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Chapter One

My life back then was full of sos—non-specific people and objects who needed my attention in various ways The trouble was that the sos appeared to outnumber the units of my attention by a factor of about ten to one To be frank, things were getting out of hand

I had let e sale and any poor dogs needing bones would have been better off canvassing Old Mother Hubbard My kitchen table was piled high with parking tickets, overdue bill re-eared takeaway menus with the phone numbers circled in black marker

Life was getting away from me, and I didn’t like it

A typical dinner of the period—pasta à la s in a blisteringly hot, tasteless sauce It hardly embodied temptation Neither did the pile of unironed clothes, the half-finished tax return or the dishes in the kitchen sink That bottle of Merlot and family-sized tub of Phish Food on the other hand…

No, Lara, no I would souard in theseveral more pounds than my clothes could handle My skin was dull and my eyes looked tired I needed a haircut, but the last ties on my phone told me that I’d missed a dental check-up and my brother’s birthday The shit was in close proxi about it Quickly

I openedconfronted with a hundred balled tissues, soe But I had to brave the shoulder-borne rubbish duers pluck at the detritus until I unearthed the treasure I sought The newspaper clipping Shona had given me e’d met in Starbucks a few days earlier, still intact, not ripped or shredded yet I’d been ten ry—actually really angry, not the kind of eye rolling ‘it wouldn’t be Lara if she wasn’t a bit late’ indulgent exasperation I was hot at the memory of it, and so ashamed of myself

“Hasn’t it ever occurred to you, Lara, that constant lateness is incredibly disrespectful? It says, ‘My tiuess what? Your time is not worth more than mine You need to sort yourself out”

“I’ve tried, Shona, I really have…” I wailed, teary-eyed

“I know you have” But her face was still gri way off yet “You’ve tried But your willpower alone isn’t enough, is it? Look”

She handed

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“New-U?” I said, squinting at the advert, which was phrased in that evangelically positive and uplifting type of language I found really irritating

“Yeah, I kno it looks I wouldn’t have answered that ad either But I’ve had an excellent personal recoe of a stress-related illness before she hired one of these people—the change in her is incredible It’s taken ten years off her And she’s given up s, too”

“That’s…very interesting I don’t sh”

“No, but you are so disorganised it’s a wonder you ”

“Sometimes I don’t,” I confessed ruefully “And do you reot to do up the zipper on my—”

“Yes I remember And so does every man in that pub”