BooksBarbecue
Back Afterlove
Chapters (86)
  1. Title Page
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Love
  4. Before
  5. One
  6. ONE
  7. Two
  8. TWO
  9. Three
  10. THREE
  11. Four
  12. FOUR
  13. Five
  14. FIVE
  15. Six
  16. SIX
  17. Seven
  18. SEVEN
  19. Eight
  20. EIGHT
  21. Nine
  22. NINE
  23. Ten
  24. TEN
  25. Eleven
  26. ELEVEN
  27. After
  28. One
  29. ONE
  30. Two
  31. TWO
  32. Three
  33. THREE
  34. Four
  35. FOUR
  36. Five
  37. FIVE
  38. Six
  39. SIX
  40. Seven
  41. SEVEN
  42. Eight
  43. EIGHT
  44. Nine
  45. NINE
  46. Ten
  47. TEN
  48. Eleven
  49. ELEVEN
  50. Twelve
  51. TWELVE
  52. Thirteen
  53. THIRTEEN
  54. Fourteen
  55. FOURTEEN
  56. Fifteen
  57. FIFTEEN
  58. Sixteen
  59. SIXTEEN
  60. Seventeen
  61. SEVENTEEN
  62. Eighteen
  63. EIGHTEEN
  64. Nineteen
  65. NINETEEN
  66. Twenty
  67. TWENTY
  68. Twenty-One
  69. TWENTY-ONE
  70. Twenty-Two
  71. TWENTY-TWO
  72. Twenty-Three
  73. TWENTY-THREE
  74. Twenty-Four
  75. TWENTY-FOUR
  76. Twenty-Five
  77. TWENTY-FIVE
  78. Twenty-Six
  79. TWENTY-SIX
  80. Twenty-Seven
  81. TWENTY-SEVEN
  82. Twenty-Eight
  83. TWENTY-EIGHT
  84. Eleven Months Later
  85. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  86. Copyright

I message her in the launderette, while I’m shoving my clothes in the machine. Message her in ASDA when my mother dispatches me to the bakery to get a baguette. Message her in church on Sunday while my parents aren’t looking. I fall asleep messaging her and wake up to a Morning, babe WhatsApp with a sun emoji.

I’m drunk on it – on Poppy – so by Sunday evening, I’m weak at the thought of seeing her the next day. I think I’m being super subtle about it, but I’m obviously not because my mother snatches my phone halfway through Songs of Praise and says, ‘No girls until after your GCSEs.’ I’m so startled that I just gape at her as she hands it back. I’m used to it – it’s what she always tells Rosh and I: No boys until after your GCSEs – but she said it. She may have waited until my father wasn’t in the room, but she did. I heard her say it and I want to grab her and hug her because I don’t think I’ve ever loved her so much.

Girls.

Maybe she’s coming around after all.

I can’t sleep after that and lie in bed, looking up at the ceiling as I listen to the steady hum of the sewing machine coming from the living room and picture my mother hunched over it, working on the christening gown someone at church has asked her to make.

It’s as much a part of the soundtrack to our house as the television and the dog barking next door, and it usually lulls me to sleep. But tonight it tugs me back each time I feel myself giving into the weight of my eyelids as I think about what my mother said when she caught me messaging Poppy: No girls until after your GCSEs. And yes, I know I’m doing it again, letting myself get carried away, but I can’t help but wonder if this is it.

If Poppy is the one.

The one I tell my parents about.

The thought makes my whole body shiver and when I roll on to my side and pull the duvet to my chin, there’s a faint flash of light that illuminates the dark room for just a moment. I assume it’s Rosh, using the torch on her phone to read the book that my father told her to put away two hours ago, but when I look across at her, she’s fast asleep, her phone in one hand and the book in the other.

That’s when I realise it must be mine and reach up for it, taking it off the bedside table to find a WhatsApp from Poppy.

16 hours and 8 minutes xx