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Chapters (59)
  1. Bad Friends
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. AFTER: DECEMBER
  6. BEFORE: JUNE
  7. Chapter One
  8. Chapter Two
  9. Chapter Three
  10. Chapter Four
  11. Chapter Five
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Chapter Twenty-Four
  31. Chapter Twenty-Five
  32. Chapter Twenty-Six
  33. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-One
  38. Chapter Thirty-Two
  39. Chapter Thirty-Three
  40. Chapter Thirty-Four
  41. Chapter Thirty-Five
  42. Chapter Thirty-Six
  43. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  44. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  45. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  46. Chapter Forty
  47. Chapter Forty-One
  48. Chapter Forty-Two
  49. Chapter Forty-Three
  50. Chapter Forty-Four
  51. Chapter Forty-Five
  52. Chapter Forty-Six
  53. Chapter Forty-Seven
  54. Chapter Forty-Eight
  55. A CONVERSATION WITH CLAIRE SEEBER
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  57. About the Author
  58. By the same author:
  59. About the Publisher

‘What?’ He suddenly turned to me. The scar above his mouth was paler than the rest of his skin as he smiled. ‘Does my hair look funny or something?’

I blushed. ‘No.’ I took a big slug of wine. ‘No. It’s just, I was thinking how – how sort of, relaxed you look. Here, I mean.’

‘Well, I am, babe. This is a very comfortable chair, I must say.’

‘No, I mean, comfortable in my home.’ I was getting a bit muddled now. ‘You just sort of – fit in.’ I bit my lip then. ‘Sorry. You probably think I sound a bit mad.’

‘Not very.’ He lowered himself to the floor where I lay propped against the sofa. ‘But I do know where I’d like to fit in.’ He picked up the remote and snapped the television off. The phone started to ring again.

‘Leave it,’ I murmured, as Seb idly unzipped my sweatshirt and ran his wineglass down my naked skin. Digby wandered off in disgust. The fire crackled and the wind moaned. Quite soon after that, so did I.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Seb had to be back by Monday afternoon for the tech run of Twelfth Night, so we left at practically dawn, heading up the motorway to London with Don Giovanni blaring in a vain attempt to cheer us up. The sky was grim and flat and the clouds menacing. I felt a curious tightening in my chest as we approached the capital. Seb read the paper he’d bought at the garage, and then some book about Shakespearean film adaptations. I was wrapped up in thoughts of how much I was dreading going back to work, and how I was going to have to take my chances with Charlie’s threats and get the hell out – although what to, I didn’t know.

My mood grew ever bleaker as we left my beloved hills and beaches far behind; as the landscape became greyer and more suburban by the minute, sucking us into the metropolis like a huge magnet. Even Digby looked miserable, twitching in his sleep on the back seat. Somewhere in Somerset we slowed behind a convoy of army trucks, crawling beside a great muddy field of grazing horses in their green blankets, and I gritted my teeth as a huge grey stallion wandered towards the fence. From time to time Charlie called my mobile but I ignored it. I’d sent him a text saying I was ill and sleeping.

Don Giovanni ended. A depressing debate on Radio Four about Care in the Community came on, which I promptly switched off, suddenly aware that Seb was scrutinising me.

‘What?’ I felt a prickle of discomfort.

‘Nothing.’ He chucked his book into the bag by his feet. ‘It’s just – you never finished telling me about your mum, you know, after you mentioned her the other day.’ That was a polite way of putting it. ‘You never really explained what you meant.’