After a while, I see a flattened track coming off the edge of the towpath and scramble down the bank, slipping on bare muddy patches, holding on to handfuls of weeds to stop me going headfirst into the canal. And then I’m in a place under the shadow of a bridge. Over on the other bank I see the occasional person walking past, but on this side I’m alone, hidden from view by two huge concrete pylons. I see a duck swimming around and around in circles, bobbing its head under the water every few seconds, and I wonder if it keeps its eyes open.

I lean against one of the pylons and let myself slide down on to the ground. The cool, damp concrete feels so good on my back, and just for a second it helps. But underneath my clothes my skin is tight and clammy, and I can feel every thump of my pulse like a jackhammer. Tranquila, chica. The only way out is through.

I close my eyes and suck in the world through my teeth.

The sound of water fades away. Fourteen, fifteen.

What’s your rush?

The only way out is through.

Thirty, thirty-one.

Distant wings beat a faint tiny drum.

That lovely wallpaper.

Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven. Louder now.

Nudging, twisting, burrowing like it’s got somewhere to be.

Beating, fluttering, banging in my chest.

Sixty-two, sixty-three, and the pain is green.

Cicadas, whirring. Tinny and shrill.

Seventy-four, seventy-five. Eighty.

Ribcage burns and the pain is purple.

It’s in every inch of skin. Every bone I own.

Passando.

Eighty-eight, eighty-nine. The pain is red.

Legs like lead. Noise thickens. Wings.

Stomach contracts like a shot. Atoms shiver.

The pain is grey.

I feel hot breath on my shoulder and I look behind.

The pain is black.

Vamos, chica. Come on, come on.

And I wonder.

What if I do.

39

Danny

I knew I’d made a bad call as soon as I pushed open the door of the Lamb and Flag, and the strains of Simon & Garfunkel swelled through the bass-heavy ceiling speakers like a welcoming party. What they said – darkness, me old mucker.

It made it all feel somewhat inevitable, and so, of course, it was.

After Wolfie had stormed out so dramatically, I’d gone down the obvious route of telling Lou that she’d cool down and be back in no time, but I had serious doubts about both of those things. I got a look at her expression just before she lobbed those mugs of tea, and even though it was only seconds before her game face came back down, I can’t deny it shook me. She looked terrified and confused and so, so young. It felt like I was seeing who she really was for the first time, and I knew immediately how badly we’d messed up.

The healthy glow Lou had been working on all those mornings on the patio had bleached back to ashen. I made her a cup of tea and left her redialling Wolfie’s mobile number every couple of minutes, while I went to clean up the corpse of Crystal Mickey. I felt bad for George, of course, but I couldn’t help being a bit smug that after all our run-ins, I’d outlasted that little glass rodent.