Normal too was Jodie’s breakfast of toast and coffee, the toast because she thought she should eat, the coffee to keep her awake. When she’d finished one of the slices, she pushed the other away and stood to get her laptop from the sitting room.

She sipped her coffee while she tapped out a reply to the nursing home saying she’d be interested in the part-time position and added that she was available for an interview whenever they wished, and happy to start as soon as they wanted. If they invited her for an interview, she’d explain her circumstances. Her union rep had said there was no reason she couldn’t accept another post pending the decision of the NMC. She hoped the nursing home felt the same way.

Now, she had to wait for their reply.

Her mobile was on the counter behind her. There was nothing else she could do. It was time to find out what Flynn had said.

She picked the phone up and stared at it for several moments, clamping her lips together when they started to tremble, determined she wasn’t going to shed any more tears. Her thumb slid along to the button and pressed. There were eight missed calls, seven voicemails and several texts. Leaving Flynn’s for last, she listened to a voicemail from the recruitment agent, Nate. He sounded puzzled and asked her to give him a ring to discuss the interview. She guessed Graham Barker hadn’t yet told him the situation. She deleted the voicemail, and his contact details. He’d get the message.

A missed call from Rivka would be her friend ringing for a chat. Jodie would call her later and fill her in on the latest chapter in her increasingly ridiculous life.

Then it was down to the ones from Flynn. The first voicemail was shortly after he arrived at her door. Three more followed in quick succession, increasingly worried and puzzled. The next, if the voices and background sounds were any indication, was made on the train on his way home. And the final voicemail she guessed was in his apartment, the background quiet, his voice sombre. ‘I don’t know what’s happening, Jodie. Please ring me. I’m worried about you.’

His text messages echoed the voicemails until a final one sent early that morning.

I thought we had something special. Maybe I was fooling myself. I don’t understand how you could simply cut me off like this. Please get in contact, tell me what I did wrong.

Aha! She put the phone down on the table and pushed it away. What I did wrong. She grabbed the phone and without thinking, sent a text.

You lied to me.

Then she deleted his details and blocked his number. She wished it were as easy to delete him from her head.