BooksBarbecue
Back Afterlove Save as PDF
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

That’s when I see him, the guy in the foetal position on the concourse. There’s a group of people gathered around him, looking at one another as a man in a neon yellow jacket paces back and forth, speaking into a walkie-talkie. Then I see the blood – bright and Rothko red – spreading out from under him, almost touching the shoes of the people around him as they gasp and step back.

I realise then why Poppy is so hysterical.

I turn back to her, taking her face in my hands and waiting for her to look at me. ‘I’m OK.’

She lifts her eyelashes to look at me, her eyeliner smudged and mascara-coloured tears skidding down her cheeks as she reaches for the front of my leather jacket and fists her hands in it.

‘I thought he stabbed you,’ she says with a heave and a sob.

‘I’m fine. See?’ I pull up the front of my jumper to show her my bare stomach.

She spins me round, lifting the back of my leather jacket to check there as well, the cold air against my exposed skin making me shiver.

Content that I really am OK, she spins me round again and pulls me into a hug.

‘I thought he stabbed you,’ she says again, sobbing into my neck.

‘It’s OK, Pop,’ I whisper into her hair, hugging her back. ‘It’s OK.’

When she steps back and finally takes a breath, I reach for her hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

images

Poppy insists on getting a cab, saying that she just wants to go home. We sit in silence in the back seat, forced to listen to a piece on LBC with Ann Widdecombe insisting that science could produce an answer to being gay. Or at least I’m listening to it, but when I turn to Poppy, she’s looking down, playing with the ring on her thumb – the silver one with the red heart-shaped stone with a dagger going through it – as the cab rolls down Marine Parade, the sea to our right.

I can’t help but think of my mother then, wondering how she’d react if she knew what just happened at the station. I haven’t really thought about it until now, too concerned with reassuring Poppy that I was OK and getting her out of there. But now everything is quiet – too quiet – Poppy stiff with shock on the back seat next to me, her face paler than I’ve ever seen it, I allow myself to think about it.