Page 6 of Pyg

“You did, or you just think you did?”

“Well, I left. I got into my car, and I drove away. I’ve never done that before. And I don’t feel the desire to go running back, so I’m pretty sure it’s over.”

“Had you been together long?”

“Long enough. I didn’t realise I wanted it to be over… but it really wasn’t going anywhere, so what’s the point?”

Ash’s face set into a frown. “Sounds like you’ve made a tough choice, but a good one?”

Alice nodded. “I think so. It must be, because I don’t even feel sad about it at the moment… I feel relieved, actually.”

“There you go then. You’ve done the right thing if you feel that way.” Ash flashed her crooked smile again, and it elicited a flutter in Alice’s chest.

Seriously, Alice? The first person who happens to be nice to you?She turned and looked out of the window, chewing the inside of her lip. “I’m forty-two, for fuck’s sake. It’s about time I got my shit together.”

“Well, your timing’s good; spring’s the season of fresh starts.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Alice gave the doctor a small smile.

“Change nothing, and nothing changes. Someone wiser than me said that, but it’s a good way to be. You know, take control and go after the things you want.”

“Is that what you do?” Alice asked and bit the inside of her lip again as a punishment for flirting.

Ash didn’t answer the question, but a smile flickered in her eyes, and she turned up the volume on the car stereo. “I love this,” she said and drummed her thumbs on the steering wheel in time to the beat of an Annie Lennox song.

Alice pointed at the windscreen. “You need to go left after the lights.”

By the end of the track, they’d pulled up on the road outside an imposing cream building, its rendered facade characterised by vast windows and a grand entrance.

Ash whistled. “Is this really where you live? It’s dead posh.”

“It looks fancy from the outside, but I only have a little one-bed flat in there. I don’t even get to use the front door. My place is around the back and up the stairs.”

“That’s Leamington for you, all fancy from the outside.” Ash turned to face her with eyes watering as she stifled a yawn in her palm.

Alice gathered up her bag and jangled her keys in her coat pocket. “Thanks again for the lift… and the chat. It was good to talk about it. I’d invite you in for a coffee, but I don’t have any milk…”

Ash raised a polite hand to decline before Alice had finished making an excuse.

“Or coffee.”

Ash exhaled a laugh. “Honestly, it was no trouble at all. I hope you get everything sorted with your car… and your life.” Her kind smile told Alice she meant the ‘sort your life out’ thing in a nice way. And there was that little flutter in her chest again.

Stop it, Alice. Get a grip.

* * *

Alice leanedon the front door until it closed behind her. She dropped her keys on the console table and gasped as she met her reflection in the mirror. Dark smudges circled her eyes, and her bedraggled blonde curls told the tale of a sleepless night. She turned her face to examine a gory smear of blood across her cheek; the man’s blood, not hers. Even so, she looked like she’d taken part in some sort of ritualistic ceremony, where she’d sacrificed a virgin or three.

It occurred to her she’d been chatting away to that nice doctor whilst looking completely deranged. Despite her internal chaos, Alice was normally well put together at least. She hiccupped a maniacal laugh, which added to her overall unhinged aesthetic.

What the hell must the doctor have thought of her? And how horrified Fran would be if she could see her now. For a split second, Alice considered whipping out her phone to send Fran a selfie, but she didn’t care about fucking Fran any more, so she set her phone face-down next to her keys.

Alice kicked off her heels and wiggled her liberated toes on the Victorian-tiled floor, relishing the coolness on her burning soles. She fixed her gaze on the patent heels; her beautiful, disgustingly expensive Louboutins.Ruined.Why had she wasted so much money on them? She had loved them — how they made her feel, how much they’d excited Fran. But now she had to admit they’d hurt her, too; they’d really fucking hurt her. A sob threatened to escape her throat, but she swallowed it down and looked her reflection in the panda-eyes.

“No. No more.” Alice snatched up the shoes and fumbled with the front door. When the lock sprung free, she flung it open and launched the heels outside. She pinched her lips together as the Louboutins clattered down the steps and, after one last sorry glance in their direction, she slammed the door shut.

“Right. That’s that then.” Alice picked up her phone, swiped past the red-dot deluge of missed calls and texts from Fran, and took a photo of her swollen feet as a reminder not to buy any more ridiculous fucking heels.

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