. The flat. God, she didn’t even want to think about how bad it might be. All of the children’s belongings, their new beds and duvets and furniture she’d spent days assembling, albeit badly … They’d only just settled. How could things already be going wrong?
“Eiley, are you still there?” Panic laced Maggie’s question.
“Yes, sorry. I’m here.” She gulped. “I’m … I’m sorry I wasn’t there to catch it sooner.” Maggie’s only other employee, a middle-aged bloke named Fergus who, much to her annoyance, liked to rearrange Eiley’s displays had closed up today, which meant the flood must have happened after. She should have been there. She could have caught it. If the neighbours had been the ones to spot it, how terrible was it? Would her belongings be floating halfway down Main Street?
“These things can’t be helped, love,” Maggie reassured gently. “Could you give me a text with any updates? I’ll try to get back first thing tomorrow.”
“Of course. See you soon, Maggie.” Eiley flicked on the bedside lamp, leading to another string of curses from Cam. Harper joined in from the bed adjacent, sprawled like a starfish across the double mattress with dribble trickling from her mouth and dampening her pillow.
“I need to go home,” Eiley told them.
“Oh, for fuck’s sakes. This is just like you,” Cam uttered, rubbing her eyes until they were watering. “Every sleepover you ever went to, you ended up calling Mum to come and pick you up—”
“My flat’s flooded!”
At Eiley’s untamed screech, Harper slid off her pink silk sleep mask with an, “Oh, bollocks.”
“Well, what are you going to do about it? You can’t stop water from pouring!” Cam’s words were slurred. Still drunk. Which meant the weekend’s designated driver wasn’t fit to take her home, and Eiley wasn’t much better off.
