In the space of ten seconds, Rae’s stomach turned to lead.
She squeezed her phone tight—so tight that her fingers paled and the touchscreen display took on a strange, rainbow cast. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her blood seemed to prickle in her veins.
She’d woken up especially anxious that morning and had messaged Marilyn about the convention during a moment of weakness. But really, what had she expected? Maternal advice, reassurance, support? “Idiot,” Rae muttered through bloodless lips. “Absolute idiot.”
This was all feelings ever got her. From the sour, murdered love between Kevin and her to the toxic, twisted thing between her and her mother, Rae should know by now that seeking comfort came with a price.
She loosened her grip on the phone and pushed her tongue against the scar on the inside of her cheek, her private talisman. After a few deep breaths, she typed out a response.
I didn’t lose him, I left him.
No. It sounded defensive, and Marilyn thought Rae was weak for leaving Kevin, anyway, and… Rae sighed and tried again.
I’m not whining, I just
No.
I put plenty of effort
Delete. That would only cause an argument. In fact, any response that wasn’t obsequious and self-flagellating would cause an argument, and Rae’s stomach was already churning at the thought of her mother’s call. She could almost hear the quiet, razor-sharp words couched as straight-talking concern, draped in affection like sheep’s clothing. Ugh. She didn’t have time for this.
Something heavy and warm landed in her lap. She looked down to discover that Duke had abandoned his sloppy rehydration-fest to come and see her. Rae set her phone aside and slid from the chair to the cold kitchen floor, wrapping her arms around her monster of a dog. His nose snuffled, wet and supportive, against her neck.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she murmured. “If we didn’t talk to Mother at all, she couldn’t bother us.” Easier said than done, though. Easier said than done. Forty long years, and part of Rae was still waiting hopefully for her mother to change.
Sometimes, she hated that part of herself. And sometimes she needed it.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself together and muttered, “You know what I want? Wine.”
Duke huffed disapprovingly.
“Yes, I realise it’s early. Don’t judge me.”
Today was just one of those days.
2
Even Rae’s ill-advised day-drinking didn’t awaken her hibernating creativity. She spent the rest of the day grappling with her own mind and staring at the words ‘Chapter Four’ on her computer screen, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. By the time evening arrived, she had two options: take a break, or throw her bloody laptop out of the window.
The laptop had been rather expensive.
She arrived at the Unicorn before anyone else and snagged their usual table on the gently heated patio, Duke stretching out by her feet. A dozen judgemental eyes followed her every move, as if she’d stripped off her clothes instead of simply sitting down—but after months in Ravenswood, Rae was used to that. She made the achingly ordinary, upper-middle-class residents twitter like birds. New in town. Mysterious scars. Divorced and rolling in cash.
After a day of frustration, she felt like behaving badly. A long, languid stretch drew back the sleeves of her jacket, and the Cartier bracelets stacked on her wrist caught the light. They were a reminder of her previous life, gifts she hadn’t gotten around to removing because it would require a literal tiny screwdriver—but no-one else knew that. The scandalised looks increased. Good.
Most of the time, she hated being stared at—but here in Ravenswood, where she had some wild, Cruella de Vil reputation built off rubbish and assumptions? It was hilarious. It felt like a game. It felt like being a protagonist. Here, she enjoyed being outrageous.
But when she left this small town behind for Manchester, for the convention, for the world that Kevin ruled—it wouldn’t be the same. Her newfound confidence would vanish like a gown at the stroke of midnight. She’d be sad and self-conscious and…
She couldn’t bear it. She really fucking couldn’t.
Thankfully, her phone buzzed just in time to cut those moody, panicked thoughts short.
Hannah: Beth just lost a tooth and swallowed it. This might take a while.
Rae chuckled softly and tapped out a quick reply. Hannah Kabbah didn’t nanny her boyfriend’s adorable kids anymore, but she’d taken to mothering them like a duck to water—which surprised exactly no-one. Rae assumed that the second couple in their little group, Ruth Kabbah