efore you say it, no.

There is nothing weird about hiding in a cupboard. C. S. Lewis based an entire series of books on the premise that this is what normal people do on a regular basis. Anyway, I don’t have any other choice. This is the only piece of furniture in Japan I can fit either into or under.

I shut the door firmly, turn on the light and slump into a large cardboard box full of towels and drying-up cloths. Then I plug my phone in and rummage around until I find one of Poppy’s banished chocolate bars. I cram as much of it into my mouth as will physically fit, turn my phone on and hit speed dial.

“Hi. It’s Nat. Leave a message or don’t. Whatever. I’ve probably already been eaten by a sheep anyway and this phone is now lying in a big pile of poo, just like my life.”

BEEP.

I guess Nat is still pretty angry with her mum. At least I hope she is, or judging by that message this is going to be the beginning of a really weird and slightly depressing sixth form.

“Hey,” I say. “It’s me – I just needed to …”

This is not OK. I can’t just steal my best friend’s modelling dream and then sit in a cupboard, whining about it. A soulmate’s job is to make somebody’s day better, not worse.

I swiftly adopt my brightest, breeziest, happiest voice and spoil the surprise present I bought for her.

“Umm … Nat, you know you said that looking like a My Little Pony was super cool, right? Well, I found these amazing rainbow hair extensions in Harajuku. What colour would you like? Pink? Purple? Turquoise?” I pause and try to swallow a hard, distinctly unbreezy lump in my throat. “Anyway. Hope things are getting better in France. It’s all amazing here and I’m having soooooo much fun.” Rein it back, Harriet. “I miss you. Bye.”

Then I hang up, shove another chocolate bar into my mouth and try a different number.

“Hello. This is a digital recording of the electromagnetic wave of Toby’s voice, which has been encoded on to a binary system of data. Leave your own electromagnetic wave, and I will call you back when I’ve finished playing Plants versus Zombies but that could be a while because frankly it’s almost impossible to get through the iron bucket on their head with a few bits of sweetcorn and a cabbag—”

BEEP.

I swallow the chocolate whole. Nat can be quite flaky in the mornings, but Toby always answers his phone. Especially when it’s me. It’s one of his most redeeming characteristics.

Seriously, what is the point in having a stalker if they’re not at your beck and call whenever you need them?

“Toby? It’s Harriet. I’m just ringing because …”

Because everything’s going wrong and I want him to make me feel better? Because even though I left without saying goodbye, it’s his job to be there for me regardless? Because all I’m thinking about is myself?

Again?

“Umm …” I clear my throat. “I thought you should know that if you laid all the Lego bricks sold in one year end to end they would stretch five times round the world. You can put that as a pop-up box in your Lord of the Rings video. You know, make it a bit more interactive.” My phone makes a tiny pinging noise. I knew those facts about Lego would come in handy one day. “I hope you’re having a great summer, Tobes. Speak soon.”

Then I hang up miserably and click on the text that’s just come through:

HARRIET STOP RING ME ASAP STOP WE NEED TO TALK STOP WILBUR KISS KISS STOP

I stare at it in confusion – my agent seems to be under the impression that his phone sends Morse code – and then close my eyes.

Did Wilbur just call me Harriet?

Oh my God: I am in so much trouble.

Eyes starting to well up again, I desperately search through my contacts for somebody else to talk to and realise I’ve run out of options already. Unless I want to confide my problems in one of my local bookshops or the National Trust.

Which means I’m going to have to do what no self-respecting teenager does under any circumstances.

I’ll have to ring my parents.