Page 99 of The Spark

‘I’m going back next week. I don’t want to miss too much. They’ve not got an awful lot of sympathy for me, if I’m honest.’

‘Are you . . . managing okay?’

He looks directly at me now, eyes damp and fierce. ‘No, Neve. I’m not managing okay at all.’

I reach out and take his hand, squeezing it so hard I risk adding to his list of injuries. ‘Me neither.’

‘This whole thing is mad. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you.’

I fight tears, but I don’t know what to say. I can’t say, Me neither, because we both know it wouldn’t be true. But it is true that I hate doing life without him. That I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same, if we’re not together.

A couple of moments pass. The flat is excruciatingly quiet. Ash usually has music playing, or the windows flung open to let in the sounds of the city. Tonight, the hush feels almost unbearable.

‘Do you want to know what I was doing, when I got hit by that car?’

I take another sip of brandy. ‘Gabi said you were drunk.’

‘Off my face, thinking about you. About us.’ He frowns. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not blaming you, not at all. None of this is your fault, obviously. I just... Nothing seems to make sense any more, without you.’

I want to tell him it’s all going to be okay. But how can I, when I’m not sure it will be?

‘It was bad. I was the drunkest I’ve been in... maybe ever. Even back in the day.’

‘Gabi told me all about your wild-child ways.’

‘I bet she did. Weird that my sister feels nostalgic for a version of me that definitely wouldn’t have made it to thirty.’

I think about what Gabi said to me at the hospital. I’d rather have a different version of him than no brother at all.

I finish my brandy, shake my head. ‘I just... I still don’t get it, Ash.’

‘Get what?’

‘You. Jamie. Your accident. The person you became. Any of it.’

He mirrors me, swigging back the last of his drink before reaching over to top us both up. ‘Well, whatever happened, Neve, I still don’t believe I have the ghost of your ex-boyfriend living inside me. Because ghosts don’t exist. They just don’t.’

I’ll get nowhere with convincing him. Or even discussing it. I can see that now. There is nothing left for me to do but show him, somehow, how much I still love him.

I set down my glass. Our gazes fuse. I lean in, relieved when he doesn’t turn away. We kiss hesitantly for a few seconds. His lips are glazed with brandy. And then he teases my mouth apart with his tongue, and I respond. I have missed this so much, these moments of intense, volcanic wanting. He moves a hand to my chin, grasping it gently, tipping my face up to his, bettering the angle for both of us, the kiss growing deeper, hungrier. Our breathing becomes ragged. I run a hand over his leg, begin to lift his T-shirt.

And then, without warning, he pulls back. ‘Ouch.’

‘Oh, God. Sorry. Are you okay? Where does it hurt?’

The wince becomes a smile. He shakes his head, then looks away, takes a few deep breaths. ‘Ah, Neve. Come on. Don’t ask me that.’

‘Well,’ I whisper, smiling back at him, ‘tell me. Where does it hurt?’ I lean towards him again, but this time he dodges the kiss, shuffling fully away.

I stay where I am. I don’t need to ask what’s wrong: it’s written all over his face.

‘Neve, I... I love you so much, and this feels so... But this thing about Jamie... I can’t live with that. I need to be with someone who loves me for who I am. You know that, right?’

I nod, because of course I do.

‘But you know what’s crazy?’ he says, eyes blazing suddenly. ‘It’s us who’re supposed to be together, Neve, not you and him – and it kills me that you’ll never, ever see it.’

My mind flails madly for lifebelts. ‘Okay, what if – just humour me for a minute – what if I could find someone who agrees with me? Who could back up what I believe? A scientist. Or a doctor. Someone who can categorially prove I’m not mad. Even your sister—’

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