‘I went last week.’

‘Oh,’ I said, feeling even more foolish. ‘Fair enough.’

‘Right,’ he said, rubbing his hands together and for once not reassuring me that he would find a way to make it happen. ‘I better get on. The lads are waiting.’

‘Don’t stay out too late,’ Dolly called after him.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he called back. ‘Don’t forget, wear plenty of layers.’

‘How exciting,’ said Dolly linking arms once he was out of sight. ‘I wonder what on earth it could be.’

I didn’t answer. I was more preoccupied with wondering what on earth I’d said or done to upset him.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

That night my sleep was plagued with bad dreams featuring both of the men in my life. I didn’t much mind that Jonathan was going to end up hating me, but being in Beamish’s bad books was unbearable and that had translated painfully into my nightmare. All night I was either running away from Jonathan or reaching out to Beamish, through a thick, foggy haze. The second I was within reach he took another step away, his expression switching between sad, angry and repelled.

The following morning, I lay staring up at the ceiling long before there was even a hint of light creeping around the curtains, wondering if it was too early to call Jonathan and get the deed done. As loath as I was to look at him, I had decided that a Skype call, from Dolly’s bathroom where the signal was strongest, would be best. I needed to have eyes on him when I told him I was breaking it off. I had to be as certain as I could be of his reaction when I explained what I had decided and why.

And as for Beamish, I was hoping the images of him, conjured in my dream state, were nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination, rather than a true representation of how he was really feeling.

With a heavy heart, I crept into the bathroom and quietly closed the door.

‘Hattie,’ smiled Jonathan as his face appeared and filled the screen on my phone. ‘I wasn’t expecting to hear from you, especially at this time of day.’

‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’

I knew his routine better than my own. I certainly wouldn’t have woken him. By my reckoning he would have just finished making his protein shake and would be pulling on his trainers, ready to run to the gym.

‘Of course not,’ he said, resting the phone where I could see a wider view of the pristine flat that I was now able to admit I had never really felt at home in. ‘I was just getting ready to go to the gym.’

‘I thought you might be.’

‘But of course, I’d much rather be talking to you,’ he quickly added. ‘What have you been up to this week?’