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way. I didn't know what they made of it (either the ritual of the takeaway or the nutrition-free food itself) but four aliens sat at a table nearby eating quietly. They had travelled billions of miles and, surely, they had witnessed countless incredible sights and experiences along the way. What they thought of sitting in a burger bar in Thatcham on a wet Sunday afternoon I could not even begin to imagine.

Chapter 20

I dropped Penny and Clare off at their place and was back home by half-past six. Rob was at the cottage with that damn alien again. He and Rob had become quite close since they'd met back in August but I just couldn't warm to him. It was more than the fact that he was an alien - there was something about him that I really didn't like. I had spoken to him on several occasions - once or twice at length - and we had discussed many different topics. We'd talked about families, technology, homes, hobbies, sport and even war. Regardless of all that I'd learned about him I still felt the same distrust and dislike today as I'd felt the first time I'd set eyes on the bastard.

'Where you been?' Rob grunted as I closed the front door and took off my jacket.

'Out with Clare, why?' 'Siobhan's been on the phone for you.'

'Oh, right. Does she want me to call her back or is she...'

'I think you should call her,' Rob said, cutting across me.

'Did she say whether she's...'

I stopped talking when the alien appeared in the hallway from the living room.

'Evening, Tom,' he said in his low, monotonous voice. He sounded like Mr Franks, the maths teacher who had made my life hell when I was thirteen. Maybe that was why I didn't like him?

'Evening,' I replied, my voice as curt and abrasive as I could make it sound with a single word.

'Had a good day?' he asked as he walked towards me.

'Fine,' I snapped as I neatly side-stepped him and went into the kitchen. What I'd really wanted to say was 'it's none of your fucking business,' but I didn't.

I glanced over my shoulder and, to my relief, saw that Rob and his friend were heading back towards the living room. I filled up the kettle and, as I waited for it to boil, I picked up the phone to speak to Siobhan.

It rang out five or six times before she answered.

'Hello?' a quiet, distant voice said.

'Hi, it's me. How you doing?' I said, suddenly feeling more alive and awake than I had done all day.

'Do you give a damn how I'm doing?'

For a second I could think of nothing to say.

'What?' I eventually mumbled.

'I said do you give a fucking damn how I'm doing?'

'Of course I do. Look, what's the...'

'I don't think you do. Christ, it's been so long since you bothered to speak to me that I was starting to think you'd forgotten I existed. Thought you'd found someone better to spend you time with...'

There were such unexpected levels of anger, bitterness and unwarranted accusation in my girlfriend's voice that I found myself having real difficulty trying to respond.

'What are you talking about?' I stammered. 'Of course I haven't forgotten about you. We went out on Wednesday, didn't we? I called you yesterday...'

'I wasn't there.'

'That wasn't my fault.'

I frantically checked and rechecked over the events of the last few days in my mind to make sure I hadn't missed anything important. Her birthday was in April. It wasn't Christmas. It wasn't Valentine's Day. I was at a loss. But my memory had served me well. I had taken her to the pub on Wednesday night. We'd had a bar meal and then stayed on for a few drinks.

'You should have called me again. You should have kept trying.'

'You could have called me,' I protested.

'I shouldn't have to.'

Again I struggled to comprehend the garbage that was coming from Siobhan's mouth. She was normally so calm and level-headed. We'd been apart for longer recently, so why was she making such a fuss about the last few days in particular? I thought our relationship was stronger and more solid than that.

'Look,' I began, keen to hear some kind of explanation from her, 'I don't know what the matter is. Am I supposed to have done something? I was going to try and call you this afternoon but...'

'But what?' she demanded, interrupting. 'Couldn't you be bothered? Had you got something better to do? Something more