PROLOGUE

She stared at the monster sprawled on her tiled floor, gripping the trophy so tight that it might snap. His eyelids were drawn down, hiding the hollow black in his sunken eyes. His lips were set in a thin line. Like two worms resting side-by-side. Thick red liquid snaked around the contours of his sallow face. Water dripped from his raincoat onto the kitchen tiles.  Drip, drip, drip.

She held her breath as she waited. Waited for him to move again. To cough or to splutter. Her hand was slick with sweat, she could feel the trophy slipping from her grasp. She watched, heart pounding in her ears. Was that the gentle rise and dip of his chest? She took a slow step forward, raising the trophy again. She leaned down toward him, blinking through the haze of intoxication. He wasn’t moving. And everything was sliding further away. She was floating out of her body, hovering above herself. She could see her knuckles turning white.

‘What have you done, Alexis?!’ Liz’s shrill voice sliced into her. The bass from the speaker pulsed through her body, rattling her bones.

‘What have you done, Alexis?!’

‘Can someone turn that music off?!’ somebody yelled, she wasn’t sure who. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Somebody at her side moved away. The air grew colder. The music stopped. Silence enveloped them, except for the blood rushing in her ears.

‘What have you done, Alexis?!’

‘He was, he was attacking us,’ she muttered, watching, entranced, as the colour drained from the man’s face.

She heard Liz’s footsteps as she paced the room. Then her voice, lower, frightened: ‘Alexis, what have you done?’ Alexis looked up, at Liz and her trembling hands as they moved from her hair to her face to her throat.

‘Oliver, what the fuck are you doing?’ Jane was hissing from the doorway, phone waving in her hand like it was part of her arm.

‘Seeing if he’s got a pulse,’ Oliver was crouched now, arm extended. He looked so small compared to the body stretched out on the black and white tiles. Alexis watched as the room spun in front of her, light refracting and diffracting so that she could see dozens of Oliver’s, reaching out, touching the monster in front of him.

‘But what if he’s…’ Jane cleared her throat, ‘What if he’s…’, she covered her mouth with her hands, the unspoken words floating in the dense air between them.

Oliver shook his head determinedly and steadied two fingers on the man’s exposed neck. Alexis waited. Oliver’s gaunt face swum in and out of focus. Seconds stretched out into an infinite vacuum. Oliver shook his head. ‘He’s dead.’

CHAPTER ONE

BEFORE

She was floating, weightless and happy. The clear vision of calm stretched out for miles. As she drifted, she heard a muffled sound. It was coming for her. Bubbles began to fizz around her. Ominous ripples formed at the surface, their circles continuing into the distance. The sound climbed in pitch until it was a shrieking siren. A scaly hand reached down and dragged her towards the surface. She tried to unfurl the fingers that were clawing into her, desperate to stay, happy, for just a little while longer. The cold air slapped against her head as she broke the surface.

Alexis Elliot woke up gasping, eyes wide open. The siren continued to shriek, and with it her heart began to slow. She swiped for the snooze button and her phone clattered to the floor. She groaned and stretched her limbs; a long muscular arm encircled her from behind and pulled her backwards.

‘Five more minutes.’ Greg mumbled into her hair, kissing the back of her head.

Her feet pounded the pavement. There was a fine sprinkling of rain, the sun was beginning to ascend above the horizon. The streets passed her in a blur, looming with their tall-terraced houses, each one shielded by fences or low brick walls. Signs bought on e-bay affixed to gates for passers-by to Keep off the grass or Beware of the dog. Streetlamps buzzed with an orange glow, blurry bubbles in the mist. A grey cat watched her pass. Its sharp green eyes burned through the morning fog, following her.

She relished the quiet of these mornings. With the world still asleep she was invisible, gliding through the early hours. She could allow herself to become lost in her own realm of loud music and intense cardio. She pumped her arms and rolled her shoulders back as she rounded a corner.

