Frankie was sad. She was curled up in the foetal position on her bedroom floor, dressed in her long-sleeved, sequined, shoulder-padded dress and quietly weeping. From her laptop ‘Islands In The Stream’ by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers was playing, set on repeat.
Heather sat on the other side of the glass, cross-legged with her back to me as she worked carefully to repot one of her shrubs.
I didn’t tell Rosie we were going to resurrect my cat until she arrived at my house. “For fuck’s sake Joanna, again?”