Chapters (50)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication Page
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Ninteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Epilogue
- Letter From the Author
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
After she’d left the room I wandered into the living room. The TV was on and muted, the sink full of food, pasta splattered up the wall. A smashed glass lay on the floor.
The picture of me and Sasha on holiday had been taken down, removed from its frame, torn into strips and left on the carpet. I picked it up, shook my head. I could picture Charlie here during the night, drinking, going crazy, like a wild animal in a cage. I was amazed that she hadn’t bombarded me with calls or texts, hadn’t done so at all. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted me to know how she felt, had wrestled to control it, but finally lost the battle.
Charlie was taking ages in the bathroom and concern sent me into the bedroom to check she didn’t have the knife with her. I remembered it was under the chest of drawers and was bending to retrieve it when she came into the room behind me. I stood up and turned to meet her.
She had washed her face and pinned her hair up. Although she was still very pale, she looked a lot better, the mascara tears scrubbed away, her wild hair tamed. She wore a loose T-shirt and pyjamas bottoms. Her expression was sheepish.
‘Come here,’ I said, hugging her. My body felt alien, adrenaline draining, replaced by a profound tiredness. I guess I was in shock.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.
We sat down together on the bed, holding hands.
‘I don’t want to make any excuses,’ she said. ‘I was fine when you told me you were staying over, at first. Then I started drinking, got quite drunk, and I looked up and saw the photo of you and Sasha and started to feel paranoid. I guess . . . I worked myself into a frenzy over the next few hours.’
‘How’s your stomach?’ I whispered.
She pulled up her T-shirt and looked down. The scratches were shallow. ‘Quite sore. But I’m too much of a wimp to really hurt myself.’
‘Have you . . . have you done that before?’ There were no scars on her body so I knew she had never self-harmed in that way.
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘I promise you, Charlie, there is nothing between Sasha and me. I have no interest in any other women. I love you.’
‘I know. I’m an idiot.’
‘I’m so tired. Can we talk more later?’
‘OK. I’m exhausted too. You won’t believe what happened—’
She held up a hand. ‘Later. Please.’
‘All right.’