‘Did you do this?’ she hisses between clenched teeth.
‘No!’ I splutter, trying to control the anxiety erupting in my body. ‘Those are my designs, but I didn’t—’
Bianca claws one arm into the air and rips my poster down. I wince as it crumples to the floor.
‘How dare you!’ she bellows, her words striking me like daggers. ‘Who do you think you are, to swap my designs for yours? You’re an assistant!’
‘I’m sorry,’ I manage, my voice heavy, ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t—’
By this point, her flaming red hair is flailing behind her and her expression is murderous. Her teeth are bared, like fangs, and her voice is firing out of her mouth like bullets. My body convulses in fear and I feel the scorching heat of tears making my eyes burn.
‘You think these people want to see your shitty designs instead of mine?’ she thunders. ‘You think these people have come here to see you? You could have lost us our biggest client—’ She breaks off, her chest rising and falling dramatically and her eyes watering in fury. Her burning face is twisted with a look of disgust as she takes a step towards me. I step back against the wall instinctively. I open my mouth to speak but all the words die in my throat and I’m trapped there, helpless.
‘Get out of here,’ she snarls at me. ‘You’re fired, Georgia. Get the hell out.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Georgie’s list
Have a vindaloo on Brick Lane.
Take a Salsa class.
Do a skydive.
Go on a Tinder date.
Cycle around Hyde Park.
Run 10k.
Make the perfect Victoria sponge.
Go skinny-dipping in the sea.
Try skateboarding at Southbank.
Show Bianca your designs!
I bury my head in the cushion, my cheek squashed up against a corner, and my body draped across the sofa as if it’s made of lead.
I ran. After that, I ran. I didn’t let Bianca speak, I didn’t go back to get my things. I just ran. I had to. I didn’t know what else to do.
I scowl as another episode of Don’t Tell the Bride begins on the TV. I have been lying here for hours, drifting in and out of sleep, only peeling myself off the sofa to go to the toilet, and even that is a struggle. Then, every half an hour or so, when I think I’m finally able to face the crippling reality of today’s events, a wave of anxiety crashes over me and squeezes my throat with such force that I can barely breathe.
Today I was fired. Today I found out I slept with a married man.
I slept with a married man.
I pull my eyes away from the TV as I hear the front door click open, and I feel my body shrivel in dread.
Urgh, Tina.
I came back to the flat today for the first time since Brighton, and the entire living room was littered with a sea of cans and half-empty beer bottles with a rogue bra of mine hanging from the flickering kitchen light bulb.
Obviously I can’t reach it alone, and I am not risking balancing on another one of our kitchen chairs. My deposit can’t take another hit after the shower curtain fiasco.
I swing a flailing arm over the side of the sofa and hook the remote under two of my fingers and jab up the volume uninvitingly.
Hopefully, she’ll get the message and leave me alone.
I scowl at the TV as I hear the door creak open. My eyes flick towards the sound in irritation when, to my alarm, they land on Amy, pushing her way through in her wheelchair.
‘Amy!’ I cry, pulling myself up to sitting so fast that my entire blood flow rushes to my head.
Amy rolls through the door, and scowls down at the floor.
‘Please don’t tell me you drank all of this?’ she says in disgust.
I push the bottles out of the way, slumping back against the sofa cushions.
‘Of course I didn’t,’ I say. ‘What are you doing here? How did you get here?’
Amy wheels over to me and parks her chair next to the sofa so that my face is propped next to her armrest.
‘Tamal drove me over on his way to work,’ she says. ‘I used the spare key. What are you watching?’
‘Don’t Tell the Bride,’ I say, glueing my eyes back to the screen.
‘Surely you’ve seen every episode of this by now,’ Amy says.
I scowl in her direction. ‘Why are you here?’
Amy reaches into the side of her chair and pulls out a Diet Coke. She slots it in front of my face and I take it.
‘Sally called me,’ Amy says, and I hear the fizz as her can opens. ‘Wow, look at her dress.’
I pull myself up on to my elbows.
What?
‘Sally?’ I repeat in bewilderment.
