not be there if that’s OK. Let me know how much the cleaners charge and I’ll transfer half to you.
His reply was swift:
Don’t be silly, Ruby. I’ll sort that out. But how are you? I’ve been worried about you. Are you OK? x
I almost laughed. I was as far from okay as I’d ever been. I couldn’t bear to look round my new home, at its stained carpet, its sofa that made my back ache.
I’m OK. Thanks for dealing with the agents.
I hesitated, but didn’t put a kiss at the end. Those days were gone.
He replied instantly. I didn’t remember him replying so quickly when we were together.
Fancy coming round for a drink sometime? It would be good to see you again x
I didn’t know what to say. I was frightened of saying no outright and I was terrified that if I did accept, I’d find myself moving back in there. I had to force myself to remember what it was like at home and sometimes that was hard to do. I didn’t reply. I didn’t let myself think about the fact he’d see his message had been read. Quickly I turned off Read Receipts on my phone, though I knew he’d probably already seen that I’d read his message.
I left my phone at the flat so that I wouldn’t be tempted to reply. I went out for a walk along the river to the park and took my Kindle with me so that I could read in the sunshine. When I opened it, I saw a new book had been added. It was The Goldfinch.
Years ago, before Tom and I got together, we’d both read The Secret History by Donna Tartt. On the night we met he walked me miles through the streets of Liverpool, back to my home. One of the many, many things we talked about was that book. We loved it, more so because of that night. I’d been meaning to read The Goldfinch for years and just hadn’t got round to it. Now it was on my Kindle and the only person who could have sent it was Tom.
CHAPTER 37
Ruby
That evening, when I was cooking dinner, my phone beeped in the living room. The message was from Josh, my stepson.
Dad’s told me you left him. Didn’t you even think of saying goodbye to me?
Instantly I felt guilty. Josh had been a constant in my life since I’d met him when he was five. I’d wanted to talk to him, to tell him I was leaving, but Tom had forbidden it. I’d had to give in on that; Josh was his son and it was obvious that Tom would want to tell him first.
Hi Josh, I wrote, my fingers nervous and suddenly slick with sweat. Your dad told me not to contact you until he’d spoken to you. But why would I say goodbye? I assumed we’d still see each other. x
Josh and I had spent a lot of time together, more time than he’d spent with his dad. At times Tom would have to work away when it was his visiting time, so Josh would come over to our house and we’d hang out together. I liked him; even when he was a horrible teen he was still funny and he saved his anger for his dad, not me.
Why would we see each other? he replied. What’s the point?
Tears pricked the back of my eyes. I knew he was hurt and I wanted so badly to reassure him.
I love you, Josh. That’s the point. Just because I won’t be married to your dad doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you again. x
There was no reply. He’d be mortified, I knew, at my saying I loved him, but it had to be said. His relationship with me was separate from the one I had with his dad. I picked up my phone again and sent him my address.
Come and see me whenever you can. I miss you x
No reply again, of course, which left me plenty of time to worry that he wouldn’t want to see me. I was suddenly desperate to