Chapters (42)
- Cover
- Praise for Luan Goldie
- About the Author
- Also by Luan Goldie
- Note to Readers
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Acknowledgements
- Extract
- Saturday, 4 May 1996
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- About the Publisher
‘You’re not helping at all.’ She’s able to laugh along, but it’s become tiresome living in a partial building site. Though over the last few weeks things have bothered her less than they should and she knows it’s because Lewis has ‘unofficially’ moved in. His mum had complained about him getting under her feet and he took on a contract at a new gym a ten-minute drive from Yvonne’s flat, so it made perfect sense that he stay with her. It wasn’t even discussed, it just happened. So when the heating doesn’t work, he’s right there next to her and when the alarm goes off at night it’s him that goes outside to charm the neighbours and apologise. And while he keeps talking about buying his own place, a little flat back in Harrow close to his family, she hopes he never will.
She puts what is surely the hundredth frozen pizza in the oven and tuts. ‘You know, there are things other than pizza I can eat?’
‘Yeah, like chicken, lamb, beef—’
‘Are we really having this conversation again?’ she laughs.
‘I even bought a bag of salad,’ he says as he empties the rest of the shopping.
‘A salad? That’s unlike you.’
‘You keep going on about being healthy. Plus, I’m getting love handles. How can I work at a gym and have no time to actually go to the gym?’
‘You could have gone tonight if you wanted.’
‘After the day I had, all I wanted to do was come home and eat pizza with you.’
Home. Is that how he sees it here? Is that what she is to him?
He slides his hand up the back of her T-shirt, but his hand is cold against her skin. ‘Doesn’t take much to make you shiver, does it?’
‘I’m cold,’ she says coyly.
His phone buzzes between them. They both laugh and he lets go of her to take it out. He frowns, causing the appearance of that one little line between his eyebrows.
‘All okay?’ She takes the bottle of Bell’s whisky from the bag and looks for the glasses.
‘Emma’s been trying to ring me,’ he says.
‘Maybe Kiama wants to speak to you.’
‘No, we spoke last Sunday.’
‘So? Call her back. I do get that you two need to speak to each other.’ It’s the most she’s ever said to this effect. But it’s important, as they get more serious, that he appreciates how understanding she is of ‘the situation’. He and Emma have a kid together, and she’s completely fine with the idea that they need to communicate. Just as they always have.