Seventies rock and roll guitars screeched through her headphones. These were the only moments when she allowed herself to think of those early memories. Of her father. Him swinging her around the living room as they blared Led Zeppelin. She embraced the memory, the fuzziness wrapping her up like cotton wool. As the song faded, she quickly locked the memory away again, pushing down the feelings that came with it.

The familiar blocks of flats came into view. A smattering of illuminated windows gave the pattern of a smile with missing teeth. The lights bounced off the jumble of parked cars that swallowed half the pavement. She squeezed past them and raised her hand in thanks to a dog walker, who was pulling his Yorkshire terrier to the side and shielding his eyes from her chest torch. Her pace quickened as she turned another corner. The gradient began to decline under her feet, her speed picked up, limbs carving through the damp morning air.

Anticipation bubbled in her stomach as she turned down her street. Her brain fired through the day’s agenda: the sign-off meeting with her literary agent. Another finished novel. Then, the evening ahead, celebrating her success with her oldest friends. Thoughts of clinking glasses and laughter filled her head and she felt her shoulders loosen. It was going to be a great night.

She stretched her calf muscles at the end of the driveway. She gazed at their home, at the greenery that was luminous against the dull grey sky. At the monkey puzzle trees guarding their bottom step. At the pop of brightly coloured plants she didn’t recognise, trailing up to the front door. Greg must have changed them over again. He was compelled to surround their home with as many plants as he could cram in, every empty space an opportunity to fill with vibrant hues. A compromise for moving so close to the city, something he had insisted on when they had been looking for houses in the area. She remembered the squeeze of his hand on her arm the day they had viewed what was now their home. She shivered, realising she had been standing in her sweat-drenched clothes for too long, lost in another memory.

Greg was making coffee; the rich aroma filled her nostrils as she entered the kitchen, his back was to her in just a pair of grey shorts. She silently admired his broad and toned shoulders as he frothed milk. She leant against the doorframe and watched his muscles tense and relax with the motion. He turned and winked at her as he blew on his coffee. Something inside her fluttered.

‘Any chance you’re able to wash my lucky shirt for me this weekend?’ he asked casually, placing his mug on the counter.

She raised an eyebrow, ‘Hoping to get lucky, are we?’ She put a capsule in the coffee machine and shook her head, tutting, ‘Grown man that still can’t do his own washing.’

‘I know, I know!’ He grinned sheepishly, ‘But I just don’t want to mess up your system.’ The Welsh accent made her melt slightly, even if he was infuriating. He wrapped his arms around her and she felt his body tighten, squeezing her against his bare chest. She inhaled deeply, his unwashed scent soothing something primal in her.

‘It’s not a system, Greg,’ she shrugged him off. ‘It’s just transferring clothes from the laundry bin into the washing machine.’ She pressed a button on the coffee machine. Creamy coffee started to ooze into her cup, and then stopped and spluttered. The low whirring took on a high-pitched gurgle. Before she had a chance to disconnect the water box, he had quickly swooped one arm to the back of the coffee machine and unclicked it. He refilled it from the sink, ‘See, we both play our own roles in this house.’ He clicked the box back into place, the usual whirring resumed.

‘I know how to refill the coffee machine, I’m not a -,’ she snorted as he began to hop from side to side, unbrushed hair flapping against his ears.

‘It’s okay, you just need a strong man’s help sometimes.’ He flexed his biceps in an exaggerated pose. ‘That’s what I’m here for.’ She pushed him away, unable to help the throaty laugh from escaping.

‘You fancy going for breakfast before your meeting?’ He watched her, taking a sip from his mug. ’I’ve got lots of time before I have to pick the boys up.’ He grinned again.

She stretched her arms above her head, ‘God, you look like a kid on Christmas Eve.’

‘Can you blame me? Lucas is going to get absolutely tormented tonight.’ The childlike excitement in his voice implied exclamation marks at every syllable.

