Playlist for a Broken Heart Read Free

put his head in his hands for a few moments. I wasn’t sure which was more shocking, seeing my father behave like this or the fact
that we’d be leaving London and the house where we’d lived all my life to live in some unfamiliar place in the middle of nowhere. I hadn’t seen much of Bath when we had been
there, only the area where Aunt Karen lived, and it looked really boring. London was the place to be, everyone knew that. London was
my
place to be.
    It. Could. Not. Be. Happening.
    ‘But you
must
have some money somewhere,’ I said.
    ‘Not any more,’ said Mum.
    ‘Can’t you borrow some from a bank?’
    ‘I wish it was that easy,’ said Dad.
    Mum took a deep breath and sat up straight. ‘Come on. Let’s remember who we are. We’re the Lord family. We’re survivors. We’ll get through this. Life’s a
rollercoaster, up and down we go. We’re going down for a while but things will turn around and we’ll be going up again before you know it.’
    Dad sat up straight too. ‘Course we will,’ he said. ‘Things will turn around but, in the meantime, you’ll have to be a brave girl, Paige. I need you to be strong and not
be too upset about the changes coming. Change is part of life and you have to embrace it and go with it or it will destroy you.’
    I got the feeling he was talking to himself as well as me. But it couldn’t really be happening. Something would make things all right. We couldn’t have lost everything. Things like
this didn’t happen to people like us.
    Mum stood up. ‘Would you like a hot drink now, Paige?’ she asked.
    As if that will make everything all right
, I thought, but I nodded anyway. I felt stunned by their news.
    Dad got up and left the room.
    As I sat there, trying to take in the enormity of what they had just told me, I felt cold. So, not divorce. No. This was much,
much
worse.

Chapter Three
    I awoke the next day in my queen-size bed. My room had been decorated last year – a soft lavender colour with mauve velvet curtains and bedspread. My dressing table and
stool were over by the window, a bookshelf packed with my favourite books by my desk on the other side, and opposite my bed was a wall-to-wall wardrobe. It looked fab, everything in its place. The
curtains weren’t fully drawn, the sun was pouring in and, for a moment, everything seemed normal, safe and cosy. A lovely spring Saturday morning and I could have a lie-in. As I snuggled down
under the covers, my mobile beeped that I had a message.
    It was from Allegra.
You OK?
    The conversation with Mum and Dad yesterday evening came flooding back. For a brief second it had seemed like a bad dream but the reality soon hit me. I’d called Allegra the moment
I’d got upstairs last night and, like me, she couldn’t believe it. I’d also found it hard to admit the whole truth to her. I felt a whole mix of emotions: embarrassed at our
situation, sad, sorry and ashamed. Like Mum had done last night, instead of stating the fact that we are now poor, I found myself using her more diplomatic words – our circumstances have
changed, it’s a temporary measure.
    It felt weird. I’d always told Allegra everything and part of me wanted to wail down the phone. This. Can’t. Be. Happening. But another part of me had gone into shock and
couldn’t let any real feeling out until I made more sense of it all in my head. Not that Allegra is snooty about money or anything, or at least I don’t think she is, but then I’d
never been in this situation before. I had a privileged life, as did everyone in my school. I quickly texted her back that I’d speak to her later, then I got up, put on my dressing gown and
headed downstairs.
    Mum was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in the kitchen. She looked up as I walked in.
    ‘How are you, love?’ she asked, her concern for me showing on her face.
    I slumped down opposite. ‘It’s a lot to take in. Being told that my . . . I mean
our
whole world has changed and yet