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how was it possible that I’d been sufficiently lucid to complete an internet transaction?
    â€˜Your return leg has more flexibility,’ Mara continued. ‘It’s in three weeks’ time, so you can make changes to your itinerary until a week beforehand.’
    â€˜It looks like I’m going to Melbourne, doesn’t it, Mara?’
    â€˜Well, Miss Stanhope, if it’s any consolation, I was chatting to my mum in Melbourne tonight. She said yesterday was a stinker, but today it’s cooled down to thirty-eight degrees. Is there anything else I can help you with?’
    â€˜No thanks, Mara.’
    I returned to my bedroom, peas, phone and laptop in hand, and buried my head in the bed. The duvet muffled my scream. The events of last night returned in dribs and drabs. My passport number was scrawled across my palm in blue ink next to a smiley face. The huge suitcase next to my bed contained the items of my free box, alongside an old bikini, an array of footwear from Birkenstocks to Louboutins and the latest James Halliday Wine Companion .
    â€˜Francesca speaking.’
    â€˜Fran, it’s me,’ I yawned into the receiver. ‘I’m going to Australia.’
    â€˜Oh, don’t be melodramatic, darling. Today’s papers line tomorrow’s litter trays.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Some North Umbrian will find a tarantula in his pantry today and you’ll be yesterday’s news.’
    â€˜What on earth are you talking about?’
    â€˜Hello, Aunty Wooby,’ said Darth Vader. ‘You wrote an email in the newspaper.’
    â€˜Good grief.’
    â€˜Hang up, please, Clementine,’ said Fran. ‘I’m so sorry, darling, I thought you knew. Look, it’s not that bad and it’s an excellent email.’
    â€˜Which paper?’
    â€˜The pink one and the rude one,’ puffed Darth.
    â€˜I’m in the FT ?’
    â€˜Yes, there’s a mention of it in the diary pages and a larger piece in the Sun on page eight. Very positive, actually. “RUBY ’S REVENGE : LAID-OFF BANKER STINGS HR ‘NINCOMPOOPS ’.” Here it is. Blah, blah…“Stanhope’s email went viral in City circles yesterday. An estimated nine hundred thousand people had read it within two hours of it being sent. The bank declined to comment on its headcount control plans, but maintains its internal communications methods are in line with industry standards.” Only a small mention of Daddy.’
    â€˜Fuck.’ I plugged my dead mobile phone into its charger and switched it on. Forty-three text messages. Nineteen missed calls. ‘Well, it’s a very good thing I’m going to Melbourne tonight.’
    â€˜Sorry?’
    â€˜I got wankered on wine last night, woke up and discovered I’d booked and partly packed for a trip to Melbourne leaving at about midnight.’
    â€˜As in Ramsay Street?’
    I held the phone away from my throbbing head. ‘Yes, as in Ramsay Street.’
    â€˜Cancel it, Ruby.’
    â€˜I can’t. Well…I can, but there’s an exorbitant fee attached to the privilege. I haven’t had a holiday in…’ I couldn’t remember my last holiday.
    â€˜You don’t take holidays, darling. You couldn’t even come to our wedding without feeling the need to return to work,’ said Fran, with an ounce or two of resentment. ‘We’re coming over with cupcakes. Is there anything you need me to do?’
    â€˜Could you put on your lawyer hat and determine whether I’m eligible for one of those online visas?’
    â€˜I’ll do that. Call Aunt Daphne, darling. I think she lives near Melbourne or Sydney or something. She’ll be able to recommend somewhere to stay. See you soon.’
    I hobbled around my stinking flat in search of a pen to jot down a To Do list. On the back of a gas bill, I wrote:
    1. Call Daphne
    2. Shower
    3. Ice toe
    4. Dispose of