She took a sip of the hot coffee, slightly scalding her throat, just how she liked it. ‘It’s his Stag weekend for god’s sake, be nice.’ She had witnessed, first-hand, how his group of friends regressed whenever they got together. She had laughed along at first, in the same way that she had feigned interest in rugby games at first or endured drinking pints of lager over a cool, crisp Chardonnay. It was what you did in the beginning of a relationship. Now, she was sure to remove herself from social situations where crude remarks or drinking challenges were declared. Now, she made sure only to see them when they’d be accompanied by wives and girlfriends, and thus be reined in respectively.

‘Hey, it’s tradition.’ Greg paused, softening, ‘Don’t worry, when it’s my turn I’m sure the boys will go easy on me. They would never want to upset you.’

She smirked; they weren’t engaged but she knew it was coming soon. The priority, she had begrudgingly accepted, was finishing all the work to their home. Our security comes first, Alexis, he so frequently reminded her. All part of the country-boy allure. Growing up in London, she had never met anyone quite so charmingly naïve and protective. She couldn’t help but laugh when he had recounted his misfortunes from when he had first moved to Mile End to study Computer Engineering.  His bike had been stolen from campus, and then his laptop had been stolen from his dorm in succession. She had laughed more at the expectant expression on his face, a vulnerable innocent in the city’s thrum of chaos.

‘So, breakfast?’ Greg grinned again. His eyes were lit up by that slightly crooked smile and she was pulled back into the present.

 CHAPTER TWO

AFTER

She should have closed the curtains. Morning light exploded into the bedroom. Alexis squinted at her familiar surroundings. At the dizzying patterns of the velvet lampshade in the corner, at the photographs smiling from the wall, moments of staged happiness captured forever. With a belly full of booze and a pulsating headache she turned her face into the pillow, hoping to drift back to sleep. Then the pieces of last night rushed screaming into her mind and she darted upright, gasping for air. The blood. The body.

The sensation of drowning flooded over her. She couldn’t breathe. There was an ocean pounding in her ears. She was tossing in the turbulence of waves crashing and then sucking her backwards with the force of the current. When she was six years old her mother had taught her how to swim. She had told her the reason that most people drown is because they panic. She had told her if you are ever in this position, Alexis, keep calm and you will survive. Her voice was in her ears, so close she could be sitting next to her. She tried to keep calm now. She had to get her head above water.

She tried to remember the breathing techniques she knew so well. She placed a palm on her chest and felt her heart hammering against her ribcage. Count. Remember to count.  She breathed in for four, counting in her head. She breathed out for four, spluttering. She continued to count. In for four. Out for four. In for four. Out for four.

She could taste the saltiness of tears as they ran over her chewed lips and splashed onto her neck. In for four. Out for four. In for four. Out for four. She was above water. She could breathe again.

She climbed out of the empty bed. And, in that moment, she ached for Greg. It was a visceral aching, a tugging at her organs that would only settle with his presence. She had never been so desperate for him to hold her close to his chest so she could hear the steadying beat of his heart. To hear his velvety voice and inhale that musky vanilla scent of his aftershave. She longed for the bristle of his beard against her cheek as he kissed her hair and told her it would be okay.

She leant a hand against the wall to steady herself. She stumbled down the stairs. The fizzing in her head grew louder. Every footstep resonated inside her skull, as if something were rattling against it, trying to break out.

She winced as she turned into the kitchen. Their beautiful kitchen. The black and white square tiles that Greg had methodically mounted one weekend last Autumn, now gleamed up at her after Jane had rapidly scrubbed them of blood and footprints. The granite topped island that Greg had somehow obtained for free from a family friend, now hosted the four wine glasses they had used as a form of sleeping pill after they had dumped the body. To anyone else it would look like the remnants of a fun night-in. That’s all it was meant to be.

Until I killed him. Her legs quivered beneath her. She gripped the counter. The scene before her seemed to leer at her; daring her to believe the story they had constructed was true. She grabbed one of the wine glasses with a finger of red wine left and swallowed it in one. She felt the first layer of her muscles relax ever so slightly. She eyed the bottles in the wine rack and before she had even considered the time of day, she had poured herself another glass and raised it to her lips. The smell alone sent a wave of calm through her muscles. The thoughts in her brain started to quiet and cloud over. The thudding in her head became slower, a warming sensation began to drift through her veins. She was reminded of her father, the sag of relief in his shoulders as the first slug of whiskey worked its way down his throat.

