~Epilogue~

The outskirts of Birmingham – the nice bits, the rural parts, only a half hour drive from Cadbury World. The middle of the afternoon. The entrance to the Bullring.

Stood there, taking selfies beside the brass bull, is Emily. She’s wearing galaxy print flared trousers and a smear of Biscoff spread along her chin. None of this is relevant. In any way. She just loves to have the last word.

Posting the seventh selfie (of 73627273) to her Instagram in the hopes that Robert Patrinson is perusing the profiles of girls who went to the same school as his old pals, the Weasley twins, she locks her phone, breathes deep and whispers towards the silver scaled Selfridges building;

“But anyway.”