I called the automated number and logged that I would be off that day.

I slept, more heavily than I had for days, and when I next woke, it was nine o’clock and sunlight was gently warming my face through the open curtains. I got up in slow, experimental increments, and was surprised to find that I felt quite human. I wasn’t feeling sick and I had an almost pleasant spacy, light feeling in my limbs.

I had a long, hot shower and, by the time I emerged, I was hungry. I made toast and peanut butter and ate it along with two cups of strong tea, coffee still feeling like a bridge too far.

I went into the living room and idly switched on the television. I flicked through options on Netflix and Amazon, but the prospect of an afternoon’s self-indulgent box set bingeing, which would ordinarily be so appealing, held no pleasure. It wasn’t the same without Anya.

As I stared at the telly without taking anything in, an idea bloomed in my mind so suddenly that I sat upright, my heart beating harder.

I couldn’t do it. Could I? What if I was seen by someone from school?

But even as all the very valid objections were scrolling across my mind’s eye, a powerful instinct was tugging me to my feet and over to my phone to look up train times.

I could go to London for the afternoon. If I was lucky with trains, I’d be in town in plenty of time to meet Anya at one, when she took her lunch hour, regular as clockwork. I could surprise her; take her out for lunch. Hadn’t she just been saying she was sick of me being predictable? Well, not exactly, but that’s what it had sounded like to me. It couldn’t hurt to show her that I could play hooky from school and do something spontaneous. I’d just be careful, that’s all. I’d get a cab over to Ashington and catch the fast train.

Staying in the house on my own all day wasn’t an option. I needed to clear my head, get some perspective on everything that had been happening. Reconnect with Anya and stop all this paranoid stuff once and for all.

IRENE

Irene’s hand was sweaty and beginning to cramp but she didn’t feel she could move it. What if he was aware that she was here, just as the nurse had said might be possible? What if he thought she was abandoning him if she let go?

A sob spasmed through her from nowhere, like a cough she couldn’t suppress, and she pressed her free wrist hard against her mouth in an attempt to keep the emotion inside. Crying was not going to help Michael. It took her a few moments of deep, ragged breaths before she was able to lower her hand again.