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
‘I’m not saying heartbreak isn’t serious. But everyone gets down after they split up with someone they really liked.’
‘It’s more than that,’ Rachel insisted. ‘She keeps talking about how she’s got nobody, how shit her life is, saying she’s got nothing to live for. I think you should talk to her.’
What she had told me turned the blood in my veins to ice.
‘But without giving away that you talked to me?’
‘That would be ideal, yes. Like I said, she’d be really angry. If you could do something to cheer her up . . . show her she has got something to live for. What with you being so far away—’
‘I’m only up the road in London.’ It was seventy miles away.
‘I know. But you don’t see each other very often, do you?’
If I hadn’t been so concerned about Tilly, I might have felt affronted by this woman, whom I barely knew, hinting that I was neglecting my sister. Instead, along with the chill of concern, the main emotion I felt was guilt.
‘I need to think about what to do,’ I said, after contemplating Rachel’s words for a while. Part of me wanted to go straight back to Tilly’s and talk to her, but I agreed with Rachel’s planned approach. It would be better to be subtle. Plus I was so surprised by what I’d heard that I needed time for it all to sink in.
‘That sounds wise,’ Rachel said, displaying a rare smile. ‘Thanks, Andrew.’
‘No. Thank you. Tilly’s lucky she has someone who cares about her so much.’
Rachel picked up her crash helmet and ran a palm over its smooth dome. ‘If only she realised that.’
Back in London, I stopped for a coffee then headed for my connecting train.
My phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognise. My hopes surged – was it her?
‘Hello?’
The call disconnected.
Annoyed, I switched my phone off. I needed to forget her. Get over it. I hadn’t been dumped, like my poor sister. It hadn’t even begun.
My flat is on the fourth floor of a Victorian terrace. Once upon a time, I guess it would have been an attic. It was cramped and the climb up the stairs was exhausting, but the view was fantastic. I could see the shining great transmitter in Crystal Palace, plus, in the other direction, I had a clear view across the park towards the Gherkin. The neighbours were nice. And it had been all I could afford. Both Mum and Dad had been insured and the money was put into a trust for Tilly and me. On my insistence, most of the money went to Tilly, to buy her apartment, but I’d had enough to put a deposit on this flat and pay for my education.