Page 58 of The Allotment on Willow Tree Lane

Damon held her for a long time as she sobbed, his own grief a hard ball in his chest, until she finally drew away, wiped her cheeks with her fingers, and dropped back onto the sofa. Picking up her wine, she croaked, ‘Thanks for letting me stay.’

‘Anytime. You know that.’

Sadie held up her glass. ‘If you want some, the bottle is in the kitchen.’

Damon poured himself a decent measure, took a gulp, and then plonked down into one of the armchairs.

Sadie asked, ‘Is Ceri all right? She looked upset. Sorry, I didn’t mean to land you in it.’

Damon shrugged. ‘I know you didn’t.’

‘Is it serious between you?’

‘Yeah, I think it might be.’

She drank more of her wine. ‘I’m glad. You need someone special in your life.’

‘You’re special.’ He was trying to lighten the mood.

‘I know, but I’m not in love with you. And I’m fairly sure you’re not in love with me.’

Damon spilled his wine. ‘Love?’ he spluttered.

‘I saw the way you were looking at her, which was why I assumed she knew.’

‘I didn’t tell her because it was none of her business at first, then when it should have become her business, I didn’t tell her because I wanted her to like mefor me. I was just about to come clean, when you rocked up and stole my thunder.’

‘Sorry.’ Her expression was contrite.

‘No harm done.’ At least, he didn’tthinkthere was…

Sadie said, ‘Luke will be back in the UK next week. He’s grumbling that Frank’s been on at him to finish those new tracks. Has Frank been nagging you too?’

‘He’s mentioned it once or twice.’ Frank had messaged him several times, and each time Damon had brushed him off.

He dropped his gaze, the thought of returning to the studio filling him with dread.

God, not again…He could sense darkness hovering at the mere thought of it, and his heart began to thud uncomfortably. It felt as though it was banging against his ribcage and would burst out of his chest at any moment.

Sadie drained her glass. ‘Want a refill?’

Numbly, he shook his head, and was only dimly aware of her getting off the sofa and walking out of the room.

No, no, no, he prayed, his jaw tensing as he gritted his teeth.

But just as the sound of tortured metal filled his ears, an image of Ceri floated into his mind and he grabbed it, holding onto it the way a drowning man would clutch a lifebuoy. Concentrating hard on her face, he thought about the depths in her eyes, the way she smiled, the little line between her eyebrows when she frowned, and gradually the panic attack receded.

Taking a deep breath, he realised that what had felt like minutes had only been a matter of seconds. He could hear Sadie in the kitchen, the clink of the bottle against the glass as she poured more wine, and elation slammed into him.

He’d beaten it!

He had driven the panic attack away by focusing so deeply on Ceri that it hadn’t been able to overwhelm him.

The relief he felt was incredible and he had Ceri to thank.

Maybe he was over the worst, and perhaps hewouldbe able to go back to performing live after all? But just as quickly, common sense kicked in and he told himself to slow down. He might have managed to beat it once, but that didn’t mean he would beat it again. He’d give it a couple of weeks. Besides, he wasn’t ready to leave Foxmore quite yet.

It was then that the realisation struck him: it wasn’t the thought of suffering further panic attacks that was responsible for his reluctance to get back to work – it was the thought of leavingCeri.

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