Page 68 of Love at First Sight

Despite it all I still want him, even if that does make me a fool.

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I feel like the feisty female protagonist in a movie, as if life is suddenly a montage of me planning, sending emails and finalising details, all set to a thrumming music track about how the days have just begun and the rest of my life is unwritten. I’m on fire – which is good, because then I can ignore the dull ache in my heart for Henry. I see things, think things, and then remember I can’t tell him about them. I can only hope that Ali calms down and we reach a place where I can still see him, take him out for hot chocolate or to the park sometimes. In the meantime, I’m living off savings as I connect with the council to rearrange the Health and Safety assessment, and watch in awe as the pub wall gets transformed into a beautiful mural advertising us. India texts me the newsletter subscriber numbers every night, and it’s climbing steadily. Ramona has been true to her word and helped where she can, spreading the word of the project around and encouraging everyone she knows to tell their networks about it. She says she desperately wants it to be a success, and so she’s happy to tell as many people as possible, which is very, very sweet.

At the gym, I find I have new strength. There’s something about standing up for yourself, about taking the leadand going after what you want, that suddenly makes you very She-Hulk.

‘Yes, Jessie!’ Rain, our PT, cheers after I squat eighty-eight kilos three times. ‘Somebody has been eating their protein.’

I grin and say, ‘I’m feeling good.’

In between sets, Zoya asks if anyone knows much about the new thing happening at the park this summer.

‘My sister is desperate for it – some kind of free-range kids movement? I said I’d ask around. There’s a big advert for it on the art wall at the Hope and Anchor.’

‘That’s Stray Kids,’ says India, gleefully. ‘That’s Jessie’s thing! It’s going to be so good!’

Everyone turns to stare at me.

‘You kept that quiet,’ Rain says. ‘I’m on the newsletter list for that. My two will love it. Can you bump me up to VIP, so we definitely get in?’

‘If you’re doing that for her, you’ve gotta do that for my niece and nephew too, please,’ Zoya says. ‘Pretty please.’

I strip my barbell and say, ‘I’m feeling very flattered by your interest, guys. Thank you.’

‘So what’s the deal? Is this a new business venture for you?’ Rain asks. ‘Because you know I’m all about local enterprises. We’ve got a community WhatsApp group you can join where we all talk about Stokey’s business stuff, and we meet once a month in person too. You want in?’

I nod. ‘Yes!’ I say. ‘Thanks! Anything that could help.’

‘We could have helped sooner if you’d said what you were up to!’ Zoya says. ‘Do you need an extra pair ofhands? I’ve got a DBS certificate so I’m cleared to work with kids. I don’t want any of my own, but I’d help you out for a few hours.’

‘Hop aboard,’ I say. ‘The more volunteers the better. I think my dad is going to volunteer too. After the break-up he’s looking for some wholesome activities to fill his days. I can’t think of anything better than doing this surrounded by my favourite people!’

‘How’s your dad doing?’ India asks me later. ‘Still good?’

‘As far as I know,’ I say. ‘I’ve been so busy I’ve not checked on him as much as I’d like to, but I’m actually seeing him this afternoon for a quick coffee. I want to fill him in on everything.’

‘Nice,’ India says. ‘Tell him I say hi?’

‘Will do,’ I say.

But Dad isn’t okay. It is immediately obvious as I approach the house, because all the curtains are drawn. Something sinks in my stomach, my body clocking what my brain knows to be true: he’s drunk. I know it.

‘Hello?’ I say, using my key to let myself in. ‘Dad?’

He’s expecting me, so I don’t feel like I’m about to walk in on him doing a fan dance in the nude or anything, but then again, if he’s expecting me why hasn’t he cleaned up? The house feels fusty and has a strange smell. I spy Dad in the kitchen, at the far end of the dark hallway. He is slumped forward in his chair, and I lunge forward to see if he’s breathing. He looks pale and cold and … dead.

‘Dad?’ I say, hand on his head, lifting it up to see if he’s breathing. ‘Dad!’

‘I’m up, I’m up,’ he says, slurring his words. His eyes adjust when he sees me, smiling as he says, ‘Jessie! You’re early!’

‘We said three p.m., Dad,’ I say, glancing up at the kitchen clock to confirm I really do have the right time. ‘Have you been drinking?’ I ask. ‘Do you normally fall asleep at the table this way?’

‘Oh, stop fussing,’ Dad says, waving a hand. ‘I had a beer with lunch is all. Must have dozed off.’

I look over at the recycling bin, where there’s more than one beer can sitting atop it. He sees me notice.

‘Three beers, then,’ he says. ‘So shoot me.’

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