Page 17 of Little Miss Fortune

‘Oh, yes, baby,’ he whispers to the tin too intimately, making me feel as if I’m intruding on something. ‘Let’s see.’

The lid pops, revealing a single remaining square of cheesecake. ‘Last one’s on me.’ He gestures towards our laptops and waits for me to sit down properly. ‘Seana made it, so you know it’s good. I hope you’re ready to get your mind blown.’

‘Seana... The one with the 5 percent salary increase?’

‘Ugh, Steven.’ He tuts and shakes his head.

‘Thanks.’

I did miss breakfast, so I bite straight in. Seana has money, and her hands are made of gold. God, is she married? Because I am ready to go down on one knee. It is the best cheesecake I’ve ever had. The biscuit base is crunchy and sweet.

Huh, why is it so crunchy?

‘How is it?’ Toby leans on the desk, waiting for my response.

‘I feel like it will make at least one of your wishes come true,’ I say, reaching for my bag and throwing its embarrassing contents on the ground in a frenzy.

‘Huh?’

‘You know how you wanted some action? Can you call 999 for me?’ I smile, stabbing myself in the leg with an EpiPen, as I feel my airways closing up. ‘I’m going to bet she used that 5 percent to buy almonds.’

I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, having an allergic reaction on your first day and being carried away in a stretcher, or getting a message from your best friend hours later, telling you that her date for this weekend has collected your extra absorbent period pad and extra pair of socks from the office floor and will return them next time you’re in.

Either way, a terrible first impression, Fuko.

CHAPTER 5

Sometimes Fuko needs to make a mess

Steven calls me the next day to inform me that the office has become a no-nut zone. I am very adult about it and don’t giggle at the name. Some could say my allergy connotes big misfortune because of the high likelihood of dying from a common food; however, I am only allergic to one nut. Plus, both the UK and Japan are good at listing almonds as an allergen, so I am usually quite vigilant.

This was just slightly unfortunate.

‘In my defence, who puts almonds in cheesecake?’

My sister and dad sit on my bed, watching me eat plain white toast. Hannah is still in her sixth form uniform, looking at me with a lot of judgement for worrying her during her exam period.

My sister has big luck. She has always been at the top of her class despite never really doing homework and has won a few awards for maths. She’s pretty and popular despite her lack of sleep from watching let’s plays on YouTube. And she got her driver’s licence after only two lessons. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s won an online lottery for a stationery giveaway or K-pop tickets.

‘You know you need to be careful with desserts, you twat,’ she snaps at me.

‘Oi, Hanako, enough,’ Dad says, shaking a cross finger. ‘Go do something more useful for once.’

‘Roll your skirt down. You go to a Catholic sixth form, for god’s sake.’ I use the Lord’s name in vain, annoyed at being told off by my younger sibling.

Not that I actually care what length her skirt is. I used to roll mine up.

Luckily, her presence is fleeting Dad kicks her out and clicks his tongue when the girl pulls a reverse peace sign at me, which has a very different meaning in this country. I would normally run after her to show dominance, but the adrenaline shot really takes it out of you. Steven gave me tomorrow off, so I can rest over the upcoming weekend.

‘I have made some miso soup as well. Give me a shout, and I’ll get you a bowl.’

‘Thanks, Dad,’ I say, rolling my face deep into the pillows.

This isn’t how I wanted this to go. My first day was meant to be normal: sitting at the desk, filling out some forms, doing online training about phishing e-mails and scam links. Instead, I’ve spent eight hours at the hospital, vomiting my guts out with an IV drip in my arm.

Sashka and Leon sent some messages on the group chat earlier, but I don’t have the energy needed to respond to any of them. The messages keep coming through. After another notification interrupts my mindless scrolling, I cave.

Rice box from Leon: Ladies, not to alarm you, but I think I have found Shirt-Man’s LinkedIn.