Perfect on Paper by Gillian Harvey (top 20 books to read txt) 📕

only had about ten followers – at least two of whom were bots. She logged into her account anyway and clicked the list of hashtag trends for mentions of Eezee Troupe or Martha B. There was nothing.

Perhaps Dan hadn’t meant genuinely trending – after all that would mean thousands of people were retweeting the video. Perhaps he just meant they had a few likes.

Can’t see it? she texted Dan.

Look on my profile @Dan_The_Man, he replied.

And her blood ran cold. There was a little video playing, with her face, luckily too out-of-focus to be properly recognised, but her rap was loud and clear.

And the reason she hadn’t noticed a hashtag trending was because it wasn’t Eezee Troupe or even Martha B., or You’ve Got Talent that had been picked up, but a word from her rap.

This is brilliant! You’re right girl – I feel #Meh a lot of the time.

I agree with her – fed up with being judged for my looks #Meh!

Me too. #MehToo

Too right I feel #MehToo

About time someone spoke up for women like me #MehToo

Martha B. is the nuts! #MehToo

Looking at the hashtag as it gathered pace, Clare put her hands to her face. What on earth was happening?

Chapter Twenty-Two

Driving to the office, the following morning, Clare felt herself relax. Although people would probably think she was weird if she admitted it, she found work – the sheer routine of it – soothing. She was at the top of her game and things rarely floored her once she was in her element. She didn’t have to think about dirty plates, dinner times, distracted husbands or the fact she’d become something of an internet sensation.

She felt less positive when she thought about how her lovely office with its muted green walls and solid wooden bookshelves was no longer hers. Entering her new room, she could still smell the ghost of trainers past. She could hardly fit herself around the corner to get to her seat and, as she sank into the tattered office chair and felt its habitual wobble, she was reminded again that down the hall in her old office Will was enjoying the delights of her specially purchased, leather swivel chair.

‘It goes with the desk, though?’ he’d said when she’d asked whether she could swap it back. ‘The other one’s too small.’

‘So, swap the desks too?’ she said. ‘I’ve been using that one for years.’

‘Ah, Nige reckons it wouldn’t fit in the cupbo … your office.’ He’d smiled, apologetically and she’d had to retreat to her office sharpish before she’d given in to the urge to grab the chair from under him and roll it off down the corridor.

Martha B. would never put up with this shit, she thought darkly.

Other than having to take regular breaks to remind herself that she didn’t live underground, the rest of her day at work went OK. She stopped briefly on the way home to run through a couple of new moves in the now familiar church hall and promised faithfully to practice them herself at home.

As she got home and unlocked the front door her phone began to ring. She put it to her ear and, kicking an empty crisp packet out of the way, began to speak. ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, Martha B.’ The voice was husky, unrecognisable.

‘Who is this?’

‘Pfft, it’s Steph, you idiot!’ replied her sister, this time using her normal voice.

‘God’s sake, Steph – you scared the life out of me then!’ she said, placing her keys gently on the hall table before slipping off her coat and carefully hanging it on the empty hooks. Everyone else’s coats, she noticed – even Toby’s – had been flung towards the hooks, missed, and were left on the floor for her to pick up.

Feigning obliviousness, she walked across them towards the kitchen.

‘Sorry. Viral star!’

‘Oh, don’t. You saw it?’ Clare could feel herself getting hot.

‘You bet I saw it! I even tweeted about it!’

‘You didn’t!’

‘Why not? I loved it – that whole “meh” thing. You may have started a whole new feminist movement!’

‘You’re not going to tell anyone, though, are you?’ Clare said, wondering if she might have to bribe her sister to avoid being outed on social media.

‘Why not? You were actually great!’

‘Yeah, but work …’

‘Come on, those old fuddy duddies at work need shaking up – you could teach them some proper moves instead of that … what was it – corporately slutty stuff?’

‘Corporately sexy. And you’d better be joking.’

‘Don’t worry, Martha. Your secret is safe with me. Although to be honest, I doubt anyone would believe me anyway. I showed John the footage and he said he thought he’d seen you on TV before sometime, but that was it.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah, he said something like “Hasn’t she been on EastEnders or something?”’ Steph said in a remarkably accurate impression of her husband.

‘Probably thought I was Dot Cotton.’

‘More like Phil Mitchell.’

‘Thanks a lot! So, you’re feeling better?’

‘Same as usual, I guess.’ Steph’s voice wavered slightly. ‘You know. Knackered, wondering what the point of it all is.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, ignore me. I’m OK. Hormones.’

‘Are you sure? I can come over, you know.’

‘I know. Thanks sis. I just … I’ll be fine.’

‘Seriously? You’re not feeling, well, too low?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Steph replied, sounding more normal. ‘I’m just moaning. It’s therapeutic to let it all out, so they say.’

The idea of letting it all hang out brought a vivid picture of Nigel into Clare’s mind and she shuddered slightly. ‘It’ll get easier you know,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t explain it, but it just does.’

‘So you say.’

‘It’s true.’

‘Anyway, don’t go changing the subject, rap star!’

‘Oh, stop it.’

‘Have you thought what you’re going to do when your family see it properly?’ Steph said then. ‘I mean, are they seriously not going to recognise you?’

‘I’m trying not to think about it.’

‘Just tell them.’

‘I tried,’ Clare explained. ‘Toby thought I was joking.’

‘Well, it’s understandable.’

‘And I was going to sit him down and really explain. But then I thought, well, maybe this can just be something for me, for now. The