Amy glances at me, sipping her Coke. ‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘she said something happened at work and you left crying.’
‘How . . .’ I manage, ‘how does she have your number?’
Amy shrugs. ‘We’ve been messaging about the run. She’s been helpful.’
I blink at Amy, winded by this news.
Amy has been messaging Sally?
‘So,’ Amy looks at me, ‘do you want to talk about it?’
‘No,’ I say childishly, flopping back down on to the sofa, my face squishing into the armrest.
‘Okay,’ she says, ‘well, I brought some supplies.’
My body twitches as I hear four light thumps. I look at the floor and notice Amy has dropped a cheesecake, a bottle of wine, two face packs and some ginormous slippers. My eyes scan the items as I feel an overpowering ball of emotion block my throat.
‘There are some benefits to this chair,’ Amy says lightly. ‘It has great storage.’
It’s our care package. It’s what me and Amy buy for each other whenever something has happened. We haven’t done it since Amy got sick.
‘Thank you,’ I manage, my voice thick.
I lie back down on the sofa as Amy moves her hand, and links it into mine. She squeezes my hand in hers and I feel the knot clenched around my stomach loosen.
‘Bianca saw my designs,’ I murmur into the sofa, my face burning at the memory.
Amy doesn’t move, her eyes still fixed on the TV. Her thumb strokes my hand.
‘And?’ she questions. ‘What did she think?’
My eyes burn as I force the words out of my mouth.
‘She fired me,’ I manage. ‘She hated them. Someone put them up in the pitching room and she thought I was trying to sabotage her.’
My head pounds as my eyes stream. I don’t know how I can still cry, there can’t be anything left inside me.
‘Oh, Georgie,’ Amy sighs. ‘That’s so unfair. Your designs are really good.’
I shake my head, defeated. ‘They’re not,’ I say. ‘She said so.’
Amy’s grip on my hand tightens. ‘She’s an idiot,’ she says fiercely. ‘Everyone always says how talented you are.’
‘Oh yeah?’ I grunt. ‘Like who?’
‘Me,’ Amy says, ‘and Mum and Dad, and Tamal, and Jack.’
‘He doesn’t count,’ I say bitterly, betrayal gripping my chest.
Amy looks down at me, her eyebrows raised. ‘What do you mean?’
I glance up at her. I slowly peel my wet face away from the sofa and hang my head in my hands. My heart flips over as I try and find the courage to say the words out loud.
‘He’s married,’ I say weakly. ‘He’s got a wife.’
Amy’s mouth falls open.
‘I don’t know what to do.’ The words tumble out of me. ‘I can’t believe I was so wrong about everything. I don’t even have a job any more. What am I supposed to do now? I’ve just wasted the last six months of my life.’
My face is wet again as my eyes leak tears down my cheeks. Suddenly, Amy twists her hand round my arm and yanks me upright. I stumble up ungracefully.
I always forget how strong she is.
‘You have not wasted anything,’ she says firmly, her fierce eyes staring into mine. ‘You have a
chieved things in the last few months that you never thought you could.’
Amy cups my face with her hand and wipes away my tears.
‘You have planned an incredible event,’ she continues, ‘and you’re going to raise a lot of money for a really important cause. Do you know how many people that will benefit? Because of what you are doing?’
The tight vice of worry clasped around my chest vanishes as a new feeling snakes through my body.
‘And most importantly,’ she says, her voice softening, ‘you’ve helped me. You’ve kept me afloat during the hardest time of my life. Those two arseholes may not be able to see it, but you have done some pretty incredible things, Georgie.’
I rest my head in her hand and Amy smiles. ‘You haven’t finished yet, either,’ she grins. ‘This run is going to be incredible.’
Amy looks into my eyes, and her kind face cues a fresh wave of tears that rise up inside me.
She tilts her head to one side. ‘What is it?’
I rub the tears off my face, my body crumpling like tissue paper at the relief of having Amy here.
‘I just . . .’ I manage, ‘I just don’t know what to do now. I feel like everything I thought I knew has been taken away from me.’
