Page 25 of The Last Train Home
‘It’s not supposed to be romantic,’ I say despairingly. ‘It’s to make a new friend. I’ve got Gary’s number in my phone and I’m not datinghim.’
Tom says nothing.
‘This is where you tell me if Sean’s an axe murderer or not, by the way,’ I probe.
‘Not as far as I’m aware,’ Tom replies, but his voice is quiet, soft.
I have no intention of dating Sean, but now I’m worried I’ve upset Tom. I don’t want to keep reiterating the point, but he’s dwelling on it for some reason. I didn’t say I’d given Sean my number to make him jealous or to stop our flirty chat, but I wonder, sadly, if I’ve just done both. I wish I’d said nothing now.
Tom opens the freezer and pulls out the tub of ice cream and places it on the side. He doesn’t pull out any bowls; instead I join him and he hands me a spoon. We hover over his kitchen counter, lifting each spoon of ice cream directly out of the tub and into our mouths.
‘I’m a bit worried about you,’ he confides tenderly.
I turn to look at him and his face is so much closer than I expected it to be, even though our shoulders are touching while we stand and eat. Being close to Tom is nice and I can smell his shampoo, the same one I borrowed the last time I was here. I really like it. I might get some, even if it is for men.
‘You’re worried about me because I might go out for a drink with Sean?’
‘Not because of Sean. I’m worried about you because of … you know. That day.’ His expression is urgent.
‘Don’t be,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll be OK. It’ll just take time.’
Chapter 14
Tom
I look at her. She’s so close I can see every single line and colour in her eyes. I’ve never noticed what an unusual tone they are: not blue and not green, something in between. ‘Well, I’m here for you, whenever you need to talk to someone. You know that, don’t you?’ I say. Shit, this conversation’s got serious again.
She nods.
‘Do you think we should join a support group?’ she asks.
I think about that for a while. ‘I think wearea support group,’ I say eventually. And although that doesn’t really make sense, Abbie seems to know what I mean.
‘We can go to one together if you want,’ I offer, although I really don’t want to.
‘Maybe,’ she replies.
I can see tears forming in her eyes and I reach up and brush them away as they fall.
‘Sorry,’ we both say together.
‘Why are you apologising?’ I ask.
‘For being silly. We were having a nice time and I’ve ruined it.’
‘You’re not being silly,’ I tell her, turning to face her properly now. ‘And I always have a nice time with you. You’re so easy to be with.’
She smiles at that. ‘The same,’ she says.
‘I prefer being with you to being by myself,’ I comment. But that’s not what I mean. That didn’t sound as nice out loud as it had in my head. I don’t want to be by myself, I realise. I want to be near Abbie, with her. All the time. Oh, shit! Where did that thought come from? ‘You know what I mean. I really like being with you,’ I say. The cheap wine is making me incoherent.
I touch her face again, although there are no tears falling now. The room has gone quiet. We’ve gone quiet. And then, because Abbie is funny and pretty and sexy, and because we’ve somehow found ourselves inextricably intertwined in each other’s lives since that awful day – because of that day – because I can’t stop myself and because I don’t want to stop myself, I do the most moronic thing I can think of.
I kiss her.
Chapter 15
Abbie