‘Got another one?’ Oliver croaked from behind her. The long-stemmed glass slipped from her hand and crashed against the floor. Her layers of calm exploded with the noise. Instantly, she was transported back to last night. Glass shattering into tiny fragments, scattering across the tiles. Then that blow. It replayed in front of her. She had watched as his body had collapsed forward. His head had bounced, momentarily, against the hard surface.

She turned to see Oliver, drained of colour, dark smudges under his eyes. He held his hands up. ‘Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have…’

She exhaled sharply and put a hand on her chest. Her heart was thrashing painfully. She shook her head, ‘It’s okay.’

‘How about I clean this up whilst you get us a drink?’ He gestured to the shards of glass, gleaming in the pool of red. It was as if a wound had just been opened. Without thinking, she squatted down and lifted a jagged piece of glass from the pool of wine. That’s all it was. Wine. Wine seeping over the very tiles that he had been splayed out on. She jumped back up. She nodded, ‘Yes. Yes, let’s have a drink.’

They sat in silence. Alexis scanned her garden. Her eyes skittered from the outside sofa to the puddles along the patio, to the doors leading into the kitchen. She took another long gulp of her mimosa, the cocktail cold against her tongue. The racing images of last night slowed and blurred together. She glanced at Oliver. He was staring straight ahead at the patio doors, watching.

‘Are you guys really drinking right now?’ Jane appeared in the doorway; oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes. Her auburn hair fell perfectly around her sharp features, golds and coppers shimmered in the sunlight as she sauntered towards them. ‘I had the worst night’s sleep,’ she said, as if it were just a regular Saturday morning. She moved her sunglasses to the top of her head, pinning back her hair to show her beautiful bare face, rosy and glowing as if she’d just had a facial. ‘Look,’ she paused, glancing at them both in turn, ‘we need to talk about this – ‘

Oliver raised a hand to cut her off. ‘Remember what we said? We would never speak about it again. There is nothing we can do about it now.’ He lowered his voice ‘We’ve gone over our stories a thousand times, Jane.’ He paused and then added sombrely, ‘It wasn’t our fault. It was self-defence.’

‘But the body…’ Jane whispered, her features pinching for just a second as she perched at the wooden table, avoiding the puddles in the rivets along the bench. She picked up Oliver’s glass and drained it. She then promptly refilled it with cold prosecco. ‘Do you think it’s been reported already?’

‘Stop it, Jane.’ Oliver hissed.

She paused, the glass halfway to her pursed lips. ‘We should at least check.’ She pulled her phone from the pocket of her leather trousers and started to scroll with one perfectly manicured hand. The high-pitched ding of her nails tapping against her glass with the other hand, like a bird pecking at Alexis’s head. Ding-ding, ding-ding.

Liz shuffled into the patio doorway in a crumpled nightie and trainers, corkscrew curls a messy halo around her head. She hovered in the doorway and mumbled ‘I think we should go to the police.’ Alexis laughed, a nervous sound that escaped her mouth before she could control it. The edges around her were becoming fuzzy, like her peripheral vision was contracting.

‘We went to the police already,’ Oliver snapped back, exasperated.

‘Yes, but then we, then we…’ Liz’s face crumpled as she lifted her hands to her face, her shoulders heaving up and down. A sobering silence swept across them. Alexis fidgeted with her glass. Oliver stared straight ahead at Liz. Jane continued to concentrate fiercely on her phone. No one was making eye contact with Alexis. Her hands were turning clammy, she wiped them on her tracksuit bottoms.

Oliver took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his spiky white hair. He spread his hands face down on the table, steadying himself. ‘Look, it’s been done. There’s nothing we can do about it now.’

