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And the more it storms outside, the more alone I feel.
The more alone Iam.
Cate and Ralph seem to be growing into something lovely.
Mum and Dad are making their way back to each other.
Kieran has texted, but he’s busier than ever, with his full, grown-up life, thousands of miles away. (I should text him more. I’m not sure why I don’t sometimes.)
I keep thinking of Leona too, bemused by my weird hare-brained theories interrupting her busy day. Even Chloe’s talking about moving on.
And Alexis – well, she’s clearly off living her life without me and isn’t coming. Of course she isn’t coming. And I really thought she might. Alexis is so much more likely to enter stage left with a bang, a gesture, versus a small ‘sorry’ text message. But still, she never came. She isn’t here.
Nobody is here.
And I don’t even realise I’m crying or even panicking as much as I am until I have to speak down the phone. I barely even register the fact I’m calling him, until he picks up.
‘Hey, you,’ Jack says, happily, down the line.
‘Hi.’ I slap on a fake smile, in the dark. ‘I just .?.?. I just want someone to talk to. Are you – busy?’
‘I’m at a bowling alley.’ He laughs through the phone; a safe, lovely sound that grounds me instantly. ‘And, er, it sounds like you might be too? Chaz, dude, what the fuck? Sorry, we’re getting totally thrashed.’
‘I’m at the treehouse.’
‘Oh, shityeah, I remember you saying. That’s tonight? How’s it going?’
Tears have started almost instantly, my lips quivering, my face, burning hot.
‘Millie? Millie, are you OK?’
‘Um – no,’ I squeak. ‘I don’t think I am. The power’s out. There’s a .?.?. a storm.’
‘Oh, shit.’
‘And I’m alone.’
‘I thought you said you were going with Cate? With .?.?. with Alexis?’
‘Neither of them came. Cate’s in hospital. Her – her gall bladder. And Alexis never showed, so .?.?.’ I gaze around the wooden shack, bowing, struggling trees shadowed on the walls. Romantic in the day-time, with its beams and slatted floors, its log burners and baskets of blankets like piled-up swiss rolls, but now, in this storm, it feels more like a glorified, oversized shed that might very well get whipped up like a cow in a tornado, me and my lasagne, trapped inside. ‘It’s just me. And there’re no lights, because the power’s out, and it’s sort of in the middle of nowhere so .?.?. I just wanted to hear someone’s voice, I suppose. Your voice.’
‘Ah, Millie. I’m sorry. Hold on just a sec.’ Suddenly, the line is quiet. He’s moved, somewhere more remote. I can hear traffic, the solid bleeping of a pelican crossing. The total opposite to me, here in the wilderness, in a literal tree-top. ‘So, you’re alone?’
I nod to nobody, to the empty, cold, dark room. The thunder roars outside. The candles flicker, painting halos of butterscotch on the walls. ‘Yeah,’ I say in a tiny voice, and I close my eyes, tears falling. God, it reminds me of university. Being alone in a room, somewhere I didn’t want to be, everyone else, out having fun. It reminds me of when Owen and I broke up, and I sat, shivering in a horrible house-share’s box-room that smelled like cat poo and mildew, because I couldn’t face going home. Until I found Ralph and Four, The Logans. Oh, I wish I was back at Four, The Logans.
‘Do you want me to come?’ he asks.
‘What?’
‘I’ll drive out.’
And relief warms me through, like soup. But how can I ask him to? He’s at a bowling alley with his friends. I feel guilty pulling him away. Especially out into the greatWizard of Oz-style storm. He’ll be leaving the country soon. This might be the last chance he has to see his friends.
‘No, Jack, you’re busy, you’re—’
‘No, no, I’m not. I mean – that’s if youwantcompany. No pressure. I’m not going to gate-crash your holiday.’ He chuckles.
‘No, no, youcould nevergate-crash. I’d really love that, if you came.’
