Page 25 of Pyg

“Er, hey Mags. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday. I need a little help. My car… it’s doing that thing again where it doesn’t work. I promise I’ll get it sorted after this. I’m going to sort out everything in my… what do you call it?…chaotic little life.”

Alice swallowed the lump in her throat, formed at the thought of Maggie, once again, being bloody right about everything, and she hurried to finish the message before it cut off. “Anyway, please call me on the landline in a bit. I er… I need to turn my mobile off. Indefinitely. I’ll explain later. Just call me, Mags. Love you.”

Oh God.That was worse than she’d imagined. Voicemails were not Alice’s friend.

“Are you okay, Miss?” asked the driver in a heavily accented voice.

Alice met his gaze in the rear-view mirror, his bushy black eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“Yeah, fine. Fine, thank you.” She forced a smile. “Actually, I could do with a little fresh air. Would you mind if I?—”

“No problem.” Before Alice could open the window, the driver had done it for her. “You can close it if it’s too much.”

Alice shut her eyes to the gush of cool air that rushed in. The afternoon sun bathed the budding landscape in a golden glow. She raised her chin and let the breeze push back her curls as she breathed in the spring air.

The insistent buzz of the phone in her hand snatched her moment’s peace. She glanced at the screen, hoping for Mags, but no —

Fuck off, Fran.Alice fumbled to reject the call but answered it by mistake.

“Alice, please…” came a tiny impatient voice from the speaker.

In a brief battle lost to impulse, Alice threw the phone from the moving car.

“Oh, shit!” she gasped, and the driver braked to a halt.

“Did you drop something outside, Miss?”

Craning to look from the window, Alice saw her phone nestled in a hedgerow. It’d be easy enough to retrieve.But actually… “No, it’s fine. It wasn’t anything important. You can drive on.”

* * *

Alice boltedthe front door behind her, not missing the irony of reinforced containment within the minuscule square footage of her flat, when she knew she was about to unleash everything she’d been trying so hard to hold in. She dropped her keys on the hallway table, and as she walked from the front door to her bedroom, she shed her clothes, dropping a trail of them in her stride.

Stripped to her bare skin, Alice wrapped herself in the duvet of her unmade bed and flopped face-first onto the mattress. Cocooned in the sanctuary of her duvet, she buried her head in the many pillows and wept.Pity-party for one.No need to hold back; she let it all out, guttural ugly crying wrenching from her core.

Something had shifted within the last twenty-four hours. A conviction concerning Francesca Dalton had cemented inside Alice. This time felt different, not least because Alice’s phone was in a hedge, and she couldn’t call Fran even if she wanted to. Over the two years they’d been doing this dance, Alice had tried in vain to be firm, but Fran would always utter the right combination of words and recast the spell.

No more. No fucking more.

6

LIFE TRANSPLANT

Alight but persistent tapping roused Alice from the snot-bubbling stupor she’d stirred herself into. She raised her head from her plush den and listened harder.Was that the door?

Barefoot and bundled in her thick duvet, Alice waddled down the hallway, lit only by the yellow streetlight glowing through the transom window. She stepped over the clothes she’d discarded earlier and stood by the door.

Tap, tap, tap.Quiet, but there was most definitely someone there.

“Who is it?” Alice called out.

A soft voice came from outside. “It’s me — Ash — Doctor Khurana.”

“Oh.”Shit.

“I’m really sorry to disturb you, Alice… and I’ll leave if you want me to. But I was worried about you after earlier. You seemed distressed.”

Alice could picture the discerning face of the doctor, her eyebrows pinched together above those brown eyes, deep pools of concern.

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