Oliver was right. He was right. It was over.

There was a movement from inside the house. A door slamming, and then heavy slow footsteps, growing louder. Liz dashed over to the table, out of view of the kitchen, and crouched next to Jane. The scene from last night replayed before them. Alexis, there’s someone in your house.

A figure filled the patio doorway and Alexis felt the relief sigh from her body. Greg. Home a day early. He looked straight ahead at the long garden, lost in thought for a moment. He then turned to see them hunched around the table. The sunlight beamed onto him in a way that streamlined his features. His jaw looked squarer, his cheekbones more prominent. Alexis felt the tension melt from her, and for a fleeting moment she forgot what had happened. ‘Greg! I thought you weren’t home until tomorrow?’

‘I just wanted to get back, you know me and hangovers.’ His voice was croaky. She saw something drift across his face. A darkness that shifted his features, just for a second. She frowned. Had something happened? ‘Looks like you guys are enjoying some hair of the dog?’ There was a strain to the lightness in his voice.

Her friends all laughed in a tinny and high-pitched chorus. It sounded like a rehearsed reaction. It was like she was watching the scene through a thick glass pane. A spectator. Greg frowned slightly, not moving from the doorway. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yes!’ Alexis jumped up before anyone could speak. Dizziness spun through her head again, but she had never been so relieved to see him. She went over and planted a soft kiss on his lips. She wrapped her arms around his waist and breathed him in: fresh cotton and that vanilla musk. His presence began to calm her instantly, ‘How was your night?’

He cleared his throat and squinted into the sunlight, ‘Yeah, great thanks, I’ll tell you all about it later.’

‘Care to join us?’ Oliver called from the table, waving the bottle of prosecco in Greg’s direction. Alexis watched Greg’s face as he managed a small smile and scratched his head. Looking over her own shoulder she saw the scene from his perspective. Untouched buttered toast, a pitcher of orange juice and a half-drunk bottle of prosecco, laid out between her friends. A celebratory brunch. ‘You all carry on without me, I just really need to get in the shower and run some errands.’

Oliver put the bottle heavily back down on the table with a thud. The sound vibrated through Alexis like a shockwave. She hadn’t realised she had jumped until Greg was rubbing his hand against her upper arm. ‘Everything okay, Alexis?’ She could hear the bottle connecting with the man’s skull. ‘Alexis?’ Greg was holding onto both her shoulders now, searching her eyes.

She jolted herself back to the present and shrugged. ‘Yeah, everything’s fine. Think I’m just a bit dazed, you know, too much tequila.’ He eyed her for a moment. He then planted a kiss on her forehead. ‘Well. Enjoy. I’m going to clean myself up and get some stuff done.’ He turned to her friends and held his hand up, ‘Ladies, and Oliver, don’t get into any more trouble now.’

Another hollow laugh. Alexis slowly retreated to her friends. Disappointment pulled at her as Greg went back inside. She grabbed her glass from the table and finished off her cocktail, immediately pouring herself another glass. The aching in the pit of her stomach started to numb.

‘You can’t tell him, Lex.’ Jane spoke quietly and slowly. Her crystal blue eyes seemed to pierce through her. She nodded silently.

After the prosecco had been drained, her friends had left. Now, she was slumped on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. She rolled an empty flute glass between her hands rhythmically to the drum of the washing machine. She felt as if she was in a trance. Thoughts were careering through her mind, colliding into one another, escaping before she could grasp them. The alcohol had slowed them down. But now that she was alone, they had started to claw their way back through her conscience, scrambling over one another to be noticed. Her head hung low; her arms rested on the cool granite. Black with glints of silver gleamed up at her.

She realised the kitchen had been cleaned. There was no longer the evidence of their self-medicating panic. She exhaled a loud sigh. It seemed to echo throughout the room. Then something, she wasn’t sure what, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. The thrum of the washing machine sped up to a high-pitched screech as the programme kicked into ‘dry’ mode. The sound pierced through her. Had Greg put the washing machine on?

