Page 12 of Shout Out To My Ex

Show at Paris/New York/London/Milan Fashion Week

Cover of Nouveau

‘Taylor Swift?’ Cassie teases. ‘And what’s with this?’ she asks, pointing to number five. ‘Too lazy to write out your biggest dreams as separate items?’

I snap the planner shut and stand – or I try to, as I now have pins and needles in both feet. I hobble to the bed and sit on the edge. ‘Ow, ow, ow.’ I wince as I stretch my feet against the rug.

‘I hate that,’ says Cass, commiserating.

‘Yeah, worth it though. I found it,’ I say, both grimacing and smiling as I hold up the planner.

‘It’s a good list, Elle. And in a fortnight, you’ll be able to tick off number five – well, part of it.’

‘I might swap out Topshop for Harvey Nicks, though,’ I say, wiggling my toes as the last of the numbness finally recedes.

‘And Taylor Swift?’

‘Tay Tay stays.’

‘Could you at least add Florence Pugh or Elle Fanning?’

‘Fine. Now, I just need five minutes to shower and get dressed.’ When I look up, she’s smirking. ‘Fifteen minutes then.’

‘I’ll make you some Marmite toast for the walk.’

I stand and smack a kiss on her cheek. ‘You’re the best.’

‘And brush your teeth. Your breath stinks.’

Ahh, the joys of living with your sister.

‘You should frame that,’ says Prue.

‘Definitely,’ Zara agrees.

‘Really?’ I ask. The five of us are crowded around one of the cutting tables, all eyes trained on my first-year study planner. ‘I’m not sure I want to tear out the page.’

‘Could just scan it,’ says Gaz, our pattern designer and resident techy. They reach past me and pick up the planner to examine it more closely. ‘Yeah, I reckon scan it, print it… Easy peasy.’

Just then, a Polaroid falls out of the planner and flutters to the ground. My stomach plummets as Gaz picks it up. I know exactly what that is, even though I’d forgotten it was there.

‘Ooh, who’s the cutie then?’ They hand the photo around to the rest of the team, eliciting a collective ‘aww’.

‘Elle, you’re just a baby!’ exclaims Prue. ‘How old are you? Sixteen?’

‘And who’s the bloke?’ asks Zara. ‘He’s proper fit, he is.’

I signal for Gaz to give me the photo, even though there’s no way I’m going to look at it.

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