I pull my watery gaze up to Amy. She moves her hands and coils them around mine. My clammy hands relax under her strong grip, and her eyes shine back at me.
‘Sometimes,’ she says slowly, ‘life turns you upside down and you just have to keep moving. It can feel like you don’t know what to do, but that’s what I’m here for—’ she moves her hand back to my face as tears stream down my cheeks ‘And that’s what you do for me. It doesn’t mean life is over. We just find new things to do, together.’
Amy pinches my cheeks and I feel my face relax into a smile as I rest my head against her hand. The tight anxiety gripping my body starts to vanish.
Amy is all I need. She’s always been all I need.
Her eyes scan the room and her face scrunches up into a grimace.
‘Did Tina do this, then?’ she asks.
I flop my head back against the sofa and peer around the dank living room. Along with the dirty carpet, strewn with cans and bottles, there are several dark stains splashed up the walls and a bucket skulking ominously in the corner.
‘Yeah,’ I reply.
‘Why don’t you come back and live with us for a bit?’ Amy says. ‘I know you wanted to move out, but just until you get back on your feet?’
I shake my head and pull myself upright.
‘No,’ I say, ‘I can’t. I need to stay here. I can’t go backwards.’
Amy frowns. ‘But why is it moving backwards?’ she asks. ‘Are you honestly telling me that you would rather live here—’ she gestures towards the grey living room. ‘Than back at Mum and Dad’s, just for the sake of pride?’
My eyes flick up to her. ‘Yes,’ I lie.
Amy raises her eyebrows at me and I avoid her gaze.
Obviously, I want to go home. Of course I’d rather live back with my parents than in this dirty, rickety flat. I hate living here. But if I go back to live with my parents with no job, no relationship and no income then what will I have to show for the last year of my life? It will be like nothing ever happened.
‘So,’ Amy says tentatively, ‘if you’re staying here then you will need to pay rent.’
‘Yup.’
‘How will you do that?’
I try to squash the rush of anxiety that squirms up my body. ‘I will get a job,’ I say steadily, my eyes fixed on the TV, ‘in a bar or something.’
At this, Amy puffs loudly.
‘Right,’ she says, grabbing the remote and switching off the TV, ‘that’s enough. You’re coming home with me. I’m going to give you a job.’
Without the TV to distract me, I’m forced to look at Amy. I almost jump at the sight of her. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are narrowed with determination. Her lips have disappeared into a flat line and she is scowling at me.
This is the face she used to pull whenever she would try and force me to go to Zumba. I haven’t seen this face in ages.
I haven’t seen this face since Amy got ill.
‘You’ll give me a job?’ I repeat.
‘Yup!’ Amy nods fiercely. ‘Georgia Miller, you are now employed by Miller Enterprises. This is a fixed-term contract, from now until January.’
A small laugh tickles my chest and Amy’s face glows with satisfaction.
‘I’m not doing all your washing,’ I say, ‘or helping you peel lemons or whatever weird thing you like to do.’
Amy’s face quivers with laughter.
‘No,’ she says, pulling a mock stern face, ‘your sole job will be to assist me in planning this 10k event and making it a bloody huge success. This will include some weekend work – and you will be working alongside Amy Miller, your business partner, as a part of The Miller Project.’
At this, her mouth widens into a grin.
‘Do you accept?’
I look back at her, an identical grin spreading across my face. I can never say no to her.
‘I accept.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Running schedule:
04/08 1k (August is not the time to start running. Sweat patches are uncontrollable.)
10/09 2k (Actually isn’t that far at all. Who knew?)
05/10 3k (Am doing v. well. Kudos to me. I am superior to all. Bow to me, Usain.)
19/10 4k (Finishes right by Burger King! Coincidence?!?!)
13/11 5k (Christ)
16/11 6k (Life flashed before eyes. Can’t go on much longer. Go on without me, Mo.)
‘Hello, Georgia!’
I beam up at Hamish, our local baker and owner of The Loaf, the town’s independent bakery. Hamish has a mop of sand-coloured hair and a great moustache that tufts over his face and jiggles every time he laughs. He has been running the bakery ever since me and Amy were tiny.
