Esme read the post again. Both Hortense and Brian had replied to say they were keen to make friends before they left too. Since then there had been sporadic sharing and posts from all three – mostly of what they were hoping to see and do once they got to Lapland and how excited they were. Hortense and Brian seemed sweet, though not quite as engaged with the whole business of Facebook as Zach, as their misplaced posts and typos attested. Esme had yet to contribute to the page, preferring to stay in the background watching what the others were saying and doing.

That was, until this very newest post by Zach, in which she’d been tagged. Since then she’d been rereading his others, trying to decide whether she ought to reply or get the hell out of the group. After all, she hadn’t actually decided to travel to Lapland; it was just a crazy idea that she’d indulged with too much room to grow. But when all was said and done, it was crazy and she probably wouldn’t go. If only Warren hadn’t been so dismissive about the whole thing she wouldn’t even be in this situation trying to weigh up complete strangers in the prospect of spending a week with them; instead, she and Warren would be looking forward to a fantastic, once-in-a-lifetime trip together. Esme knew that he’d have had a great time too if he’d just given in and decided to go, and it was only because he was feeling particularly stubborn about it for some reason that he hadn’t said yes. Sometimes, it would be nice if he just thought about her for once, made a sacrifice or two, strived to give her things she wanted instead of her always being the one to compromise on everything.

She needed to call her mum to get a copy of Grandma’s death certificate, however, if she wasn’t going to take the trip, and that was one conversation she’d really rather not have. Warren had argued that as the trip had been a Christmas gift meant for Esme, the fact entitled her to any refund on it. Esme could see the logic in this, but she felt that as the money had come from Matilda’s purse, and therefore her estate, which now belonged to Esme’s dad, the refund really ought to go to him and she would offer it before she did anything else. Warren would have none of it, reminding her with some bile of the money they were getting through while she lived with him as an unemployed woman. But to phone her parents in the first place for help to get money that she may or may not be entitled to… that seemed like an insult too far in a situation that was already fraught with festering tension.

Esme turned to her phone again and unlocked it, the page for the solo travellers still open. Her eyes were drawn to Zach’s latest post. It was perfectly innocuous, hardly anything to concern her:

For just a moment she let herself imagine arriving at the airport and the little group waiting for her in the departure lounge, all chat and shy laughter and new beginnings. She imagined getting on the plane with them and arriving later in a new and magical place, the place of all her childhood dreams waiting to be explored and discovered with new friends. And she felt happy, for the first time in weeks. She’d thought coming back to Warren would fill the hole her grandma had left, that it would bring her happiness, but nothing with Warren had changed. She knew deep down she wasn’t content and really he wasn’t right for her. The trip to Lapland with a bunch of strangers was a nerve-wracking prospect, but then if she wasn’t brave, nothing would change. And deep down she knew what Matilda would have wanted her to do.