She felt something burn in the back of her head. Was she being watched? She snapped her head round. The wide patio doors presented the emptiness of their garden. She saw a bird pecking at the feeder hanging from the apple tree. A robin, was it? Her vision was blurred. She squinted at the colours of the bird and then realised she didn’t care.

She got up to refill her drink. The image of her father slumped in his armchair came back to her as the plum-coloured wine splashed into her glass. She could smell the whiskey on his breath, she could see the light dimmed in his eyes. A thick cloud menaced above her, threatening to burst. She raised the glass to her lips.

 CHAPTER THREE

BEFORE

The coffee shop was full. They had to swoop onto a rickety table in the corner as soon as its residents had stood to leave. A group of mums had pushed three tables together next to them, prams lined up like a protective border. They talked animatedly, stopping to coo in turn at each squirming baby. The coffee grinder whirred noisily. The dainty bell on the door rang out every few seconds with the continuous bustle of Guildford. The warming scent of freshly toasted Paninis drifted through the air.

‘I think that guy must be going for a job interview,’ Alexis spoke in Greg’s ear, nodding to a nervous boy, his acne-prone skin, and the suit, which drowned his skinny frame, betraying his teenage years.

‘Oh god, poor guy.’ Greg whispered back. ‘I remember my first interview. Is there a worse feeling?’

‘What about this woman, here?’ Alexis said, eyeing a tall middle-aged woman. She wore a beautiful spring dress and leather jacket. Her hair was curled into waves, her makeup flawless. But her eyes were darting to each table as she stood, clutching her phone.

‘First date?’ Greg mumbled through bites of his toasted sandwich.

‘Now that is the worst feeling.’ she said sympathetically, looking around for the person this woman might be here to meet. As she scanned the room, she noticed the usual lingering stares. The subconscious fingers twirling strands of hair. The gazes momentarily slipping to Alexis, their expressions clear: how the hell did she get so lucky. She wasn’t stupid. She knew Greg was painfully handsome. She was often grateful for how unobservant she was. After years of counselling, she had carefully constructed a world in which she had bubble-wrapped herself so tightly that she could live in blissful ignorance. Her parents would be so proud.

Alexis felt her phone buzz in her pocket and jumped up. ‘Shit, I’m late.’ The movement had sent her empty plate crashing to the floor. The group of mums erupted into a chorus of laughter as she swiped at the spilt crumbs on her trousers. Greg bent down to pick up the broken pieces of the plate, ‘Only you, Alexis,’ he chuckled. His voice was always so calming; it helped to ease her embarrassment, to soften the flush in her cheeks. She watched as he went to the counter and talked animatedly to the girl serving. The girl giggled and pushed her lips together as she took the broken pieces of china.

‘Come on then, aren’t you late?’ He motioned for Alexis to follow him.

They stepped out into the dazzling March sunlight. Greg pulled her towards him and kissed her hard on the mouth. ‘Have fun tonight with the girls,’ he said softly.

‘And you go easy on poor Lucas! He better be in one piece for the wedding or Lilianna will kill you.’ She smiled up at him.

‘I’ll tell you all about it on Sunday.’ He took a step back but held onto her hand before letting it go. He seemed to be memorising her face. His eyes ran over her long dark hair dancing in the wind and then lingered on her smiling lips. ‘How about we have a take-away Sunday night and watch some terrible movie?’ he asked, squeezing her hand gently.

She smiled back, ‘Sounds perfect.’

*

She tapped her chipped fingernails on her notebook as she waited. She wrapped her hands tightly together, trying to hide the flaky blue nail polish. Nina was shuffling through her notes, muttering.

