‘I don’t know,’ Jake pondered. ‘I’d already asked him for help, but he turned me down.’

‘So I’m second choice?’ Neve didn’t look too impressed. Now she knew how he felt.

‘Perhaps he’s jealous,’ Jake said. ‘Now that we’re officially together.’

‘Pip?’ she said. ‘No. Pip’s cool.’

Was he? Jake thought. His eyes followed his friend out of the room and he wondered how close his jealousy theory was to the truth. It was an undeniable fact that something was definitely bugging Pip.

Chapter seventeen

Chapter seventeen

I am calm. There is a big bubble of calm floating inside me. I’m so calm, I’m surprising myself. Jake phoned this afternoon, while I was at work, and asked if he could come round this evening. I’m trying to feel furious at him, but instead I just feel horribly, horribly disappointed and let down. Where I thought there’d be anger and pain, there’s only deadness and a resigned acceptance and, maybe lurking in there, some sort of relief that this is not entirely my fault.

I’ve spent half an hour on the phone to Edie and it was she who helped to talk me into this collected state of suspended anxiety. This is not the usual order of things. My sister is normally completely hopeless in a crisis and I’m normally the one she runs to when anything needs sorting out, but, my goodness, has she come through for me this time.

I’ve poured myself a glass of white wine and am sipping it relatively contentedly—if I ignore the anxious niggle I’ve had in my stomach since Jake left—when there’s a knock at the front door. I wipe my palms on my trousers and check my appearance in the mirror by the door, then I open it and let Jake in.

‘Hi,’ he said and he looks very sheepish. As well he might.

‘You didn’t need to knock,’ I say. ‘This is still your home.’

‘It doesn’t feel right.’

‘None of it does.’ I gesture at the bottle of wine. ‘Do you want a drink?’

‘No,’ Jake says. ‘I can’t stay long.’

‘I thought we were going to talk things through.’

‘I’ve just come to collect some stuff, Lyssa, and then I’ll be out of your hair.’

‘I don’t want you out of my hair. I want to sort out what we’re doing and why we’re doing it.’

Jake flops down in a chair like a sulky five-year-old and suddenly my calm aura departs and I get a surge of irritation so strong that I could slap him. And I can quite categorically state that I have never ever felt like slapping him before.

I go to pick up my wine, but my hand is shaking. ‘How are you getting on at Pip’s?’