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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Olivia Isaac-Henry 2019
Cover design © Alison Groom 2019
Cover illustrations © Shutterstock
Olivia Isaac-Henry asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © February 2019; ISBN: 9780008317751
Version: 2018-12-12
Tess: June 2018
Walking home, it’s nearly light. The constant drum of water on my skull melts into the bass beats still looping through my head and the slap of my feet on the pavement. The weather’s broken, thunderstorms have driven people from the streets and I have London to myself. Almost. I can hear Edie behind me, the faint splash of her footsteps.
I come in and drink a glass of water. Until it touches my lips, I don’t realise how thirsty I am. I down two more. Only when I finish do I notice the trail of mud and rain through the flat. I can’t be bothered to mop it up.
In the bathroom, I rough-dry my hair and put it into a topknot, then tiptoe to the bedroom, pull on an old T-shirt and creep in next to Max. It’s my turn to take the lounge, but I can’t face a night alone on the lumpy sofa. Asleep, Max forgets we’re no longer together. He rolls over to put an arm across me and I curl up against his chest, absorbing the warmth of his body. Feeling his bulk and soft breath against my skin lets me pretend nothing has changed, until I catch the faint whiff of perfume, Chanel, not mine. Has he found someone else already? I don’t care. I can’t be alone tonight.
I close my eyes, but sleep is far away. At some level I’m aware my body is tired and my limbs ache. But my mind is running fast. Images of bars, dancers, grubby hands grabbing at me in grubby cubicles … Then Edie. Always Edie.
Twenty years have passed quickly, but the individual days are long and the nights even longer. Wherever I’ve been, whomever I’m with, whatever I’ve taken, it’s never enough, I always see her.
*
‘Tess.’
Edie’s voice. I sit up. My mobile’s ringing. It feels like seconds since I shut my eyes. Max’s imprint in the sheets is cold. He must have gone to the gym hours ago. Was he angry with me for sneaking in next to him when I should be on the sofa, or did he wake, his arms around me, and wish for a moment that we were still together? I look to the bedside table in hope. There’s no mug. He used to make me a cup of tea before leaving in the morning.
The mobile’s still ringing. I pick up.
‘Tess, it’s Cassie. You’re late.’
‘Shit.’
I look at the clock, it’s nearly ten.
‘Nadine’s asking for you. You better get in quick; there’s a meeting at half eleven.’
‘I’m on my way.’
I roll off the bed. Pain runs up my ribs and back and I land on my knees. I slip my fingers under my T-shirt. Some of the material is stuck to me. I peel it back. The sharp sting makes me shudder. A thin scratch runs from the bottom of my shoulder blade to under my left breast and my front ribs are bruised, not too bad but a little raised. I think back but can’t remember hurting myself.
The blood leaves a faint iron smell. And I smell. Not of me, but of other people’s clammy bodies.
The shower is as hot as I can take it. Water and steam scald my skin, the pain doesn’t matter. I have to cleanse myself of last night.