Daisy Tate - We are the Glampions!

Emily nodded. It made more sense now. She still wasn’t sure miring them in massive debt was something she’d forgive quite so easily, but even with her heart of stone, she could see that the pair of them had been trying to do what they thought best. Poor Freya. And, she supposed, poor Monty. The phrase ‘clouded judgement’ sprang to mind. A mental pea-souper more like. ‘Is Monty still seeing the counsellor?’

Freya shook her head. ‘It took a couple of goes to find one who was a good fit. I’m seeing one too and, of course, we’ve still got a few more sessions with the debt therapist, but …’ Freya made a noise that was hard to read. Did she actually want out but felt duty bound to stand by her man?

‘A lot of people would’ve left him.’

‘I’m not a lot of people.’ Freya knotted the bin bag tightly and marched off towards the hallway.

Emily looked round the large open-plan kitchen/living space she knew Freya loved and tried to see things from her perspective. If she stayed in London she’d be facing a life of endless penury and, most likely, bankruptcy. Being a single mother would be exhausting. Freya’s art embodied joy and whimsy. She wouldn’t feel either of those things if she tried to press on through. She supposed she could always move back to Scotland. Her brother and father would be over the moon if she moved back.

Freya slammed the door shut then stomped back into the room.

Uh-oh. She had her lecture face on. Emily took a swig of lukewarm wine. It too had a tang of potpourri.

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