Page 100 of Shout Out To My Ex

‘All right, love, don’t get your knickers in a knot,’ one says.

I round on him with a glare so potent it could strip paint. He raises his hands in conciliation, and I hold his gaze a moment longer. But, of course, as soon as I turn around, he mutters, ‘Must be that time of month,’ to his peers and they all snigger. Toads.

Inside the fashion house, it sounds like I’ve wandered into a wildlife sanctuary. There’s wailing (Elle), cooing (Cassie), and bleating (Zara). Two other staff members I’ve yet to meet are chattering at the back of the workroom like a pair of budgerigars.

My appearance in the doorway silences everyone, including the two budgies at the back.

‘Poppy!’ Zara bleats. ‘What are you doing here?’

I can only imagine where her mind has gone – amid the media mayhem, here comes the journo from the world-renowned fashion magazine.

‘It’s all right, Zara,’ says Cassie, ushering her past me. ‘We were expecting Poppy.’

Zara’s panicked eyes ping between me, Cassie, and Elle, who is slumped on the sofa, her head in her hands. I flash Zara my warmest smile but that seems to make it worse. Seeming bereft, she wanders over to her colleagues, who gather her into a group hug.

You’d think someone had died.

I face Cassie. ‘Mind if I…?’ I ask. She stands aside, then closes the office door behind me.

‘You may as well show her,’ says Elle, her voice muffled by her hands.

‘Show me what?’ What couldpossiblyhave happened in the hour it took me to get here?

Cassie holds out her phone.

‘From today,’ she says.

On the screen is a series of poor-quality (but irrefutable) photos of Elle and Leo in this very spot, taken through the front window of Bliss Designs – close proximity, intense eye contact, and in one, they appear to be holding hands.

Fuck me, this case has more twists and turns than Nemesis at Alton Towers! (I will never forgive Shaz for making me ride it. ‘It’ll be fun’ my arse!)

I hand back the phone to Cassie and we lock eyes. The very first time I met her, she said that Elle could never know she’d engaged the Ever After Agency. If successful, Elle’s reunion with Leo had to seem organic, happenstance,kismet.

But we appear to be way past pretending this is fate. For the first time in my career as a matchmaker, I might have to lift the curtain. But before I can ask Cassie for a word in private, there’sa knock at the door. One of the staff I’ve yet to meet is standing there, seeming apologetic but determined.

‘Yes, Prue?’ Cassie asks wearily as she opens the door.

Poor Cassie. After this case is closed – no matter which way it plays out – I hope she’s planned a long and luxurious holiday.

‘Um, we were just thinking, with the paps outside and all…’ Cassie blinks at her, waiting patiently for her to get on with it. ‘What if me and Elle swapped clothes? I’m the closest to her in looks, see? A bit taller but we wear the same size and we’re both blondes and all.’

I glance between Prue and Elle, weighing up their similarities –andtheir differences, namely Prue’s outfit, a Harajuku-style, wildly patterned pair of pyjamas (or what look like PJs) worn with mid-calf, light-purple Dockers.

They could actually pull this off. The paps may be wily, but Elle wouldn’t be the first person to deceive them with a decoy.

Elle lifts her face from her hands. It’s blotchy and red and she’s obviously been crying – tears of frustration, no doubt, as my experience of Elle Bliss is that she’s no wilting violet.

‘Elle?’ asks Cassie. ‘What do you think?’

Elle sniffles and her expression brightens. ‘I think you’re a genius, Prue. But do you really want photographers following you home?’

‘I’m not going home, see. Me and my mates are heading out.’ She then walks us through an itinerary for the evening that’s so extensive, I’m exhausted just hearing about it. ‘And then my mate, Zsa Zsa, is DJing at this club in Camden but their set don’t start till one, see, so I won’t be home till at least three.’

On a school night?I think, appalled – mostly because at thirty-six, I already think like my mum.

‘But do you really want to go out looking like this?’ Elle asks, gesturing at her outfit: jeans and a T-shirt with a baseball cap perched on her head.

‘Might be fun to go out as a “normal”,’ Prue replies, as if she hasn’t just insulted three people. ‘We just need to switch outfits and I’ll borrow Gaz’s dark sunglasses. We’ll be right as rain.’

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