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that the initial payment would be made on the first of March.

He’d put a bar on my account so I couldn’t use the card, and encouraged me to cut it up once and for all so I wouldn’t have to go through this again in the future. Through my tears I’d done it, furiously snipping the plastic into tiny pieces and throwing what remained into the depths of the kitchen bin, so it could fester with the scooped-out avocado skins and half a punnet of organic strawberries that had gone mouldy because I’d forgotten they needed eating.

I knew lifestyle changes would have to be made. Nights on the town followed by a taxi home had to stop, as did the habit of buying something new to wear every time we went out. It had become almost competitive between Tawna and me over the years, but the time had come for me to bow out. I couldn’t compete anymore. Tawna and Johnny shared a bank account, and Johnny’s business had really taken off, even winning him the prestigious title of “North East Businessperson of the Year” two years on the bounce. He bought her anything she wanted knowing that having nice things made her happy. Money wasn’t a problem for them, but it was for me. It was a bloody massive problem for me.

I pulled my diary out of my everyday bag and flicked to a blank page. Other people managed to live on my wage, so it had to be possible. It’d just take a bit of planning, that’s all, a few little cutbacks to get out of the red and into the black.

I picked up the pen, and started to budget.

March

Chapter 4

“Are you sure I can’t twist your arm? You’re not doing that thing where you hide away again, are you?”

I’d made excuses not to go out with Tawna and Eve for two Saturdays in a row. The first week had been easy. I’d told them I had one of my migraines and needed an early night, and they’d left me alone to recuperate. By the time nine o’clock had rolled around I’d climbed into bed with my laptop, logged into Netflix and settled down to watch Gilmore Girls for the millionth time. Lorelai and Rory always cheered me up, not least because their lives were as messed up as my own.

“Honestly, I’m fine, and I promise I’m not hiding away with my glue gun like I did when I split up with Darius. I’m just tired.”

It wasn’t an out-and-out lie, I was tired, but I also wasn’t ready to share my financial struggles with my friends. They wouldn’t understand. At best they’d smile sympathetically, at worst they’d offer me pity-loans. Either way, I wasn’t up to it, but Eve continued to try to persuade me to join them, which was why I shared the other reason I’d rather stay home. “And as much as I love her, I can’t face listening to Tawna talking about colour schemes and whether roses or peonies are the more timeless choice when it comes to wedding flowers. Since Johnny popped the question the only thing she talks about is the wedding.”

“She’s happy,” Eve replied, and I swore I could hear her shrugging.

“I know, and I’m happy for her too, truly. But sometimes it feels like we’re having the same conversations over and over again, and the wedding’s not until August bank holiday! She’s still nagging me about getting a date in the diary to try on bridesmaids dresses too.”

“You’ll be exactly the same when your time comes. Every bride wants their wedding day to be flawless.”

“I don’t think my day’s ever going to come.”

I clamped the phone awkwardly between my shoulder and my ear as I opened the kitchen cupboard to see what delights awaited me for tea. There had been baked beans galore since the phone call with the credit card company, and a fair bit of pasta. Whatever was cheap, basically.

I craved pizza loaded with mushrooms, sweetcorn and red onion, but the freezer was empty and no way was I going to cave and spend on takeaway. My credit card payment on the first of March had been made (and was well over the agreed minimum repayment, because my knee-jerk reaction to sell a nearly-new pair of Louboutins on Depop had paid off) and I liked to think of nice-guy Guy sticking a celebratory sticker on a wall chart to mark my achievement (and I stuck my middle finger up to the woman who had made me cry, as though making the payment was a 1:0 victory to me). Saving money was a test, but watching the amount I owed decrease, albeit slowly, was already satisfying. I’d even converted to an online account so I could log in and check my balance. It was helping me stay focused.

“Your day will come,” Eve promised, “but first you need to meet Mr Right.”

“I used to think Darius was my Mr Right.”

Eve snorted.

“I know he wasn’t perfect…”

“He was far from perfect, Soph.”

“…but we did have a lot of good times together.”

And oh, had the good times been good. The lazy Sunday mornings, where he’d nuzzled his nose into the back of my neck before kissing the spot behind my ear that turned me on so much I’d thought I was going to explode. The quickies on the sofa. The things he could do with that magic tongue of his …

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to come out? Just one little drink? I don’t like to think of you home alone, especially if you’re brooding over that twat Darius.”

“I’m sure,” I said, closing the cupboard door and deciding to have a bowl of cereal rather than a hot meal. Nothing in the cupboard appealed and anyway, I couldn’t be bothered messing about with the oven. “I have a bowl of Coco Pops and a hot date with Milo Ventimiglia planned.”

“Cereal and Gilmore Girls on a Friday night? That’s such a

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