to say. I'll sleep well tonight.
Against all advice from people who love me I still can’t let it rest, it must be an ailment.
TC: “Saw Jess today” I try subtle.
DP: “Not that again” I fail
TC: “Getting into your car Daniel” that’s right, get it out I tell myself. Do you feel better now? Nope.
DP: “You’re point?” Evasion.
TC: “I have none” give up Tharie, you are defeated. Walk away, make some tea, though even tea has lost its taste, bloody hell, it’s really bad then.
DP: “Where are you?” A bone?
TC: “Studio” should I have told him that? Wasn't I warned against dating someone at work? 'Don't dip your pen in the company ink' wasn't it?
DP: “Wait there” hope? Should I allow myself that? Never expect anything from anyone, then you’ll never be disappointed. My Dad’s advice, sad, but true.
Daniel appears in my doorway, a wall of heat hits me he is so gorgeous, how am I to get over him? He's designed just for me isn't he? I have my coat on and my bag on my shoulder ready to leave for home, my chest tightens, he looks very good, if a little tired.
“Let’s stop this Tharie,” is all he says, running his fingers through his hair looking down at his feet, he sounds tired too.
“OK” is all I can manage, and grazing past him, he doesn't try to stop me, doesn't say another word, I head for the stairs and the sanctuary of the air outside, it’s dark but mild, I head home.
I’ll get tea at the station.
Chapter forty-two, Monday:11thnovember2013 lost
Flattening down the fabric of my jersey pencil skirt, its hem at my calf, wearing my new cone heel cowboy boots and a peplum top I look at myself in the mirror, the tools of the last week visible although I do still have a slight tan, I am thinner than I should be and tired too. Automaton all morning, work, then I can really get back into my swing. Daniel hasn't called, and neither have I, aren't we supposed to be grown-up? Do we ever really grow-up?
The boys had noticed it as soon as I stepped out of the car yesterday, and this morning they come wandering over to say hello and ask where have I been? Glad to be home I take another brain cleansing massive lungful of cold clean honest country air, wonder how my life is changing but all the important things are staying the same. Feeling a little better, I decide to be a denim designer and head into town to do some work. Yes, authentic, super soft, super lightweight, poly-twill denim, and I suddenly feel more like myself. It'll take a bit of getting used to, I think, but I can do it I’m sure of that.
Steffi managed it didn't she? Well...not really. Bloody hell.
I grab a Vogue alongside Horse&Rider, it's all about authentic denim and hoof-boots apparently, not much has changed there then I surmise. I check my favourite denim blogs, and seeping through the seams my passion for jeans is awakening, returning me to the familiar, and enlivening me.
Do my job, to be useful, the routine, the ritual, it's comforting.
I slide into the cold seat of my car, it's too old for heated seats, my breath's vapour fills the air instantly misting up my window. I start my Landrover and it rattles heavily trying to heat up, and putting it into gear I drive, I feel slightly sick to my stomach suddenly, wheezy and short of breath. My head begins to swim, I stop the car because 'safety first', then suddenly I don’t seem to care where I am or what I’m doing, then total velvety nothingness.
I feel oddly calm, a little chilly, and supremely sedated.
I open my heavy eyes and it smells clean, sterile, the air tastes artificial, pre cleaned and filtered. I'm cold. Its gleaming white, too bright and I wince. I try my fingers and toes, all working. Have I fallen off a horse? It won’t be the first-time I’ve come around to the sound of fast retreating hoof beats with the bridle in my hand and mud on my jodhpurs. But, not this time.
I move my head and instantly pay with a clap of steering pain rushing through inside. An injury? No, can't feel anything, my hand lands back down quickly and heavily with a smack, I don't seem to be able to channel any energy where I want it. I can tell my boots aren’t on, not