head and said, “Nothing. I was just thinking how it’s a shame that when you’re an adult you don’t enjoy birthdays anymore.”
I’d spent a fortune on Tom that day, on a whiskey-tasting session for him and his friends in the daytime and a meal for us in Liverpool in the evening. I hadn’t wanted to and I couldn’t really afford it, but I’d done what I thought would please him. It wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t enough. And just a few days later the plastic bag had appeared on the landing. “Drop that off at the charity shop for me, will you?” he’d asked. When I’d looked inside, my gifts were there and I’d wanted to cry. I hadn’t touched it and the bag remained there, a symbol of everything that was wrong with us. Now I felt like kicking it out of the way but knew he’d see that as a sign of victory, so I stepped past it and went into the room.
I looked around. Apart from the books on the bookcase there was nothing here that I wanted. I’d come back for them later. Next to the bookcase was a closet for our winter jackets. I hadn’t packed mine as I wouldn’t need them for a few months. And then I realized I’d forgotten to pack something on my list and grimaced. I thought I’d remembered everything. There was a box on the shelf in the closet, squashed behind the spare pillows. I hadn’t seen it for a long time; I’d never felt strong enough. How could I have forgotten it?
Just as I reached for it, I heard Oliver’s car pull up into his driveway next door. His car door slammed and I pushed the box back behind the pillows, so that it was out of sight again. If Oliver saw me go down the drive to my car, he might see me and come out to chat. If he saw my car, full to the brim of my belongings, he’d want to know what I was doing, where I was going. I couldn’t risk that. I’d come back for the box another day.
Downstairs I paced the living room as I waited for Tom to come home. My heart thumped at what lay ahead but I had to do it. Now that I’d found the courage to go, I just wanted to get it over with.
I checked the clock. Where was he? I pulled my phone from my bag. There were no messages. I looked up the live departures page of the railway website; his train had arrived on time. He would be here soon. I tried to do some deep breathing, to count my breaths, but it just didn’t work. My breathing was too shallow; I could hear myself pant.
And then he was here, driving up the road, past my car, and turning into our driveway.
My knees buckled and I sat down suddenly. All of my senses seemed heightened with stress and my skin prickled furiously as I heard the bang of the back door, his voice as he called my name, his hesitation as he realized dinner wasn’t cooked.
And then the living room door opened.
CHAPTER 2
Ruby
Tom stood in the doorway, his tall, solid body almost filling the frame. His dark hair was damp with the heat of the day, his shirt crumpled now after the journey home. He could tell that something was up the moment he saw me. I was sitting on the sofa, frozen. His eyes darted around the room, but I was the only thing that was out of place.
“Ruby?” He sounded concerned and despite everything my eyes prickled. “Is everything all right?”
My throat was tight and I could hardly speak, but eventually I said, “Yes. Everything’s fine.”
He came farther into the room and instinctively I shrank away from him. He glanced at me and I knew he’d noticed that. Not much gets past him.
“What are you doing, sitting here in the dark? Are you ill?”
I shook my head.
“Your mum and dad? Are they okay?”
“They’re fine,” I said. I hoped they were, anyway. I hadn’t spoken to them for a few days. All I’d been able to think about was this moment; it