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Back Love, Almost Save as PDF
Chapters (52)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. EPILOGUE
  48. Acknowledgements
  49. Keep Reading …
  50. About the Author
  51. By the same author:
  52. About the Publisher

‘In fact,’ I continue, no stopping me now. ‘We always kind of joke about how one day we’ll go back there, to that spot, and find that man. Or go to the place where he works, because can you see he’s wearing a uniform and there’s a badge, see? Top right of his shirt. We just wanna meet this fella – say a proper hello! Ask him what he was doing in the shopping trolley. Find out his name; shake his hand.’

I’m expecting some sort of response, but I get zilch. The thick silence sits in the triangle between us all. I realise I just talked at John and Trish using Jack in the present tense. I hadn’t meant to do that, but they naturally picked up on it, loud and clear. I hug the paperback plays tight; feel them squash against my braless chest.

Trish stretches out her arm and taps the breakfast bar three times. This must be some sort of code for them to leave, because John stands up, puts his hand to the small of Trish’s back and picks up her orange Michael Kors handbag, carrying it for her. They float past me like ghosts and disappear into the hallway.

‘Look, I’m so sorry for your loss,’ I call after them.

They pause by the bookshelf, a particularly creaky floorboard beneath their feet. John looks over his shoulder and gives me a pained, but kind, smile. Trish is frozen, the back of her head facing me.

‘Take all the time you need, Chloe,’ she says. ‘We won’t be coming back here today.’

And she opens the door and leads the way outside, John following, his head bent low. He closes the door behind him gently, but the flat seems to shudder, just as it does every time a double decker bus trundles past the road. Oh God. I want to run after them, ask them seriously, what the fuck happened? Who is to blame? There’s always somebody to blame, isn’t there? And how … how did he actually—

SLAM!

I run into the kitchen. Jack?!

5

I spin a full circle, expecting him to spring up from behind the breakfast bar and shout ‘BOO!’ – I know there’s a good chance I’m losing the plot.

It’s just the back door shutting, from the draught when Trish and John left.

‘You never told them about me,’ I say.

The silence pinches me, hard.

I go to the fridge and take out the plastic tray of grapes. I think I’m hungry. Or thirsty.

Neither.

Jack will never be hungry or thirsty again.