This was her fourth draft; Alexis was sure she had nailed it. She had worked tirelessly. Only the other week she had to pull her car over in a lay-by, scribbling frantic notes before the ideas disappeared into the abyss of her chaotic brain. She had been returning from her weekly yoga session with Jane, who was adamant they never miss their session or - more importantly - their coffee date beforehand. It’s the only time I get to see you, Alexis, just you and me, she’d always purr. Although Alexis knew Jane’s insistency wasn’t to achieve a decompressed mind, body, and soul, but to vent about the incompetent staff that ran her Guildford boutique. It’s a good job I do check up on them every Wednesday, she’d announce, waving her taloned hands about to demonstrate her impatience. Nothing like the standard of the team on Regent Street, Alexis.

As she sat in Nina’s office now, she realised she was tapping her boots against her chair leg. She took a deep breath in through her nose to calm herself and held it in her belly, before slowly exhaling.

‘Don’t worry, it all looks great.’ Nina muttered into the papers. Alexis let out a nervous laugh that had been bubbling in her throat. She smoothed down her sage trousers, inspecting them for stray crumbs. She glanced down at her striped blouse. No buttons were gaping open, no coffee had been spilt down it.

‘So!’ Nina exclaimed decisively, slapping her hands down in front of her, making Alexis jump a little. ‘Your fourth draft.’ She swiftly moved her glasses on top of her bushy hair and leaned back. Her chair gave out a small groan. ‘It’s great! Alexis, it is really great.’

She winced, ‘But?’

‘Ah yes, there is a “but”!’ Nina countered sharply. She smiled warmly, waiting a moment as if to build suspense, before leaning in like she was revealing a secret, ‘But you’re not quite finished yet!’ She wagged a bony finger and Alexis felt a deflation in her chest. She tried to focus on Nina’s words that followed but all she could hear was her teeth grounding together to suppress a scream.

‘This last part where Johnathon is about to come face to face with the evil spirits,’ Nina’s voice droned on, a buzzing in her ears. ‘I still need more tension building.’ Nina was gesticulating with her hands dramatically. ‘I’m nervous, I’m definitely nervous!’ She gave a small laugh and Alexis felt her facial muscles tighten. ‘Oh and there are times when I am quite scared for him. But I’m not…’ using her bony fingers as quotation marks ‘On-the-edge-of-my-seat-I-need-to-keep-reading-to-find-out-what-happens-to-the-characters-kind-of-scared.’ She tapped the manuscript with her hand folded into a claw, each word out of her mouth like a punch in the gut. ‘Let’s. Put. More. In.’

‘What the hell does “more” mean?!’ Alexis bit down on her tongue to stop the words flying out and instead cleared her throat and said, ‘More?’

‘You’re writing a horror story Alexis. I want to be so terrified that I can’t put the book down!’ Nina chuckled like they were sharing a joke. ‘This last part,’ she waved dismissively over the papers, ‘embellish it even more. Build the suspense even longer. Johnathon is fearing for his life. But the reader needs to be fearing for his life. The plot!’ She clicked her fingers, ‘The plot is spot on.’

‘Okay.’ Alexis nodded. Exhaustion and disappointment curdled like sour milk in her stomach.

‘Spot on!’ Nina repeated. ‘You’re almost there!’ She pulled her glasses down over her nose again. ‘How about one week from now, we go over this again?’

Alexis felt her shoulders jerk up to her ears. One week? She had bled every ounce of energy into this piece of work. Every last drop of her creativity. She hadn’t had any time or energy for freelancing work alongside it. And her bank account showed. And now Nina, so brazenly, wanted her to make another round of adjustments, in just one week? She took a deep breath in through her nose. She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, trying to pay close attention to all the ridges in her skin.

‘Well,’ Nina cocked her head to the side. She reminded Alexis of some sort of bird, her erratic movements and large blinking eyes behind those oversized glasses. ‘Get me the draft by next Thursday evening. That will give me time to read it before we meet next, let’s say… Friday afternoon?’ She swung round on her chair to double check her calendar. ‘Yes, 3pm? Friday? Okay?’

‘Yes, 3pm. Friday. Okay.’ Alexis parroted. She felt her body deflate again, and with it, any power for negotiation.

‘If it’s good to go by then, I will speak to the publishers the following Monday.’ Nina said, waggling her eyebrows enticingly.

