Chapter Eight

It’s been a whole week since I saw Paul. I’m still working on my grown-up to-do list, but I’m struggling, to be honest. I have no idea what career I’d like to start and I still don’t have a hobby. Crochet definitely isn’t for me, even if I am keeping up the pretence so I can thwart James’ cunning plan to fleece Gran, and I’ve crossed all the possible hobbies out on the list I made in my bullet journal, including mixology because I watched a few YouTube videos and it looks really complicated with all that bottle-tossing and spinning and stuff, not to mention the cost of buying all that booze. It’s much cheaper and much less faff to order a cocktail in a bar.

My phone pings and I dive on it, hoping to see a message from Paul. We’ve been chatting through WhatsApp for the past week and I’ve liked every one of his new Instagram posts and stories. I may have scrolled through his grid to see if I could glean any information about the ex-girlfriend as well but I’d deny it under torture.

The message isn’t from Paul. It’s from Courtney, a girl we went to school with. She followed me on Instagram a few days ago, and I’ve had a nosy through her grid too. She has a beautiful house with two cars on the driveway and the interior is opulent without being too flashy. She posts photos of her home at least once a day, and who can blame her? I’d want everyone to be jealous if I lived in a house like that too.

I flick through my bullet journal and underline ‘Move out of Mum & Dad’s’, adding an ‘ASAP’ at the end for good measure before opening Courtney’s message.

Hey, babe! It’s been SO LONG since I saw you! When was it? Shelby’s

21st? That was a MAD night! We DEFFO need to all get together again and

catch up :)

I ignore the part about Shelby’s twenty-first birthday party since I wasn’t invited and say that a catch-up would be great. Sienna, Franko and the others were my whole life back in my mid-teens and I can’t believe how far I’ve drifted from them, despite being in the exact same place I was back then. Every last one of them moved on during the few short weeks I was away: Sienna further across Europe before settling in New Zealand, Franko down to Kent, Peter and Courtney to university, and Shelby and Spencer to wherever they wandered off to, all of them leaving me behind. We kept in touch for a while, but the contact fizzled out over the years, even with Sienna, my BFF. To my shame, I don’t even know her married name and she isn’t listed on Instagram under her maiden name. I’m scrolling through Courtney’s friends list, to see if I can find her that way, when Mum pokes her head through my bedroom door.

‘I’m putting a wash on before I pop out to Asda. Have you got anything that needs bobbing in?’

I sit up on my bed and look down at the floor. There’s a hoodie in the corner, an odd sock in front of the wardrobe and a pair of leggings with my knickers still tangled up in one of the legs poking out from under the bed.

‘Nah, I’m all right for now.’ I settle back down with my phone, scrolling through the hundreds of contacts Courtney has.

‘What about your bedding? When was the last time you changed it?’

I have no idea. Do people really keep track? Probably.

‘I’ll do it later.’

Mum hesitates at the door for a few more seconds before she retreats. I scroll through a few more contacts before I grab my journal and flick it open at the grown-up to-do list. I really should learn how to use the washing machine – and change my sheets unprompted.

I stare down at my list, tapping my pen against the page as I contemplate the points. I still haven’t a clue about the kind of career I’d like to pursue, so I move on to ‘Move out of Mum & Dad’s ASAP’, which should be slightly easier once I’ve downloaded a property app to help me. Once I have the app open, I filter the properties by area (Clifton-on-Sea, because I still have to work at the chippy for now and I can’t drive, though I have booked my first lesson. I add the booking of said lesson to my list now, just so I have something I can cross off). I leave the rental price at the default, because I have no idea what the going rate is – Mum and Dad only take a tiny, token amount from me each month. I only need one bedroom and a flat will do for now.

I tap the search button.

Nothing.

I change the property type to ‘any’. Still nothing. Two bedrooms? Nope.

This isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be. I do vaguely remember Dad saying they should rename Woodland Road to Airbnb Road as half the houses have been bought to rent out as holiday lets, pricing out the locals (whatever that means). Maybe James wasn’t bullshitting about his reason for moving in with Gran if there aren’t any available properties for single people in town.

