CHAPTER 12
“Mena, have you ever heard of FOMO?” I ask solemnly, and she shakes her head. I’m kidding. She’s a cat and does not understand anything I say, but I’ve succumbed all too quickly to crazy cat lady behaviour and now carry out serious conversations with her. This works best if you make up the answers yourself.
“Fear of missing out,” I say, pulling open my bag to check I have my notepad, pens and phone. “Rhetorical question, Mena. No-one could argue that going to the village library for a meeting of the Lochalshie Highland Games committee comes anywhere near the top ten things to do.”
Yes, Jolene might not be Dexter-like in her assessments of my work, but things I thought were requests turn out to be orders. Attending the next meeting of the games committee is one of them. It’s a
