You cannot, I repeat, cannot sit here on your sofa and watch movies.’ ‘Yes I most definitely can.’ Stella kicked out her legs and rested them on a pillow on her coffee table, waving off Summer’s pleading. She had a glass of sauvignon blanc in one hand, her first taste of wine in a week, and the rest of the bottle in the fridge. She planned to finish it all during the evening. The evening she’d planned to spend alone. Summer propped her fists on her hips. ‘I’m going to say it.’ ‘Say what?’ ‘Well … it’s just that … you’re turning into a nanna.’ Stella chuckled, more at the concerned look on her friend’s face than the accusation. ‘See these feet? The ones with the pretty red toenails? I’ve been on them eight hours a day since the 27th. They ache. I’m too scared to look at them in case I have cankles. I don’t actually believe I can feel my little toes any more. They are begging for mercy, Summer.’ Summer plonked herself next to Stella and checked her watch.
