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couldn’t think of a single thing to do so I formulated an interim plan which was to get absolutely, completely shitfaced.
    *
    I was fully in drunk crying mode by the time Steph and Sinead answered my distress calls and arrived at the flat.
    ‘Where the hell did you get this mangy cat from, Fiona?’ asked Steph. I was sprawled on the sofa, in a dressing gown and I was hugging the cat. I’d scooped him up from the step when I arrived home and hadn’t really put him down since.
    Sinead was on the floor painting toe nails on my left foot; Steph was next to her, fake tanning my right leg in an attempt to get me ‘‘holiday ready’’.
    ‘But what am I going to do?’ I wailed. I slurped wine from my Cath Kidston mug and Sinead and Steph swapped places, I extended my left leg and they continued to work.
    ‘It could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Fiona,’ soothed Sinead. ‘Connor will understand, you can still get the apartment. You said you wanted a change anyway. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.’
    ‘Why do they have to come in disguises? What about my plan? I wanted to stick to my plan.’
    ‘Yes, but you said you hated it there.’ said Steph. ‘You can get another job,’
    ‘But how I am going to tell Connor? Everything is falling apart!’ Then I started to cry again. More drunk tears, and lots of them.
    ‘Don’t!’ Steph warned, as Sinead moved forward to hug me. ‘We can’t have you streaking. Quick. Hold a towel under her chin, in case of drips. Fiona, don’t freak out, hold it together until your legs are dry.’
    ‘Don’t cry, Fiona, it will all be okay,’ said Sinead. ‘It will all be fine in the morning.’
    ‘Keep holding that towel, Sinead. Now Fiona, I want you to listen to me very carefully, do you understand?’ She was talking to me like she was a paramedic and I’d had a very serious accident. ‘Can you hear me, Fiona?’
    ‘Yesh,’ I said.
    ‘We have to fake tan your arms now, do you understand?’
    ‘I do,’ I said.
    ‘Okay stand up, arms stretched out.’
    I obeyed her. I stood up, a bit wobbly. Sinead was still holding the towel under my chin. Steph got to work as I held my arms out. I felt sleepy.
    ‘Stay with me Fiona,’ shouted Steph as she applied the tan to my arms.
    ‘Yes, only a few minutes longer,’ encouraged Sinead
    ‘Keep those eyes open.’
    I could barely keep my eyes open and I couldn’t keep my arms up. It would be sensible for all if I went to sleep.
    *
    It was morning when I woke up, and I was disorientated. I was in the living room in my dressing grown, using a big bath towel as a duvet. I remembered Steph’s instructions to stay awake for the sake of my arms. I took a peak at them – bit streaky but not bad. Then I remembered the events of the day before and my stomach lurched with anxiety. I remembered I hadn’t eaten anything yesterday. In the fridge were all the meals that Connor had dived into a couple of days ago and I emptied them into the bin.
    There was also a pizza box that Steph and Sinead had obviously shared, so I took the last slice and ate it.
    My clothes horse had been put up with all my washing done, and Steph had hung all my new clothes out and put little colour coded Post-its on them, indicating what to wear with what, each day. She had also got my old suitcase from the cupboard and placed my new wedges in there.
    And I had managed to refrain from drunk dialling so at least I hadn’t called Connor. But he hadn’t called me or texted me either. I thought maybe eating a pizza for my breakfast was my lowest point, but then I saw Sinead and Steph had been shopping for holiday snacks and I scarfed down a couple of sausage rolls and a handful of cocktail sausages.
    I was startled that the cat was still around and threw him a cocktail sausage which he turned his nose up at. Then stalked over to the window, which I opened to let him out. I sat down on a kitchen school, wondering how it had all come to this and