Page 110 of Swept Away

“Try the red,try the red,” Penny says, draping a dress on top of the enormous pile of clothes that I’m clutching in both arms.

“Red makes me look stressed,” I tell her.

It’s the first day of school. After dropping a very excited Mae at the gate in her adorable new uniform, we fled from the eager-eyed parents we already knew from preschool, all desperate for gossip about my misadventures—I can’t imagine what it was like! That Ezekiel, he’s so handsome, isn’t he!—and have come to the high street to find me an outfit for my TV appearance.

I am not the sort of person who has a TV appearance. Or an “outfit,” to be honest. I just have clothes, vaguely assembled in a combination that allows me to cover up the maximum number of stains and worn-out bits.

“I’m not sure it’s the color palette, Lex. I think it’s all the stress that’s making you look stressed, probably? Here, take this one as well.”

“Is this secretly a workout?” I ask, hefting the clothes into a new position, arm muscles groaning. “Have you actually brought me shopping to try to make me exercise by stealth?”

“You need options!” Penny says.

There’s something frenetic about Penny today. She’s always been an emotional person, but lately she seems to be swinging from one extreme to the other several times a day. She’s not sleeping well—the other night I woke from a nightmare about the rig crumbling away beneath Zeke, and I went downstairs and found Penny crying quietly over a glass of milk in the kitchen. It turns out she’d had a nightmare, too. I know these things will happen to me—I accept that. But why are they happening to her, too?Maybe it’s sympathy pains, she’d told me, pulling me in for a hug, and I’d held her tightly, wishing I could take away the pain I’ve caused her.

“I would never wear that,” I say, examining the pale pink dress Penny has pulled from a rail and is holding critically at her eye level. “It’s not me.”

She smiles.

“What?”

“You’re totally right, it’s not, it’s way more me than you,” Penny says, shoving it back. “But I feel like two months ago you wouldn’t have said that. You’d have just asked me which makes you look best. Now. How about this, then?”

She pulls out a jumpsuit. It’s black, structured, with a tuxedo-style front that ties at the waist. It’ll suit my curves, which are slowly returning now that I’m back to snacks and square meals, and the sharpness of its lines appeals to me. It’s a no-nonsense jumpsuit. Dressed-up, but badass.

“Look at your face,” Penny says, beaming. “This is the one.”

“It’s too expensive,” I say, getting close enough to read the label. “I don’t want to try it on.”

“I’ll pay!” Penny says, already walking toward the changing room.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, “you’re not buying me a jumpsuit for three hundred quid.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, because you don’thavethree hundred quid to spend on jumpsuits for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” she says, turning so suddenly I almost walk into her. Her expression is oddly fierce. “You know that, right? I know I’m not perfect, but I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, and—”

“Penny!”

She’s started to cry.

“Oh my God, what’s goingonwith you?” I pull her away from the women waiting outside the changing rooms, who are eyeing us with curious interest. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” she says, wiping her face furiously. “I’m fine! I just want you to be OK. And I’m worried you’re…” She looks up at me, searching. “You are OK, aren’t you, Lexi?”

“Of course,” I say. “Of course I am! You know me. Tough as old boots.”

“About that man…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “About Zeke…”

I stiffen, glancing toward the changing rooms. “The queue’s gone down,” I say, but she catches my arm.

“Did anything happen with you two?”

“Well, we got lost at sea…”

“I mean, I know you took him back to the houseboat. Or he took you back to the houseboat, since it was his, or—whatever. But after that first night. You didn’t like him like that, did you?”

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