Page 32 of Leaning In

Smoke puffs out as I open the door. Inside, the cakes have risen unevenly and then collapsed in the middle like tiny inedible sinkholes. The edges are blackened, crisp as toast and one looks like it might actively be smouldering. I knew something was wrong with my oven.

Then my eyes drift to the phone sitting on the counter.

The timer app definitely isn’t open.

Claire’s messages, on the other hand…

Right. Maybe the oven isn’t entirely to blame.

I yank the tins out and dump them on the stove. A second later, the smoke alarm starts screeching overhead, a piercingly loud wail.

“Shit, shit, shit—”

I grab a tea towel and start flapping it wildly beneath the alarm before rushing to wrench open the kitchen window. Cold air floods the flat and a streak of grey fur suddenly launches itself through the gap.

“Oh for god’s sake.”

The neighbour’s cat lands neatly on the counter, and then jumps down, winding around my legs and meowing at top volume. Or I presume top volume since I can hear it over my smoke alarm. Nearly tripping over him, I keep waving the tea towel as he jumps up to investigate the smoking cakes.

“Croissant, no!” I shout, promptly burning myself as I move the cat away from the hot tins.

Bloody cats.

Eventually the alarm stops and I drop the cooling cakes into the bin where they continue to smoulder. Croissant, the nuisance creature, has now made himself at home on top of a stack of Year 8 books.

He starts purring as I sit back down.

“You’re not really meant to be here,” I tell him firmly.

Croissant blinks at me before curling more decisively across the work like he’s laying claim to Tudor England itself.

Luckily Mrs Lewis upstairs knows he roams into other people’s flats. She usually just sighs and tells me he gets bored easily. Half the time I complain to Kath about the furry menace turning up uninvited, and then five minutes later I’m letting him fall asleep on my lap while I mark essays.

Croissant lets out another loud meow.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, pulling the next book towards me as the cat continues vibrating smugly on top of the pile. I start marking again, red pen in hand. Between the remaining marking, the half-finished proposal waiting on my laptop and possibly another cake attempt, tonight’s workload is looking increasingly ambitious.

Chapter 13

Claire

Iplace my notebook on the cocktail table and survey the event space that Kath rented for her birthday party, noting the areas that still need some work. It’s one of those private dining spaces above a pub, high-ceilinged with bare brick walls and black and white prints. A bar runs along the far end, already stocked, and on the opposite wall there’s a long table that I’ve been gradually filling with plates, napkins and party food. My camera sits there too; I’ve been the designated photographer at these things since Dad gave me the camera for my eighteenth.

I’ve been here for about an hour setting up, and have managed to tick off most of what I wanted to do. Kath was meant to help, but I told her to go get her nails done with her mum while I handled the boring bits.

It sounded generous when I suggested it. But only afterwards I admitted to myself that it was a form of emotional penance… and a way to avoid her asking about the gala. I wish I’d never dragged them to it. Kath and Sam were always going to come given Sam’s swimming, but bringing Tom was a terrible idea.

I still haven’t spoken to her about how things went with her brother, though I’m sure he’s told her that I’m not replying to his messages. Avoidance is the worst strategy and I’ve fallen straight into it. But it’s one of those awful habits I can’t seem to break. I hate confrontation; with my mum, at work, with friends. A small logical part of my brain knows that I should say something, but the scared part of me just wants to bury my head in the sand and pretend everything is fine.

The minute I think about the night, everything gets tangled in my head again.

Mum’s words still echo on repeat.

That boy looks entirely out of place.

Claire, at least try to smile.

Darling, choose better next time.