Nisha grabs hold of a red bikini that is nothing more than three tiny pieces of flimsy material. She waves it in front of me, a devious look on her face.

“How about this one?”

“Are you joking? That thing will just about cover my nipples.”

“I think that’s the point, isn’t it?” she says, chucking it at me.

“Get lost, Nisha. I am not wearing that!” I hiss under my breath. The shop assistant gives us a stern look.

“Can I assist you with anything,” she says rather tartly. Her left eyebrow shoots up, almost hitting her hairline.

“Sorry,” I say. “We were just discussing the design of this bikini.” I feel like a naughty kid being told off by a teacher. This shop is one of the more exclusive boutiques along Sloane Street and not somewhere I feel entirely comfortable in; even less now, given the shop assistant’s obvious distaste. Clearly, she doesn’t think we should be in here either. I look around. Aside from us, the shop is empty so it’s not as if she can afford to be choosy.

“That bikini is three hundred and fifty pounds…” She lets the words hang in the air between us. Is she implying that we are unable to afford it? I mean we can’t afford it, but that’s not the point at all. I glance at Nisha, who is glaring at the shop assistant. Oh, dear.

“Do you have this in any other colour?” Nisha asks, her voice saccharin.

The woman takes the bikini from her. “No, we do not. Besides, this bikini is only available up to a size twelve.”

“You’re kidding me? The average woman in the UK is a size sixteen, and this only goes up to a twelve?” Nisha says, aghast.

The shop assistant’s gaze drops to my chest, before she proceeds to look me up and down.

“I think something with a bit more all over support would be more suitable for you, madam. We have some lovely swimsuits that should be more flattering for a woman of your... stature. I think this one goes up to a size fourteen,” she says, grabbing probably the drabbest swimsuit in the store.

What a bitch.

Nisha glances at me. I can see the familiar look of protectiveness tighten her face. She’s about to give the shop assistant a mouthful, but I have other ideas. This woman needs to be taught a lesson.

“Chloe, is it?” I say, reading her name tag. “I think I might just try the bikini on after all.”

Chloe’s eyebrow arches once more, and I suddenly wish I had a strip of wax so that I could remove it from her face. My arm remains outstretched in front of me. After a moment’s hesitation, she reluctantly hands me the bikini. Striding into the changing room, I flip my phone open and tap in a quick message in the WhatsApp group I share with Max, Bryce and Hud. They are shopping in the Gucci store further down Sloane Street, buying clothes for our holiday tomorrow. I think their opinion may be required.

A minute later, I’m standing in the changing room wearing the bright red bikini. Nisha peeks around the changing room curtain.

“Holy shit, Lou, you look H.O.T, hot! That cow is just a jealous, stuck-up bitch.”

I look in the mirror, at the curve of my hips, the gentle roundness of my tummy and my ample breasts. I’m a size twelve and perfectly happy in my own skin and, surprisingly, the bikini fits well, given it really is only a few pieces of material fixed together with string. Its purpose is to show as much flesh as possible and it certainly achieves that. My phone pings, and I read the message. Good, they’re here. Pulling the curtain aside, I stride out into the store.

“What the hell are you doing?” Nisha asks, a look of surprise on her face.

“Showing that stuck up cow that feeling good about yourself has nothing to do with what dress size you are. It’s all about confidence.”

“Oh fuck, this is going to be interesting,” Nisha says, sniggering.

Standing just outside the changing room are Max, Bryce and Hudson. They stop talking when I stand in front of them, hands on my hips. Bryce’s mouth has dropped open in a delightful O shape, Max is blowing out a slow breath and Hudson is eying me greedily. Out of the corner of my eye I see that Chloe has noticed my men and the Gucci bags they are carrying. They scream wealth and I can practically see the pound signs flicking in her eyes.

“So, what do you think, guys? Chloe here suggested that this bikini wouldn’t be suitable for a woman of my stature. I think that was the word you used?” I say, looking at her, my own eyebrow arching.

“Well, I wasn’t actually suggesting it wouldn’t fit…” she fumbles, her face reddening.

“No? That is exactly the impression I got. I thought my boyfriends here might have an opinion on that, given theirs are the only ones that count.”

Chloe’s eyebrows finally lose themselves in her hairline as she digests the word boyfriends, plural.

Bryce looks from me to the shop assistant and, realising what must have happened, puts on his sexiest, fuck-me voice. I adore him more than I already do in this moment.

“Well, sweetheart, I’d say you look good enough to eat. You have the body to pull it off.” He strides over to me and presses a gentle kiss on my lips.

“I have to concur,” Hudson agrees. “You look fucking hot, baby.”

Max steps forward as Bryce moves away. He circles me. “Damn it, Icy. I’d say that bikini was made just for you, although to be fair, it wouldn’t stay on for long.”

“Thanks, loves, that’s what I thought,” I say with a seductive smile, before glaring at Chloe. She looks suitably aghast and I feel a moment of triumph. Ha, that’ll teach her to be such a bitch. I turn on my heel and sashay back to the changing room. Nisha walks in behind me.

“Oh my God, Lou, you sure have a pair of balls. Did you see her face?”

“Serves her right. How dare she treat us the way she did,” I say, ripping off the bikini and throwing it on the chair in the corner of the cubicle. I pull on my clothes and return to the store where my delicious men are still waiting, anger bubbling in my chest.

“All done, sweetheart?” Bryce asks.

“Almost,” I say.