Alexis smiled back politely. Okay, she thought, now I’m getting somewhere. Nina handed the manuscript back to her. It had doubled in size. Brightly coloured stickers bristled from between the pages like thorns. Nina blinked and nodded. That was her cue to leave.

Alexis kept the polite smile smoothed onto her face as she walked through the corridor. She passed the reception desk, where Nina’s assistant, Daniel, called out a cheery ‘See you soon!’ after her. She nodded and felt his unwavering gaze hot on the back of her neck. She hurriedly made her way out through the glass doors and into the car park. When she was in the safety of her car, she let the tears fall. After a minute or so she physically shook herself, wiped her cheeks dry and took three deep breaths. On the journey home she blasted David Bowie to quieten her thoughts.

As she turned into their driveway, she clicked her key fob for the garage door and speed-dialled Greg. She watched in her rear-view mirror as the grey metal door slid up and back inside the garage. The phone rang three times. ‘Hey!’ His syrupy voice made her bottom lip wobble, like a child’s. ‘How did it go? She give you the go-ahead?’

She reversed her Golf into the garage, forcing false joviality into her voice, ‘Not quite up to Nina’s standards, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, Alexis, I’m so sorry. I know how hard you’ve been working on this. I really thought you were done.’ The sultry tones of his voice loosened the knots in her stomach slightly.

‘It’s okay, really,’ She cleared her throat and watched the garage door slide back down, blanketing her in darkness. She turned off the engine and considered staying here for a while. Sluggishly, she held her phone between her ear and shoulder, picked up her bags and climbed out of the car. ‘But she wants all edits in by next Thursday evening.’ Could he hear the whine in her voice? The reluctant child in her that wanted to protest that it’s not fair? She swallowed it down. Just as she had learned.

She heard a low whistle from Greg. She fumbled for the garage light switch and unlocked the internal door to the house. ‘It doesn’t sound like there’s too much more to do,’ he said, absently.

‘What makes you say that?’ she mumbled back as she heaved her heavy legs up the garage steps and back into the house. The bright lights of the hallway welcomed her home. She flicked the light switch off.

‘Alexis,’ his voice was so soothing. She wished he were here with her so she could curl into him while he told her it would all be okay. ‘You still don’t realise how well I know you, do you?’

She forced a soft chuckle, kicking herself for displaying such obvious vulnerability. ‘Well how was the journey? You get there okay?’

‘Absolutely fine, we’re just about to hit the pubs,’ there was a rustling in the background. ‘Listen Alexis, it’s okay to be disappointed. I can’t imagine how frustrated you must be. Call me anytime, okay?’

She nodded, ‘Yeah, honestly, I’ll be okay, I’ve got my girls coming round later, I’ll be fine.’

‘Well you keep yourself busy this afternoon and don’t touch that novel – you need a break.’ His voice sent an involuntary warm buzz through her. It still surprised her just how well he did know her.

CHAPTER FOUR

HIM

I know you so well, Alexis. From the very first time we met I felt like I could see into your soul. I saw your radiant smile and the whole room lit up. I was in awe of the way your deep brown eyes sparkled. The way your long dark hair cascaded gloriously down your back. The way you moved, gliding effortlessly behind that bar.

I remember you were wearing a pastel pink cardigan, matching your floral skirt. It was just short enough to show off the definition in your calf muscles as you moved. I remember seeing these men leer at you from their bar stools and felt an urgent need to protect you.

There were two other girls working with you that day. One of them shared an inside joke as you carried pints of lager over to a group of older gentlemen. You tilted your head back ever so slightly and let out a short laugh. A sound that rung through the air and I knew, in that moment, I wanted to hear that laugh every day for the rest of my life.

I remember when you turned to me and we locked eyes, there was an instant spark fizzing between us, like an invisible firework. I knew you felt it too. You smiled that beautiful wide smile, just for me, and asked me what I’d like to drink. And right then, in that moment, I knew you were the one.