‘How are you?’ he asks. ‘How’s the big smoke?’
‘Good,’ I respond, unwinding my scarf from my neck as the heat of the fresh pastries swirls around my face. ‘I’m back for a bit. I was wondering whether we could put some flyers in your window?’ I hold up my poster.
Hamish scowls at it and takes the poster from my hand.
‘What’s this?’
‘We’re holding a sponsored run,’ I say, ‘to raise money for MS.’
Hamish looks up. ‘Is that what Amy’s got?’
I nod. ‘Yeah. We’re trying to get sponsors, or donations or whatever.’
Hamish runs his eyes over the poster and then looks back at me. ‘Well, if you’re looking for donations, why don’t I hold a bake sale?’
I grin. ‘Really?’ I say. ‘That would be amazing. Thank you.’
Hamish puffs out his chest and nods. ‘My pleasure,’ he says, ‘it’s for a good cause. Leave a load of posters and leaflets, and I’ll put them in the window.’
I tease out a handful and place them on the counter. ‘Thank you so much,’ I gush.
I buy a packet of iced buns and push my way out of the door and on to the quiet high street, a welcome change from the high street of Elephant and Castle.
Amy took me home with her that night. I currently have seven missed calls from Jack, three from Natalie and a text from Sally. I can’t face any of them. Not yet.
I stop in my tracks as I reach the corner shop and smile as I see Mrs Felix, perched behind the counter and doing the crossword. My heart swells at the sight of her. Everyone knows everyone here. It was Amy’s idea to go into town to try and put up the posters.
‘Hello, Georgia,’ Mrs Felix says kindly. ‘Nice to see you.’
I smile at her as I shut the door behind me. ‘Hello, Mrs Felix,’ I say. ‘How are you?’
Mrs Felix nods and puts her crossword down and standing up. ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ she says. ‘How are you? How is Amy?’
‘Actually,’ I say, pulling the poster from my bag, ‘that’s why I�
�m here. We’re holding a sponsored run at The Elmrud School next month, to raise money for the MS Society. I wanted to see if you could put some posters up to spread the word?’
Mrs Felix takes the poster from me as her face stretches into a smile.
‘Oh yes!’ she says. ‘I think my grandson is running. He goes to the school. Give them to me—’ she gestures at my hands, clasping the posters, and I hand her more. ‘Of course I’ll put them up and spread the word. What a great cause. Are you running?’
I nod, smiling. ‘Yeah. I think a few of us are.’
Mrs Felix smiles. ‘Good for you,’ she says.
I thank her and leave the shop, feeling a glow of satisfaction. Last time I checked, we had raised almost £15,000. I slip the last few posters into my bag and make my way to my parents’ house. When I get back, Tamal is in the living room with Amy, who is cuddled up on the sofa next to him.
‘Hi,’ I say, as I walk into the living room.
Amy’s face lights up as she sees me.
‘Hey,’ she says. ‘How did it go?’
I drop on to the floor, cross-legged, and grin. ‘Really well,’ I say. ‘Hamish is going to do a bake sale, Mrs Felix took posters, and the barbers and the wine shop said they’d contribute to the raffle.’
Tamal squeezes Amy’s shoulder. ‘Amazing!’ he says.
‘And,’ I press on, ‘I think we’re on about fifteen thousand now.’
‘Seventeen!’ Tamal quips.
‘We just checked,’ Amy grins. ‘We’ve just hit seventeen thousand pounds.’
I beam at them.
£17,000!
‘How are you feeling about the run itself?’ Tamal teases. ‘Reckon you’re ready?’
Amy slaps him playfully on the arm. ‘Of course she is!’ she says. ‘She’ll smash it.’
I smile gratefully, when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and scowl at an unknown number.
Who is that?
I quickly scurry out of the room and up to my old bedroom.
‘Hello?’ I answer.
‘Hello? Sorry. Left! LEFT! Hello? Hello?’
I jump as a racket of noise cannonballs into my ear. Who on earth is this?
The List That Changed My Life Page 20