Or maybe he really is the snake I suspect him to be. How do you know if someone is a con man before it’s too late and they’ve run off with all your worldly goods? I’m about to google it when I notice the time on my phone. I’m due at work in three minutes.

‘ Mum .’ I scrabble off the bed and hunt for my shoes. There’s a lime-green Converse by the window and a glittery one wedged between the wardrobe and chest of drawers. Is it too kooky to mix and match? ‘ Mum? ’ I’m on my hands and knees now, peeking underneath the bed. There’s a lot of crap under there, but I can’t see any footwear.

‘Mum!’ With the odd shoes in hand, I scurry down the stairs, flinging myself from room to room. I find a black slider and a fluffy slipper on the way, but nothing suitable to wear to work. ‘Mum?’ I’m out of breath as I shuffle into the kitchen, leaning against the worktop for support. She isn’t in here, but I can see Dad in the garden, crouched over his border with trowel in hand. He looks up as I make my way carefully over the patio in my socks.

‘Where’s Mum?’ I turn back towards the house, as though she’ll appear at the back door.

‘She’s gone to Asda.’ Dad’s attention is back on his shrubby things so he doesn’t see me look up at the cloudy sky as I groan with frustration. I do vaguely remember her saying something about the supermarket but I wasn’t really paying attention.

‘But I need a lift to work.’ I turn to the house again, wishing with all my might that Mum will be there, car keys in one hand and a matching shoe in the other. ‘I’m going to be late.’

Dad shakes his head as he stabs at the ground with the trowel. ‘Your time management is shocking.’

‘Yeah, I’m aware.’ It’s another thing to add to the list. Get to work on time . ‘You haven’t seen one of these shoes, have you?’ I hold up my mismatched footwear. Dad peers at them for a moment.

‘I think there’s a green one in the hallway. Your mum nearly tripped over it in the kitchen this morning.’

‘Great. Well, not great about the tripping. You know what I mean. Thanks.’ I’m babbling as I scamper back over the patio and dive into the kitchen. There’s a shoe rack in the hallway, beneath the coat hooks, and sure enough there’s a single lime-green Converse sitting next to Mum’s work heels. I don’t know why I didn’t look here in the first place (probably because I never use the shoe rack – I’m not that organised). Dumping the glittery shoe on the rack (there’s a first time for everything), I grab the green one and sit on the bottom stair so I can shove them on my feet. I’m officially late for work. Again.

The Fish & Chip Shop Around The Corner is only a quick dash away – a couple of streets to the park, skirt around the perimeter until you reach the church, head down towards the seafront, then a sharp right and you’re there – but my chest is on fire and I think I may throw up by the time I fling myself into the shop, almost knocking Elliot over as he leaves after his shift. I’m supposed to be taking over from him, which cements the fact that I’m late. Claire and Bridget, who I’ll be sharing the early evening shift with, are already behind the counter, which doesn’t bode well since I’m their supervisor and should be at the shop before them. Especially as both Jed and Russell are here, witnessing my bad employee behaviour.

‘Cleo, here at last.’ Russell’s tone sounds jovial, but then it always does. He’s that kind of person. ‘Can we have a word? In the back room?’

I shoot Claire a look of panic as I pass. This is it. My time management – or lack of it – is finally going to bite me on the arse and I’m going to lose my job.

‘In you come.’ Jed holds the door open for me and I shuffle inside the back room. I really am going to throw up now. I know I was going to leave anyway, to start my new, exciting and fulfilling career, but I wanted it to be on my terms. I didn’t want to be sacked by two people I consider my friends as well as my employers, and being fired from your last job doesn’t look too good on your CV.

‘Take a seat.’ Russell indicates the wobbly chairs. I take one and Jed lowers himself carefully into the other while Russell perches on the little filing cabinet. He clasps his hands on his lap, a sombre look I’ve never seen from him before on his face. The big, cheesy grin has limped away, his lips pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows have lowered, leaving him with a furrowed brow. This must be his ‘you’re fired’ look. I do not like this look one bit.

‘We need to discuss something serious with you.’

My heart is pounding and I’m sweating in places I’ve never sweated from before. I don’t want to be fired, but I have to somehow prepare myself for it anyway, which basically means trying my hardest not to cry.

I close my eyes and take a breath as I wait for the blow.