'Aunt Cerys? Why are you dressed nice?'
Sarah's words were a harsh reminder of just how rare it was that I ditched my old faithful jeans, in favour of a posh frock. My wardrobe was a harsher reminder that I owned very few items that anybody would consider date worthy. Kevin sniggered and groaned as he threw garments at me that either I hadn't worn in years, or honestly couldn't remember buying. Some of them were relics, and wouldn't look out of place in a museum of fashion failures.
'Sarah likes this dress.' I had to be firm with him, or we could be here all night. I'd already double booked myself and I didn't need Kevin excavating the contents of my horror of a wardrobe when in just an hours’ time I was due to arrive at the home of my s****l deviant boss.
'It needs a belt' Kevin argued
