Page 33 of Dirty Tactics

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‘Holly,’ Dad called through the door. ‘Jen’s here. Do you want me to let her in?’

‘No,’ Holly replied, her voice muffled from the duvet over her head. She pawed at her phone, retrieving it from her bedside table. 7 a.m.. Who the heck calls at someone’s house this early?

‘Can I come in?’ Dad asked, rapping his knuckles gently on the doorframe.

‘If you must.’

The door creaked open and in popped Dad, still in his pyjamas, the little hair he had sticking up at odd angles and his face shadowed in white stubble.

He slowly sat on the bed, his muscles still waking up. Holly didn’t budge from her position, buried under her covers.

‘Very early for a visitor.’

‘I didn’t know she was coming,’ Holly snapped. Her eyes were puffy and her chest still tight from the tears she had shed the night before.

‘I wasn’t having a go at you,’ Dad assured, placing his hand on the lump in the covers that was her leg. ‘I’m just saying, she must really want to talk to you if she’s here so early.’

It was a fair point but one Holly wasn’t for awarding. ‘I still don’t want to see her.’

Dad was quiet. She pulled the duvet down a fraction and watched him sleepily rub at his eyes. He’d have to get ready for work soon. ‘Do you not think it would be good to hear her out?’

‘I don’t know what else there is to hear.’

Jen’s texts and voicemails basically said the same thing: Alison kissed her and she was sorry.

Sorry she got caught.

Would she have been honest if Holly hadn’t caught them? Something told her yes. Which made the decision harder, but it had to be done. She’d been too soft and forgiving before. Never again.

Dad stood, his knees popping like candy. ‘Right, I’d better go tell her you’re not up for visitors.’ He stopped short of the door. ‘Any messages you want me to pass on?’

The words she wanted to use weren’t Dad-appropriate. ‘Tell her I need space.’

‘Space. Right. Got it.’

He closed the door and a fresh wave of tears spilled. She’d moved past anger and grief. Now, pure embarrassment washed over her.

Not just caused by Jen. Alison, too. She’d looked at Holly and thought she would be easy to get rid of, that it was no big deal to completely fuck her over.

Holly growled with frustration.

Moving back to Glasgow was meant to be about starting again, not repeating mistakes. Maybe she was stuck in an endless cycle of being second best. She could be happy single. Plenty of people were. Anything would be better than feeling like this.

The tears stopped as quickly as they started, her eyes likely fed up with producing the damn things.

She wiped her face on her pillow before propping it against the headboard and sitting up.

Time to brave her phone.

She was in the middle of reading a message from Chloe when it buzzed to life, a call incoming from Jen.

Holly stabbed at the redend callbutton.

Now wasn’t the time for pleading phone conversations.

There was nothing Jen could say to make Holly see her face to face.