Chapter 13
Simone was sat in her lounge, aimlessly scrolling through make-up tutorials on TikTok, when a video call request popped up on screen. It was Nancy. They’d be at the airport now, filling up on the Duty Free. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but with Marcus away and Wei at a wedding, this would be her only company all weekend. She swiped to accept the call.
Nancy’s face filled the screen. She was wearing a two-tone gold hippie hairband, her hair sea-salted into carefully orchestrated beach curls that fell from a centre parting.
‘Hey Sim. How are you doing?’
‘Oh, you know.’
‘I so wish you were coming with us.’
‘Me too.’
‘Aww.’ Nancy turned away from the camera. ‘Hey Zig, come and say something encouraging to Sim. She’s all down in the dumps.’
Nancy’s head gave way to an image of Ziggy about five metres away, standing at a long sleek bar bathed in red and lilac lights. It was the Virgin Clubhouse.
‘Have you been upgraded?’
Nancy ignored her, probably not wishing to pour salt into the wormhole-sized wound she was already nursing. Instead she approached Ziggy, who was wearing a pair of denim short shorts, tan leather chaps, a fringed racer-front vest, and a cowgirl hat. Just the outfit for an eleven-hour flight.
‘Did you both ram-raid Coachella before you set off for the airport?’
‘Gotta look the part, babe.’ Ziggy raised a glass of champagne to the camera.
She ignored the urge to reach through the screen and knock it out of her grip.
‘Don’t be jealous. We’ll be lying around in boring old spas or luxury hotel rooms, whilst you get to have a proper real genuine authentic experience.’
She missed ‘bona fide’ in her list of synonyms.
‘What could be more fun than getting up close and personal with some of London’s most put-upon people?’ Ziggy said.
‘Erm. Norovirus? A root canal? Brain surgery in the late nineteenth century?’
Nancy was back in frame. ‘Zig’s right, Sim. I’ve always wondered what it’s like to be homeless.’
Always? This is a girl who refused to stay at a three-star hotel once as it would have been slumming it.
‘And will you actually be able to mix with them?’ asked Zig.
‘It’s not a zoo. They’re not behind bars. I guess they’ll be coming and going.’
‘That’s so nice,’ said Nancy. ‘Like free-range chickens.’
It didn’t get more free-range than not having anywhere to live.
‘You know, not many people get to do what you’re doing,’ said Nancy.
She’d read a stat that there were nearly three hundred thousand people classed as homeless in the UK. Even at a conservative ratio of one person working in homelessness for every five people in the system, that didn’t really class as not many.
Ziggy butted in. ‘Yeah, it’ll be like the week I spent at that South American ape sanctuary. It was sooo rewarding. Remember?’
She remembered it perfectly. Ziggy had been terrified she was going to get her face ripped off by a gibbon, so she’d taken all the pictures she needed to in a single day, even changing hair and clothes to complete the illusion of a week’s volunteer work. She’d confessed when drunk and had clearly forgotten having done so.
‘Yep, you guys are still comparing homeless people to animals.’
‘No. These were apes. That’s different.’
‘Yeah, they’re really intelligent,’ said Nancy.
Were they saying that homeless people were stupid?
‘They can’t be that smart to have ended up on the street, can they?’ said Zig.
The truth was, she had no idea why or how someone could end up homeless, but she supposed in three weeks she’d know all she needed to.
‘Are you going to keep us updated on Insta?’ Ziggy was now scrolling on her phone. ‘People will go batshit crazy for that stuff. Hot babe helps homeless.’ She glanced up. ‘Actually, that’s a catchy hashtag.’
It was, but there’d be no posts. There was a loud announcement over the tannoy.
‘That’s us, sweetie!’ Nancy tried hard to hide the excitement in her voice.
‘Make sure you send me some pics.’
‘Just follow along on Insta,’ said Zig. She grabbed Nancy’s hand and dragged her off. ‘We’ve gotta go!’
She half-hoped they had an incredible time, and half-hoped the plane crashed into a tall, impassable mountain and they’d be forced to drink their own urine to survive.
‘I need to go too,’ she said. She had a date with a pillow into which she was going to scream very, very loudly. These next three weeks were going to be the worst of her life.