in the end I get up, wrap my robe around myself, and stagger down the stairs to find some aspirin. I’ll follow the Drug Your Way to Health regime, I decide. Just for this morning. And I’m on the bottom step when a new text pings into my phone, making my heart lurch with nerves. It’s from Seb.
I don’t know, are we?
I gaze at it, my temples throbbing. I don’t know how to reply. If I say yes, do I sound too complacent? Obviously I’m not going to say no. What I really want to say is, I don’t know, are we? but that sounds like I’m copying him.
The main thing, I tell myself, is that he replied. Within two minutes. So he’s thinking about me too. And maybe the best thing is not to text again yet but to call him later, only I must have an aspirin first….
I push open the door of the kitchen and nearly die of shock. Ryan is sitting at the kitchen table, scooping cereal into his mouth.
“What are you doing here?” I clutch the doorframe.
“Morning.” He shoots me a dazzling smile, but I don’t return it.
“What are you doing here?” I try again. “What— How—” I feel like I might be going mad. Is Ryan part of my dystopian fantasy? Have I conjured him up to torture myself?
“Jake gave me a key, said I could stay over in his old room.” Ryan winks suggestively. “He told me you wouldn’t be here; otherwise, I would have come visiting.”
“You’re vile.” I glare at him. “I want you out.”
“Give me a chance!” says Ryan, gesturing at his breakfast. “I haven’t finished! Although these cornflakes are pretty gross,” he adds, wrinkling his nose.
“They’re Nicole’s,” I say. “They’re spelt flakes.”
“You moron,” I want to add. “Can’t you read the packet?” But that would be engaging with him, when what I want is not to engage with him, ever again.
“Spelt,” he says thoughtfully, finishing his last mouthful. “Huh. Figures.”
“Go,” I say sternly. “Now.”
“So, how have you been?” He leans back in his chair, running his eyes over me in a way that would have had me melting on the floor once upon a time. “I’ve been hoping you might call me.”
He’s been hoping I might call him? I open my mouth, about six furious responses on my lips, then stop myself. Do not engage, Fixie. It’s what he wants.
“Go,” I repeat. “Just go.”
“I’m going!” He lifts his hands, looking amused. “Make me a coffee first, though.”
Make him coffee? Is he for real?
“Go! Leave! Vamoose!”
“Oh, I took some chewing gum out of your bag,” he adds, pointing to where my tote bag is hanging on a chair. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Go!” I say, and now I really am feeling enraged. I look around wildly, see the broom propped up against the wall, and pick it up. “Go! Out!” I start prodding it at him, trying to make him stand up. “Out!”
“Fixie, you’re hilarious,” says Ryan, finally standing up. “I’ll see you soon, babe.”
Babe? That’s the final straw.
Lifting up the broom like a jousting pole, I charge fiercely at him with a kind of war cry, and he gives a jump of surprise, then half-walks, half-runs, as I prod him bodily down the hall.
“Go!” I’m shouting. “Leave and never come back! You are not allowed in this house!”
“Looking good, Fixie,” he says, as I shove him out of the door. “I’ll call you.”
“Please don’t! Ever!”
I slam the door shut. Then I lean against it, panting slightly and even starting to laugh as I remember his expression when I charged at him. He was actually a bit freaked out.
At last I head back into the kitchen, take my aspirin, and sit for a bit, letting all the events of yesterday swirl round my brain. Leila, weeping into her manicure set. Uncle Ned, spluttering at me in rage. Morag, I suddenly think. Oh God. I need to sort out Morag. And Jake…and is Mum OK?
I’m still sitting there, in a bit of a trance, when the door opens and Jake strides in. I gape at him, feeling I must be in a dream. First Ryan, then Jake? He’s dressed as smartly as ever, in a well-cut suit and tie, but his face is shocking. He looks drawn and pale and there’s an angry jut about his chin, as though he wants to smash the whole world.