‘No, it’s fine. He’s... well, Dylan leftone day. Just walked out of the flat we shared.’ I attempt a smile. ‘He...forgot to leave a forwarding address.’
‘God, I’m sorry.’ Liam looks genuinely gutted for me. ‘I’mreally sorry. How long...?’
‘He left a year and five months ago. The April before last.He was... having problems.’
‘Problems?’ He shakes his head. ‘Sorry. Tell me to shut upif you like.’
‘No, no. It’s fine. I tend not to talk about it, but I’mstarting to think maybe I should.’
He nods. ‘Well, I’m listening. I don’t have to be anywhere.’
I draw in some air and breathe it out again very slowly. Whyam I feeling like I want to open up to Liam Westerbrook when I don’t even know him?
I give my head a little shake. ‘Actually, you know what? I’mfine. I’m feeling vulnerable because of all the memories that have been stirredup, revisiting this place. That’s all.’
‘Sure?’
‘Yes. Thanks, though. No, I just miss Dylan so much. Youknow?’
‘You’re bound to – especially if you were close.’
‘We were.’ I swallow hard. ‘I hate him for just vanishinglike that, though.’
‘He must have had his reasons, I guess. And he’s never beenin touch?’
I shake my head, thinking bitterly of someone else who leftand never came back.
And then I remember the letters, lying in pieces in thewastepaper bin back at the B&B. And suddenly I’m panicking. Why did I dothat? Why did I tear them up? It was a spur of the moment thing. I was inshock.
My heart is drumming fast.
What if my room’s been cleaned and the letters have alreadybeen thrown out along with the teabags and the tiny milk cartons?
I’m on my feet, an apology already on my lips. ‘Sorry, I’vejust realised there’s something I need to do. It was... niceto see you, though.’
‘Of course.’ Liam rises as well and we get caught togetherin the small space, his hands around my waist, steadying me. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. Thank you.’ I hurry out of the hide. Then I turn.‘Good luck with your first session as a radio presenter.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’
‘When is it? I’d like to listen.’
He grins. ‘I’m not sure I want you to listen, just in caseI’m rubbish.’
‘You won’t be. I know you won’t be. So tell me!’
‘It’s a week on Monday.’
‘Okay. I’ll be tuned in. Bye!’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Lottie? Wait. Do you need a lift to wherever you’regoing?’
I’m already hurrying along, retracing my steps back to SycamoreHouse, but hearing Liam’s voice behind me, I stop dead in my tracks.
‘A lift?’ I turn uncertainly, then I glance ahead at thepath winding into the distance. It’s going to take me half an hour to walk backto the house to collect the car. A lift would get me to the B&B so muchfaster...
