‘Stella felt sick to her stomach. How could her marriage be over? She did the maths, counting it out on her fingertips – it was only eight hundred and sixty-four hours old. She hadn’t even finished writing the thank-you cards yet . . .’ Stella de Villiers doesn’t know which way is up. Rewind forty-eight hours and she has the perfect life. Married to a great guy. A super-supportive family around her. Awesome friends. In fact, the only fly in her ointment is that her job is, well, just a bit crap. As sex column agony aunt Dr Dee she has to deal with a slew of correspondence about the ickiest of things when all she really wants is to be taken seriously as a journalist. And then, just when it seems like things can’t get any worse on the work front, Stella’s dream job – features writer – is given to the uber-cool Yolanda. Upset and disappointed, Stella calls her husband Max to tell him what’s happened, but instead she tells a small untruth – just a little white lie – that slowly but surely unravels her whole perfect universe. Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, Poppy is on the trip of a lifetime with her best friend Buck. America, India, Holland, Germany, France – for a twenty-one-year-old Capetonian who’s never been further than Hermanus it’s a whole new world. But will Poppy find more than she bargains for on her travels? Is she falling in love with travelling or falling in love while travelling? How do you tell which way is up when you don’t even really know where you are?