Page 15 of The Holiday Cottage

Maybe she should get a real dog to keep her warm. But given that she didn’t have a family who would step in and help when she needed them, that wasn’t an option. She kept her life as simple as possible.

The train was crowded and she stood squashed between commuters, avoiding eye contact. She was wedged between the metal pole and a man in a suit, and it occurred to her that this was the closest she’d been to a man physically in a long time. Maybe she should try dating again, although last time that hadn’t worked out so well. It seemed easier not to.

The train rattled its way through dark tunnels under the city, spewing out passengers at different destinations. As they drew farther away from the glamour and wealth of the city of London with its glass offices and sense of purpose, the crowd thinned a little and Imogen was finally able to sit down.

She stared straight ahead, careful not to look at anyone. Careful not to attract attention.

Finally, the train reached her stop and she was one of only a couple of people left on the train.

She left the station and buttoned her coat over the bag she wore across her body. She’d been mugged two months before and had her bag stolen, so now she stayed alert for the five-minute walk between the station and her home. The contrast between the glitzy glass building where she worked and the area where she lived couldn’t have been more marked. Even the overoptimistic letting agent had choked on the words “up and coming” as he’d shown her around. It said a lot that the apartment had even been available for her to look around. The rental market in London was so hot that the moment something became available, desperate people offered up overinflated deposits in order to secure it, often without even viewing. No one had viewed Imogen’s place. Apparently, even desperate people had limits.

She picked her way along the street, past the rubbish that hadn’t been collected, past the two houses that were boarded up and the shopping trolley that someone had abandoned. A streetlight flickered, throwing dark shadows across her path. The temperature had plummeted during the day, and it promised to hit freezing overnight.

Heading down the steps that led to her tiny studio flat in the basement, she wondered what her colleagues would say if they knew the truth about her life.

She didn’t live in a pretty garden flat with room for Midas to run around. No self-respecting dog would have set a paw inside her cramped living accommodation.

But that was all fine because she’d chosen to live here for a very good reason. Financial security. She could have afforded somewhere closer to the center of London, but that would have taken a large bite out of her salary. This place enabled her to save a good amount each month and, in her opinion, it was worth the sacrifice. She already had almost enough for a deposit on a modest place, but she was more ambitious than that. She wanted to fall in love with somewhere. She wanted ahome.Somewhere that was all hers. Whenever she had doubts about her accommodation, she checked her savings account and felt a surge of pride and satisfaction.

She bolted the doors and took off her coat.

Living here wasn’t so bad. It was a step up on most of the places she’d lived as a child, and she was used to surrounding herself with things that made her feel soothed and safe. She’d painted the walls green and bought two large plants so she could pretend she was in the countryside and not living alongside an abandoned parking lot and a railway line. The plants were fake, like most other things in her life, although in this case they’d been chosen not to deceive but because there was too little light in her flat for a real plant to survive. One entire wall was taken up by her bookcase, stuffed with books she’d bought at markets and charity shops. Knowing that someone had owned the books before her gave her a sense of connection. Someone else had turned those pages. Someone else had lost themselves in the same worlds she escaped to when she was alone.

The kitchen was tucked into one corner and she’d placed a small round bistro table by the only window. That was where she ate her meals. It was a lonely setup, but it worked for her.

She put her laptop on the table, made herself a slice of toast and sat down to check on the proposal they’d put together for the new client.

It was going to be a lot of work to implement the ideas they’d outlined, but she’d handle it.

Her phone pinged and she saw a message from Anya.

How is Midas?

She groaned and ignored it. Hopefully, Anya would assume she was busy.

How had she ever got herself into this situation? This couldn’t carry on. A conversation was harmless enough, but things were getting complicated.

She needed to get rid of Midas, but how did you get rid of a fictitious dog? Maybe he could die of his fictitious illness. She felt guilty that she was thinking of killing an animal and had to remind herself that this wasn’t a real animal.

No, she couldn’t do that. If she went into work and told people he’d died, they’d be smothering her with sympathy and offering her time off, and time off was the last thing she wanted.

She took a bite of toast and gazed at the wall. Maybe she could give Midas to her “family” in the country. But that just made the whole lie even more complicated.

And then she had a flash of inspiration. She’d say he’d run away. Yes, that was good. That would work. It was clean, neat and no one would be hurt. She could blame the dog walker (she felt bad about that too and had to remind herself that her dog walker was as fictitious as her dog).

She’d be sad for a while to have lost her best friend, but also stoic. It was just one of those things.Don’t give me sympathy or I’ll cry.And no, she wouldn’t be getting another pet. It was just too heartbreaking. Problem solved.

It would be a relief to get rid of at least one of the lies.

Maybe it was time for Jack to break up with her. No, that wouldn’t be good. Losing your dog and your boyfriend in such a short space of time either made you look sad or incompetent. She should be the one to break up with him.

Either way, it was time to simplify her life. She’d keep the family and the family home in the country, because they were useful conversation points at Christmas and other holidays and no one was ever going to find out the truth. But the rest of it was going to go.

Satisfied with her plan, she picked up her toast.

She’d taken another bite when her phone rang. The caller display said “Tina” and her mood plummeted.

Why now? Why today?

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