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I turn away from him, stare out of the double-glazed window. A white van rumbles by.
‘When did that stop?’ he asks. ‘When did we stop talking?’
‘You remember, don’t you? When did your memory come back?’
‘Oh, Hannah. It was never gone in the first place.’ He searches my face, and I wonder what he’s looking for. What conclusions he’s reaching in his twisted mind.
‘Why did you lie?’
‘I had no choice. I think you know that, don’t you?’
‘I don’t know what?—’
‘Stop!’ His voice shatters around us, piercing my ears.
He grabs my wrists. ‘Why were you following me?’ His voice is lower, but his grip burns my skin. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Let go of me.’
‘Answer my question! You think I’m weak. Because of my accident? You’re wrong.’ He tightens his grip.
I tip my head forward and thrust myself into him, smashing into his jaw. He yells and reels backwards, clutching his already damaged head.
I’m at the door by the time he’s scrambled up, and I rush outside, racing to the car.
With surprising speed, Max chases after me, shouting my name, banging his fists on the car window.
With no time to put on my seatbelt, I slam my foot on the accelerator and speed off, watching him become smaller and smaller in the rear-view mirror.
EIGHTEEN
For hours I drive aimlessly, my only goal being to keep away from the house. Away from Max. Every few seconds I glance in the mirror, relieved to find that no one appears to be following me.
Without giving it any thought, I find myself heading towards Chiswick. Sarah has messaged to confirm Max’s story about him telling her to leave. And now she’s meeting Dean. She’s got her own stuff to deal with. I don’t expect Taylor to be home, but at least it feels like I’m doing something.
I get to his apartment block and head upstairs to his flat, my legs feeling heavy and fragile at the same time. Just as I reach the top, my phone rings.
Taylor.
‘Where are you?’ I say, without any greeting.
‘Sorry, I’ve only just got your messages. My mum got rushed to hospital.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. Is she okay?’
‘She will be. It was a minor stroke. My brother’s with her now so I came home.’
‘I’m outside your flat,’ I say, my cheeks burning. What will he think of me being here?
He doesn’t say anything, but his flat door opens, and Taylor peers out. He’s wearing a black roll-neck jumper and dark jeans. Blue trainers I’ve not seen him in before. ‘I thought you were joking,’ he says, smiling. ‘Sorry, you must have been worried about me. I should have messaged you.’
I brush past him, strangely confident with this man I still barely know. ‘Of course I was worried. One minute that silver Golf is parked outside, and the next you’re missing. What was I supposed to think?’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I got the call right after I got off the phone to you and everything went out of my mind. All I could think about was my mum. I thought she was about to die. And by the time I got outside, the Golf was gone.’
‘I’m glad your mum’s okay.’ The truth is, Taylor doesn’t owe me anything. We’re not friends. Our worlds have just collided and we’re bound together by a woman’s death.
Taylor leads me through to the kitchen. ‘Something’s happened, hasn’t it? What is it?’
