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Unable to resist, I grab my phone and text Oliver to say thanks for getting us all home last night and that I hope to see him soon. I stare at the phone for ages, but he doesn’t reply. He’s probably still asleep. I quickly send another text apologising for our awful behaviour, saying that he doesn’t have to see me soon after all. Not if he doesn’t want to.

Nothing.

Now I think about it, it might be best to leave him to cool off. I notice a string of Instagram alerts and click to see what’s going on.

Feck.

Ava has drunk posted a string of videos on her socials from last night. There’s one of her with deely boppers on her head and her arm slung around Squinty the Welsh rugby captain with some blurb about how she is cheering the team on, hashtag winning at life, hashtag live your best life. As if she is the life coach behind their success! They both look pissed as newts. It’s nothing short of a mockery.

I keep swiping. There’s one of Oliver giving Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen the fireman’s lift out of the club, hashtag my fire fighter hero. Lord knows who must have taken the video – me? There’s one of Ava looking adoringly up at Oliver, hashtag fanny magnet. It’s already had over a thousand likes, and several replies saying what a cute couple, and many more saying they would do him. OMG, there’s a reply from Milly-May, ordering Ava to send him around, as he can put her fire out any day of the week!

Then there’s one of Oliver looking annoyed, yet extremely handsome, with neon lights highlighting several hairy bums in the background, and a caption saying he simply can’t get enough of these guys. And even more replies than before from men paying him lots of compliments.

I flick through a string of embarrassing photos of me looking worse for wear with my arm slung drunkenly around an assortment of rugby players. There’s one with a cigarette dangling from my lips that looks suspiciously like a joint (How? When?), one with me standing on a bar stool about to fall off, and finally, there’s one of me sitting on Squinty’s broad shoulders with a rose between my teeth, and waving what could be a pair of knickers around (mine?). Ava has written that she’s very proud of her big sister and how I have managed to bounce back from professional disaster and disgrace and for everyone to come on my singles coach trip, where I will hashtag find love for you all, hashtag love coach hashtag coach trip. Every word is spelt wrong except our website address. And she’s tagged in Milly-May and Ryan Reynolds!

I hardly know whether to laugh or cry, it’s so ridiculous. But one thing I know for sure is that it is a mammoth relief to know the truth about Ava. And it was the best night out I think we’ve ever had. Even MJ had a blast.

As I’m looking at an image of Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen being held upside down over a bucket of beer, a cold realisation dawns. What if Nidi sees how we are carrying on? What if Oliver sees that he’s been posted all over the internet?

Once my hair is dried and my make-up is on, I’m ready for some water and ibuprofen, and I might even manage a hot water with lemon. Didn’t Endless Cloud say the slice of lemon detoxes your whole system or something? Or was that the apple cider vinegar?

The whole place is in darkness. I can just make out my sister and Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen sprawled on the two sofas, covered in a blanket each. Oliver must have done that while I was looking for ingredients to make him a chickpea and flax seed pancake. I’m not sure why that popped into my head, considering the fact that I have never once thought to cook one in my entire life. But I do recall eyeing his taut muscular body up and down, before deciding he must be a real health food enthusiast, and that I would make him a spectacular vegan supper for his trouble.

I’m not sure, but I think I remember him saying a firm ‘You will do nothing of the sort’ before taking the frying pan off me.

Oh God, how embarrassing.

Why? Why? Why? My chakras are going to need some serious unblocking.

29

As I let myself in to the office, the phone rings immediately. I am barely through the door. I’m only two steps into the hallway. I pick up the post from the floor and race along to reception. My eyes are already burning into my sockets with tiredness. I must have only slept for four hours at the most.

Is it too much to bloody ask that I have two fucking minutes of peace and quiet so that I can tap my third eye? Is it? Is it?

I reach out to answer the phone and it stops ringing.

Good.

I open the post and see one of the envelopes is from the Quick Qualify company and rip it open. My Life Coach Certificate has finally arrived, but I’m too shattered to even give myself a little whoop whoop, never mind frame it and hang it on the wall.

I quickly check to see if Ryan Reynolds has any allergies that I should know of. He hasn’t. I check my phone to see if Oliver has texted. He hasn’t. I rub a couple of crystals and tap my base chakra to loosen the hangover. It doesn’t work. The book says I should release any blockages before I do anything meaningful. I quickly grab the gong and ding it a few times.

I must stay focused. I have an event to sort out that has run wildly out of control and I have two helpers who are currently of no use to me whatsoever.

I quickly click on our Instagram and TikTok accounts and slump back in my seat.

OMG. Nidi’s Life Coaching social media is now as bad as Ava’s.

There’s one picture after another of drunken cross-eyed rugby players cavorting with the hen party. Several photos of a scantily clad Ava, with a pondering look, hashtag life, what’s it all about? And many, many memes of kittens with sad eyes. Kittens!

How am I supposed to work like this? How?

The bookings are a shambles. I have no idea who is coming in or when. Half of the bookings are for the wrong time anyway. There are no notes. No notes! No payment records. Nothing!

Nidi has been gone barely a week and I have single-handedly ruined her business. I wonder if Ryan has these same worries when he is running his production company or his Welsh football team? Probably. I wonder if I should message him. I decide not to. Even I can see that this fantasy escapism of mine is a mere disguise for procrastination and truth avoidance.

The singles event, my missing redundancy payout and the client payments must be dealt with today. I will start by laying out and rubbing my green crystals. It should help me visualise my financial goals.