Chloe approaches us. “Would you like me to ring up the bikini or are there others you’d like to try on, madam?” She’s all sweetness and light now. I want to slap the fake smile off her face.

“No, I won’t be purchasing it after all. I’d much rather spend my money in a shop where the assistants don’t have their heads stuck firmly up their arse.”

With that, I turn and stride out of the store. Nisha and the boys follow, laughing gleefully. Nisha catches up with me, threading her arm through mine.

“God, I love you,” she says, still giggling. “I wish I’d taken a photo of her face, it was a picture. Come on, lets met Cal and grab a bite to eat.”

Half an hour later we are sitting in a cosy Italian café, a selection of half-eaten pizzas between us. Calum is sitting next to Nisha, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and I am flanked by Bryce on one side, Hudson the other. Max is opposite, surreptitiously playing footsie with me under the table. I catch his eye as my now shoeless foot glides up the inside of his leg. The returning smile I receive is dazzling.

“Calum, do you want to tell the girls, or shall I?” Hudson asks.

The tone of his voice is sombre, serious, and my foot falls from Max’s crotch as I sit up.

“Tell us what?” I ask, noticing how Calum searches out Nisha’s hand and squeezes it gently.

“The police are closing in on Smithy,” Calum says.

Nisha’s free hand flies up to her mouth.

“What do you mean?” I say.

“He was spotted at a pub in Staffordshire after instigating a fight with one of the locals. They have him on surveillance,” Calum explains.

“Thank God,” Nisha says, relief flooding across her features.

“He has a list of charges as long as my arm. He’s been on the Met Police’s radar for quite some time. There are drug charges, trafficking…”

“Trafficking? As in human trafficking?” I ask.

“Yes. He is in quite deep with the international crime underbelly. He’s a small fish in a very large sea of sharks. I imagine once he’s arrested more will follow,” Bryce explains.

“For Nisha’s sake, and for my own, I hope they make the arrest soon.” I look at Nisha and the tense way she’s holding herself. I know she is still affected by her ordeal, but I didn’t realise it still has such a hold over her.

“Well, I think his imminent arrest deserves a toast, don’t you?” she says. I see the brave face she’s putting on. No one mentions the possibility that he might not be caught.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Calum picks up his pint of Peroni beer. “Here’s to the Met Police, and to Louisa and Nisha for being two of the bravest women I know.”

“Amen to that,” Hudson says, raising his glass to meet the rest of ours.

“Cheers,” we all say in unison.

“Well, now that happy piece of information is out in the open, who fancies a movie? There’s that new Avenger one out,” Max says hopefully. I pull a face, it’s not my idea of fun.

“I’m up for it, bro,” Bryce says, throwing some notes on the table and pulling on his jacket. “Louisa, I take it by the look on your face, you’d rather pull your eyeballs out than go see this movie?” he asks.

“Yup, that’s about right,” I say.

Max gets up. “Cal, Nisha? Want to join us?”

Nisha leans into Calum’s arms. “Actually, Cal and I were going to head home… we’ve still got packing to do for tomorrow.” Her voice trails off. It’s pretty clear what they are going home for and it certainly isn’t to pack their suitcases.

“Of course. Have fun guys,” I say, standing up to give Nisha a hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Nisha grins kissing, me on the cheek. “I’m pretty sure you’ve done most things already.”

Calum and Nisha say their goodbyes and leave the restaurant. I feel ridiculously happy seeing their relationship go from strength to strength. It had been rocky at first, especially after her ordeal with Smithy and his men. Yet Calum’s stalwart patience and love had pulled her through those dark days that followed.

“If ever two people were made for each other, it’s those two,” Bryce says.

“I couldn’t agree more. Although we have a pretty great square going on ourselves,” I say.

“Square?” Max laughs.

“Yes, we don’t have a love triangle, we have a love square. Squares have always been my favourite shape.”

“Is that so? Well, my favourite shape is your arse, it’s peachy,” Hudson says. He stands and hands me my coat, but not before he’s run the flat of his palm against my jean clad bottom.

“Peachy is not a shape. It’s a fruit,” I say with a smirk.

“Peachy, square, it’s all the same to me.”

“I figure you’re going to hang out with Louisa then?” Max asks Hudson as he pulls on his own coat.

“Actually, I was thinking of taking a visit to see Beth. It’s been a while.”

“Right now?” Bryce asks.

“It’s been over a month, and given we’re going away tomorrow for a few weeks, I think I should.” Hudson looks at me hopefully. “Would you like to come too?”

“Sure, of course I will.” If I’m honest, I’m not very sure at all, but I am happy that Hudson has asked me to go along with him. Being there with him whilst he faces his demons is a big step in our relationship. It means he trusts me enough to see him at his most vulnerable.

“Okay, well that’s settled. We’ll see you back home in a few hours. Give Beth our love, will you?” Max asks, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

“Yeah, ditto,” Bryce says, giving Hudson a quick hug. “I know it’s hard to see her the way she is, but it’s the right thing to do. I’m glad you’re taking Louisa with you.” He presses a kiss against my lips and leaves the restaurant, Max in tow.

Hudson turns to me. “Thanks for coming with me, Louisa. It gets harder every time. I feel like a prick saying that, but it’s true. Beth is a constant reminder of my mistakes.”

“Come on. You’ve got me to support you. Let’s go and see Beth.”

Hudson gives me a tight smile, grabs hold of my hand, and entwines his fingers with mine. We step out of the restaurant and make our way to his car.