Page 100 of The Art of Loving You

‘Please, Libby. I’ve been a mess. I’ve been signed off work with depression since the mugging.’

‘It was more than a mugging.’

‘I know that. And I know I deserve to feel this way but you … you and the house have given me a focus and—’

‘You’re no longer welcome at the house so go back to your real job, Noah.’ I glared at him. ‘What is it that you actually do?’

‘I’m a journalist.’

‘That figures. You lie for a living.’

I walked away, barely holding my head up, barely holding myself up. I don’t know how I managed to drive home but somehow I did.

Jack wasn’t there.

I floated around the house studying every photo. Tracing his face. That smile. The curl of his hair where it touched his shoulders. He could have been here if he hadn’t helped Noah. Heshouldhave been here.

Minutes dissolved into hours.

Jack didn’t come.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, whether it was even the same day, before the front door opened and shut. Alice and Mum.

‘Libby?’ Alice asked cautiously. ‘Noah called me and said you were upset. He’s worried about you—’

‘Give. Me. Back. My. Key.’

I held out my hand. The noise was too much. I wanted to be alone.

Mum began to speak. I wished everyone would stop talking. Their voices were expanding. Filling the room. Filling my head.

Shut up.

I paced over to the window but the sunshine was too bright. My vision flickered.

Shut up.

Mum and Alice swam in and out of focus. I couldn’t see properly but I could still hear their voices. Worried. Angry. Loud.

Shut up.

Emotions built. Noise built.

Shut up.

My knees weakened. My hands gripped the radiator in a futile attempt to keep myself upright. The sky outside strobed light, dark, light, dark.

I could feel myself slipping, sliding, aware but not. I was still conscious but I couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

I could feel Alice shaking my shoulders, hear Mum calling my name but all I could see was Jack.

Chapter Thirty-Five

By the time the paramedics came, it – whatever ‘it’ was – had passed.

The paramedic, Christine, crouched down before me.

‘Libby, I’m going to take your blood pressure.’

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