I realise Fran’s been talking to me but I must have zoned out of the conversation for a minute. ‘So sorry, I’m just not myself at the moment. You must think I’m really rude.’
‘Not at all. I honestly don’t know how you’re coping with everything.’
‘Like you said, I have lovely friends. They’re the ones keeping me going,’ I reply, realising it’s true. Without my friends, I don’t know what I’d be doing. Probably still hiding out in my bedroom.
After some lighter chit-chat, we finish up our lunch and head back to the car park. I’m so exhausted I think I might go back to bed when I get home. It feels wrong while the sun is shining and it’s not even 1 p.m. yet, but it’s been an emotionally draining morning.
I hug Fran goodbye.
‘You know,’ she says, ‘if you ever need to switch off from everything, you should come by the shelter and take one of the dogs out. They’re great therapy and they always love the chance for anextra walk. They’re my lifeline whenever I feel stressed. Text me any time, okay?’
‘I might just take you up on that,’ I reply.
On the short drive back home, I have the windows down letting in fresh air to keep me alert. I think back to what Laurence said earlier about comparingmySeth’s face with the imposter-Seth’s face and trying to pinpoint the differences. I don’t know why I didn’t think of doing that before. Maybe if I can differentiate their features, then I can get people to see that they’re two different men.
The imposter-Seth’s face pops into my mind straightaway. I can catalogue his features quite easily. Now, I try to do the same with my Seth. He’s ... I frown and try to conjure up a mental image of my fiancé’s face.
It’s the strangest, most unsettling sensation ... I can’t seem to do it.
I know Seth is my fiancé and I know we have a life together, but when I think about him,reallythink about him, I can’t bring his face to my mind.
This is stupid. How am I not able to do this?
Okay, I’ll picture Seth’s parents’ faces instead ...
But then I stop myself. I realise I don’t want to. I don’t want to think about what they look like, and I also don’t want to think about what my Seth looks like either.
Because the terrifying thing is that I’m pretty certainI can’t remember.
Chapter Eighteen
THEN
I flop down on to Laurence’s sofa, pulling my legs up under me.
‘How was your wedding venue tour?’ he asks, bringing out two wine glasses topped up to the brim with Sauvignon Blanc.
‘Don’t even ask,’ I grumble.
‘Oh. Sounds ominous. So now you have to tell me,’ Laurence replies, sitting next to me, his long legs stretched out on the coffee table.
‘Ugh.’ I take an indecent swig of my wine, trying not to think about today’s tour with Sienna. Seth went home soon after to avoid the Sunday evening traffic, so the two of us didn’t get much of a chance to talk. ‘I’ll tell you later,’ I say, not wanting to rehash it all right now. ‘Let’s stick the film on first. I need to decompress. What are we watching? It better be a good one.’ We always take turns choosing, and tonight is Laurence’s turn.
‘Don’t you worry about that.’ He flicks on the movie channel where the image of a blood-soaked zombie stares back at me from the screen.
‘Good choice, Kennedy.’ I nod my approval.
Hardly any of my friends like horror films, whereas I absolutely love them (despite the fact they terrify me). But I can’t watch them on my own. Laurence is the only other person I know who loves them as much as I do, so whenever Francesca is out with her friends, he and Ido a movie night. Francesca is grateful to me for watching them with Laurence as she can’t even bear to be in the flat when they’re on in case she accidentally sees something awful. I’m not sure how our movie nights will work once I’m married to Seth, but we’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Hopefully Laurence will win Seth over and Seth will realise that Laurence is just a friend.
‘Pringles,’ Laurence says, jumping up and heading over to the kitchen. He opens one of the units and pulls out two tubes – original for him, sour cream and onion for me. Once he’s settled back on to the couch, we start the movie. Within seconds, I’m completely engrossed, today’s worries evaporating into a post-apocalyptic zombie world. Laurence laughs mercilessly at me when I scream at the jump scares, and I throw an assortment of cushions at his head, then grab them back to hide behind.
Around halfway through the film, the door buzzer sounds, and Laurence pauses the TV while he goes to collect our pizzas from the delivery person. I top up our glasses and close my eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling tired and emotional.
We start tucking into our Veggie Feasts and potato wedges, eating them straight out of the boxes to save on washing up.
‘Shall I press play?’ I ask.
‘Not yet. I want to hear about today. Didn’t you like the hotel? I thought you had your heart set on it.’
