Page 18 of Little Miss Fortune

Borsch is Ukrainian: Omg, go on, what’s the damage?

Rice box from Leon: Linked.in

I click on the link and scan through. Bloody hell!

FUK yo self: Fucking hell, an Oxford boy.

Borsch is Ukrainian: Fuko! You’re alive!!!

Borsch is Ukrainian: WTF, I think his dad is in big oil.

Rice box from Leon: Well, that’s a step up from your usual programme, Sashka. He is definitely not ketchup.

Ketchup is a group term derived from a time I forgot the English word for stingy and instead said the Japanese ketchi, which both misheard as ketchup.

FUK yo self: Oo-la-la, no more artists or DJs.

Rice box from Leon: I liked Sven.

Borsch is Ukrainian: Please don’t.

FUK yo self: Shirt-Man’s mum is on some charity trust.

Borsch is Ukrainian: Where did you see that?

FUK yo self: Found her Facebook

She looks good for her age, possibly because she checks into a dermatological clinic that advertises fillers, dermarollers, and laser skin resurfacing once a month. What the fuck is that, and when will I need to do it? Thank you, Facebook, for being so public with information. There is a picture of three of them and another girl, who I assume is Toby Lewis’s sister. The children look more like their father, but the bottom parts of their faces look more like their mother’s. Toby’s dad’s hair is grey; mum’s is dyed warm brown, so it is hard to tell who is responsible for the strawberry-blond gene.

Hanako and I look very different. She is a head taller than I am and looks so much like our mother. Dad notices it too, because sometimes when he looks at her a tear forms in the corner of his eye. Never quite escapes but is always there. I look nothing like either of my parents but also comprise random scraps from the two, like an old Suzuki wagon that was rebuilt from other Suzuki models. The car parts back then all fit together to save customers a lot of money in repairs. I feel like one of those cars—perhaps not the prettiest, but with so many things fitting in, I will find a way to drive off into the sunset, eventually.

Rice box from Leon: Sashka, who do you think is richer, Mr. Big Oil Senior or your dad?

Borsch is Ukrainian: It’s not about the money.

FUK yo self: No, but can you imagine the wedding?

Rice box from Leon: Hmm, do you think it would be more or less extravagant than Harry and Meghan’s?

Borsch is Ukrainian:

FUK yo self: Depends, how many boats are going to get involved?

Rice box from Leon: Boats? Pfff, please. Peasant talk, Fuko. Planes.

FUK yo self: Tanks?

Rice box from Leon: Now we are cooking with gas, which is lucky for Sashka. She will have an endless supply of it thanks to Big Oil.

Borsch is Ukrainian:

FUK yo self: Praise to Big Oil!

Rice box from Leon: Down with the polar bears and the penguins.

FUK yo self: Let us know how the date goes, ha ha.

Borsch is Ukrainian: You two are so annoying.