Page 57 of Glitterland
I had slowed to walking. A road ran by (though not to Camelot). Fields lay on either side.
Oh, fuck.
Lunatic Writer Lost in Essex.
Maybe I was going to be murdered. Torn apart by wolves. Maybe I’d starve to death under a hedgerow. What did a hedgerow even look like?
All right. These were not rational thoughts. That, at least, I recognised.
The important thing was not to panic.
Like a shark scenting blood in the water, anxiety rushed over me in a great, devouring wave.
No, really, Ash, don’t panic.
I fumbled for my phone.
Of course. Of course. I’d left it with my four-thousand-pound suit.
So I had a panic attack. A full-on heart-pounding, breath-choking, sweat-pouring, absolutely mortifying panic attack that sent me sobbing and shuddering to my knees in the middle of nowhere.
Minutes, hours, years, eternities later, I put myself back together. Still alive.
Somehow.
Still breathing and still alive.
I had two choices: I could go back, or I could go on. Going back was simply not an option. And didn’t they say all roads lead somewhere?
(Was this madness?)
I kept walking and, sure enough, in about five minutes I came to a roundabout and a sign pointing the way to Chigwell Station. Another five minutes, and the red circle with the blue line loomed out of the darkness like the word of God. I would never have imagined the Underground sign could have been such a wonderful sight.
I traced a route on the Tube map. Central line to Woodford. Central line to Bank. That was. That waseasy.
For a brief, fleeting, blissful moment, I felt in control of my world. I felt normal. And fuck Niall.
14
Back
Exhaustion set in after I’d changed trains, along with a heavy misery that seeped into me like winter drizzle. Darkness rattled past. But it was all right. That darkness was taking me home. I could pull it round me like a cloak. Occasionally I let myself think of Darian. It felt like poking at an open wound, but I couldn’t seem to stop.
Niall was sitting on the steps outside my flat, staring bleakly into the middle distance.
“My god, Ash.” He hauled himself up with the railing the moment he saw me approach. “I’ve been ringing and ringing. Are you okay? You look terrible.”
“Get the fuck out of my way.”
“How did you get home?”
“I took the train. Because sometimes, on very special occasions, I am almost a human being.”
He came towards me and I pulled back, glaring. “Ash, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t care. I never want to see you again.”
“Ash.” He spread his hands helplessly. “You have to understand. I never meant to hurt you. I was trying to protect you.”
