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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

Actually, I bet it’s just something really sweet and simple, like a letter. A love letter. Oh, that sounds so mushy, so ancient; a gesture that belongs to a century long ago. Maybe Jack bought me a postcard, one from the stand by the till in Paperchase. You know, a unicorn with an avocado or something. The London Underground sign with a witty slogan as the station name. Maybe he wrote down how he felt, put his words into a stupid poem or changed around the lyrics of a song. That’s totally Jack. He knew that sort of thing would make me tick.

But why hide it behind the picture?

Why not just give it to me before I went to work?

The train emerges from the tunnel and my 4G returns. I pass the time scrolling through birthday messages on Facebook, mostly people I haven’t seen for years who aren’t aware of what’s happened to me this year. There’s a few who’ve acknowledged it, some keeping it subtle. Some, not.

Si Sully

How could I not? x

… and a YouTube link to ‘Being Alive’ from Sondheim’s Company.

Gareth Allen-Roscoe

HB. You deserve the world Heart Emoji

Carol Dooley

Happy Birthday dear Chloe. Your mum said you don’t want to celebrate this year and that’s understandable but hope you have a lovely day anyway and get spoilt rotten and enjoy a drink or three. See you soon. Your mum misses you loads. Love Carol and family. Xxxxx

Under an old photo of me as a baby:

Sue Roscoe

Can’t believe I’m the mother of a thirty-seven year old. Where does the time go? Always a baby to me Chloe Roscoe love you millions xxx

There’s never been a better time to delete my account.

I tap through the settings, get a bit lost in the whole app. Why’s it so hard to delete? And hold on – if I do delete it, do I lose everything? Forever? Maybe I need to spend some time going through my profile, seeing what I want to keep and what I’m happy to kiss goodbye to.

I abandon Facebook – it’s too complicated to think about – and switch to Instagram. I find the unread message from Justin, still there …

Shit! The train doors slide open and I almost miss my stop!

Almost.