Fullepub 
Chapter 16
16
I call up the GP’s surgery and the London Home Team, both of whom seem reluctant to engage with me because I’m not a family member of Mr. Yoon. I consider going round to his flat and asking him to sign a declaration or registering me as a point of contact and dropping it off at both offices. But then I remember:
Mr. Yoon currently hates me.
I may have been inserting myself into his life a little too much and should probably scale it back. I hate it when people get up in my business, and Mr. Yoon has a very similar personality type to me so I can understand why he’s pissed off at my nosing about. Either way, he’s the closest thing I have to family in London—almost a surrogate grandpa—and the thought of having upset him made me cry the hardest I’ve cried since, well, since I didn’t wear plaits on top of my head.
In the end, I make a decision to get in touch with the local council and see if there’s someone there to co-ordinate Mr. Yoon’s care so that he can have a bit of space from me when he wants it.
In my bedroom, I switch on the fan and google Gen Hartley. Since thinking I saw her last night, her face has been buzzing annoyingly around my brain and I find myself curious about what her situation is these days. Unlike Jonah, she is right there at the top of Google. It’s a newspaper article. Gen Hartley and Ryan Sweeting holding one of those obnoxious gigantic charity cheques, smiling graciously into the camera. I scan the text.
Gen and Ryan Hartley—He took her name?—hand over their cheque for the fundraising night of their new party planning business, Sweethearts Events.
I roll my eyes and look up at the date of the article. It’s only from a year ago.
I carry on reading.
Gen and Ryan have recently returned to Gen’s childhood home in West London after spending ten years in New York with their two children (Freya, 9, and George, 6). They finally set up the business they had always dreamed of running when they met at Bayswater High School as teenagers.
I frown. She’s back in London after living in New York?
Since launching their business, The Sweethearts—as they’re known by their friends—have planned charity events for celebrities as illustrious as Benedict Cumberbatch, Niall Horan from One Direction, and Bake Off’s Paul Hollywood.
About the fundraiser, Gen says:
“Since Ryan and I met, we always wanted to run a business where people could have fun and experience joy, while also giving back to the causes that mean so much to us. We are delighted to be based in West London once more and hope to plan many more fundraising parties in our corner of London and beyond.”
Ugh. If this were a real newspaper, I would light it on fire. But it’s just the internet, so instead I give the screen the middle finger and a hard stare. How are Gen and Ryan still managing to scam people? They want to give back to the causes that mean something to them? They only ever cared about how they could best humiliate me for cachet with the other pupils. Kids who never actually liked them but were too scared to do anything about their reign of terror over me.
I click the link to Gen’s Instagram page. She looks shiny and happy in every picture, surrounded by her friends and admittedly very cute children. She’s having days out in the country, visiting literary festivals, going horse riding with Ryan. Her house, which was slightly run-down when we were kids, now has underfloor heating and a set of Le Creuset pans.
A small, faraway place inside my heart feels happy that my nerdy little pal from the neighbourhood got everything she ever wanted. It is immediately taken over by a swell of rage at the unfairness that Gen and Ryan have all of this when I have…
Exactly what I wanted.
Right?
The relentless heat means that I take my third shower of the day at 6:15 p.m. and get dressed in a light sleeveless cotton shirt and baggy white trousers. I add some concealer to my now slightly sunburned face and a few coats of waterproof mascara to my lashes. I can’t bring myself to remove my braids, but I do take a butterfly hairpin that belonged to my mum and clip my already dampening fringe to one side.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see that Cooper is wearing another black linen shirt, but this time with some pale jeans instead of black ones. He doesn’t seem to notice that I’ve made any effort at all, which makes me feel slightly embarrassed about the butterfly hair clip. Instead, he hands me a paper bag that I recognise as coming from Meyer’s Pharmacy.
I peek inside and see two pillboxes. One is for Canesten. Also in there is a leaflet about thrush. On the back of the leaflet, there’s a scribble of words written in blue ink.
Dear Delphie,
I saw you were having some difficulties with your vulval area earlier today while you were walking by the shop. My first instinct was thrush so I have included a medicine that will knock it out right now. I will dock the cost amount from your wage. If you are having any burning while peeing I would suggest booking in with the GP as you may have something that needs a prescription like cystitis or a UTI.
Hope you continue to have a good week off work.
With all best wishes,
Leanne (from Meyer’s Pharmacy)
My cheeks go hot. I shove the note back in the paper bag and then the whole thing into my tote.
I side-eye Cooper.
“Did you look in the pharmacy bag?”
“Of course I didn’t look in your pharmacy bag.”
“Did you read the note?”
“Delphie, your medical concerns couldn’t be of less interest to me.” He glances down at the serious black leather watch strapped onto his wrist. “We ought to go or we’ll be late.”
I lean back and narrow my eyes, examining his face for some indication that he’s lying. Finding none, I nod slowly.
“Okay, good. Let’s get this over with.”
