This was definitely not her pillowcase. Light blasted through curtains that weren’t hers and Gemma squinted against it. Somewhere in the distance was the sound of someone whistling and pottering around in a kitchen she was almost certain would turn out not to be hers either.

The room lurched but she had to collect the facts. The smell of coffee floated suggested she didn’t have much time to pass herself off as someone who knew what was going on.

A quick look under the duvet told her she was in pants (hers, thank God) and a huge t-shirt with some kind of blackbird print on it (definitely not hers). This didn’t help. It could mean anything. She’d need to look further afield.

Clothes.

She reemerged into the sickening daylight and scanned the room. On a tall wooden chair she spotted her jeans and one sock. No sign of her top though. What were the rules about sleeping with someone, forgetting, then asking to borrow their t-shirt to get home?

Whatever. She’d need to be dressed when whoever it was came back, so she sat up. There was an overwhelming smell of vomit coming from her hair. God. Was that before or after? She wasn’t sure which would be worse, but footsteps were heading up the stairs. No time.

She was into her jeans and remaining sock when the knock came. She’d expected them to just come in. After all, what was privacy between them after, well, whatever had happened? But to her horror, the face that appeared at her too bright ‘come in!’ was Jamie’s dad’s.

Surely she hadn’t; surely not even five pints of Guinness Gemma would have gone to bed with her ex-boyfriend's dad?

She had to keep things smooth, cheerful. Definitely don’t make a big deal of it. She plastered on a horrible smile and took the proffered coffee. The key was not to stop talking. That way he couldn’t ask her any questions.

“Oh brilliant. Thanks -” her mind blanked out at his first name and she couldn’t call him Mr Walters now. So she just ploughed on.“Just what I need.”

She gulped down a scalding mouthful. “Well I suppose I should leave you to get on with your day! Thanks for - uh, well everything. And the coffee! I can’t find my other sock, but maybe you could pass it on to Jamie, if it ever shows up? Not that - I mean - I’m just more likely to see him sooner. College and everything, you know.”

She was making things worse and was he looking disappointed? God. She had to do something. Praying that her shoes were by the door, she stood up, kissed him hard on the mouth and slipped out of the room and down the stairs. She was aiming for breezy and casual, like she had one night stands with her ex’s dads every weekend. No big deal. She suspected it hadn’t come off.

She was waiting at the train station, coatless and sockless when Jamie called.

“My Dad is really confused - he says he put you to bed in my sister’s room last night after you spewed outside the pub and that you just snogged him to say thanks for some coffee…”