Page 55 of The Ex Factor

Molly’s breath caught slightly at the word adorably. She looked into Ashley’s dark eyes, searching for any sign of the performance, but Ashley looked sincere, if tired.

‘Right,’ Molly cleared her throat, suddenly feeling very warm in the tight corridor. ‘Well. I promise to keep my feet firmly planted on the floor for the duration of the trip.’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Ashley teased, a familiar crinkle appearing at the corners of her eyes.

‘Do they know?’ Molly asked.

‘Of course,’ Ashley said. ‘It couldn’t work any other way, could it? Not in these close quarters.’

‘And they won’t say anything? You’re certain? Because the one thing worse than everyone knowing I’m a clumsy idiot is people thinking I would do… this.’

‘I trust them.’ Ashley gave Molly’s shoulder a gentle bump with her fist. ‘Get settled. We cross the Scottish border by sunrise.’

Five Years Ago

Molly woke up with her face pressed into the crease of a pillow that smelled of cheap laundry powder. The narrow spot beside her on the single bed was empty.

Molly looked around her in the sunny room. She soon found Ashley standing by the desk in her knickers and white T-shirt, frantically pulling papers out of a canvas tote bag, hassled.

‘What time is it?’ Molly asked.

Ashley jumped, dropping a biro. ‘Seven forty. Shit. Shit shit shit.’

‘Did you set an alarm?’

‘It went off at seven,’ Ashley said, shoving the papers back in. ‘I turned it off. I never turn alarms off. I don’t know why I did that.’

‘Because you were tired,’ Molly said, sitting up and pulling the duvet over her chest. ‘You had a busy night.’

Ashley stopped, looking at her. The panic on her face softened for a second into a quick, lopsided grin. ‘I did. But the audition is in Camden at eight thirty, and the Northern Line is going to be fucked.’

She lunged for her jeans on the floor, dragging them on one leg at a time, nearly falling over her guitar case in the process.

‘I have to run,’ Ashley said, grabbing her jacket off the chair. She hopped toward the bed, leaned down, and kissed Molly hard on the mouth. ‘I’m so sorry. Lock the front door on your way out? The latch is sticky, you have to kick it slightly.’

‘I can do that,’ Molly said. ‘Knock ‘em dead today.’

‘I’ll be lucky to knock ‘em semi-conscious,’ Ashley shouted from the hallway. ‘See you at yours later?’

The front door slammed. Then silence.

Molly lay back on the mattress for two minutes, looking at the ceiling. Her body felt heavy, her muscles ached. Things had gotten pretty athletic last night. She had a shift at the coffee shop at nine—her final shift before the big acting job started. She couldn’t afford to fuck it off, she had three pounds and six pence in her current account—and she needed a shower. But she didn’t want to linger. Ashley’s dad would probably spring up and charge her for hot water use, the prick.

She got up, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and padded out of the bedroom in her socks.

The bathroom was at the end of the landing. Molly washed her face with cold water at the sink, used her finger to scrub her teeth as best she could, and tried to tame her hair in the small mirror. She looked like someone who had stayed up until three having the best sex of her life. She didn’t mind the look.

She went downstairs, holding her trainers by the laces so she wouldn’t make a racket.

The kitchen door was open.

Steve was sitting at the wooden table. Exactly where he’d been last night. He had the same mug in his hand. The black notebook sat open beside a plate of toast crusts. It was like he’d never moved.

Molly froze on the bottom step. She considered slipping straight out the front door, but the sticky latch Ashley mentioned was going to require noise.

‘Morning,’ Molly said with more than a little bravado, stepping onto the lino. She set her trainers on the floor and pulled them on, bending over to do the laces.

Steve looked up at her. He looked like an old dog watching a squirrel on a fence.