‘Wow.’

‘Yeah.’

I wondered how Daniel had managed it. Juggling work, grieving for his sister, dealing with the aftermath of such tragedy as well as a baby. No wonder the house was a shambles.

‘Charlie never mentioned that Billie remarried.’

‘She didn’t know until afterwards. Mum wanted a quiet wedding. No drama. Charlie wasn’t in a good place around then.’

I did some mental calculations. Charlie’s dad had suffered a fatal heart attack not long after we started renting a flat together in London, four years ago. I was twenty-six. So Billie married when we were twenty-eight. I’d moved to a new flat by then. Charlie had left two days before Christmas and I’d given up waiting for her to come back (or pay any rent). I remembered a message on Valentine’s Day:

Wishing my 1 true love a beautiful V-day, hope U get to spend it with someone special.

I replied several times, messaging and calling to ask where she was and to let me know if she was okay. One reply arrived, a few days later:

Yh I’m cool met a guy who got me a waitress job, bit mad out here but fun.

That was the last time I heard from her until the final messages, sent just over a year ago:

BACK AT THE FARM. WHY AREN’T U HERE?? PLEEEEEEAAASE VISIT. STAYING FOR GOOD THIS TIME. LOTS OF NEWS, I’LL EXPLAIN WHEN UR HERE.

I’d sent a brief message explaining that I had work engagements booked out for several months ahead, but I’d see what I could do. She sent one last reply:

EL I NEED U! It’s different this time. PROMISE. Please come whenever you can xxx

But I’d grown tired of Charlie’s chaotic interruptions, hurtling back into my life, letting me down and disappearing again. Also, if I’m honest, because I’d become so caught up in my own life – which had morphed into something I’d never had foreseen – I never got around to it. Until now. When I needed her.

I don’t know quite how or when but, without ever meaning to, at some point I had become a horrible, self-obsessed person.

‘So you’ll stay?’ Daniel asked, snapping me back to the present day. I considered this for a moment. Forced myself to acknowledge my aching limbs, bruised chest, the fog still clogging up my thought processes. Then I tried to picture setting off in the car and hunting for somewhere to sleep before I conked out at the steering wheel. I imagined the look on my parents’ faces when I showed up looking like this.

Damson Farm was shabby and dishevelled, and a little bit dirty, if I’m honest. But this was Charlie’s home, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her yet. Something about this place had wrapped its arms around me and welcomed me in.

Peace.

I realised this later that evening, having managed a bowl of cheap tinned soup and more toast, before Daniel showed me to a bedroom where he’d left my bags neatly lined up against the metal bedframe.