Chapters (70)
- COVER PAGE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- DEDICATION
- PROLOGUE
- PART I BIRTH
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- PART II LIFE
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- 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
- PART III DEATH
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
‘Well, we’ve kind of lost the rest of the group,’ he points out.
‘Fancy a nightcap?’ As soon as the words leave my mouth I try to reel them back in. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I know—not really appropriate …’
He smiles at me. ‘I think it’s completely appropriate.’
We walk up the road and through my overgrown front yard.
‘So, you’re a keen gardener then?’ he asks wryly, stopping to observe the weeds which are almost thigh height.
‘My housemate Winnie calls it the ecosystem of life,’ I tell him. ‘There are lizards and stuff living there. We can’t just knock down their house!’
He looks at me and we both start laughing again.
Still laughing, I open the door and we enter number 19, leaving the outside world conveniently far behind us.
I listen for my subconscious, expecting resistance, but there’s none. Excellent!
FORTY-FIVE
forty-five
The house is in a terrible state. My bedroom is so messy not an inch of floor can be seen, with at least two pizza boxes sitting somewhere inside my bedclothes, so there’s no way I’ll be inviting him up.
He insists upon the tour anyway, and though I try to block him from looking into my room he’s so tall that my attempts are hopeless.
‘Oh my God! You’re the messiest person I’ve ever seen!’
‘I told you we can’t go in there!’
I also realise that my offer of a nightcap is a little optimistic as all we have in the house is a seedy old bottle of red, and all our wineglasses are dirty. I serve the wine anyway, in two matching Christmas mugs.
‘I love what you’re doing with the mugs,’ he says, grinning at his Santa mug and my Christmas tree. ‘It’s so kitsch.’
‘Well, I like to make a statement.’ I try not to shudder too obviously as I sip wine reminiscent of arsenic from my own mug. ‘You know how it is.’
Lucas Lang is pretty cool. He’s taking it all in his stride. In fact, I feel surprisingly comfortable hanging out with Dr Lucas Lang (top cardiothoracic surgeon) on my couch in my hovel of a living room.
‘Do you live with anyone?’ he asks.
I try not to laugh. Max, as I discovered when Lucas went to the bathroom—I can only imagine what kind of state that’s in—is at this moment lying in bed covered in chips, drunk as a skunk. I’d woken him up with a firm prod of the shoulder.
‘Yurghhhh,’ Max slurred, half opening his eyes. ‘Whaddyawant, Kitty?’
‘I thought you were staying at your mum’s!’ I hissed.
‘She started hassling me to pay her board again.’ He tried to sit up, looking irritated.
‘Don’t come out of your room!’ I whispered urgently.
He tried without success to focus on my face. ‘Why not?’
‘Dr Lang’s here,’ I whispered.
‘The cardiothoracics guy?’