Aargh! It’s what she always reverted to when we talked about Luke. I’d been Golden Keying him for years and the universe still hadn’t sorted it out.
‘Off to sleep with you now, pet. Ring me if you need me. Harry never minds.’
Again, I thought about ringing Quin, maybe going over to his and climbing under his duvet, where he’d hold me tight. But it would be a mistake to let him see the state of me. He’d be hurt. Mistrustful even. And that would linger long after my feelings about Luke had returned to normal.
More in hope than expectation I went to bed. Please make me sleep. But that wasn’t how my higher power rolled. There was no point ever in me asking for something specific – Chanel bags, global cooling, green traffic lights all the way home – the only thing I had consistently been given was an eventual acceptance of my situation, whatever that was.
Sure enough, an overload of adrenaline powered through me – I’d be awake all night at this rate. I had to get back out of bed and huff and puff my way through allegedly calming ‘breath-work’ for all the good it did.
As the clock ticked past 1 a.m., anger began to build. I’d always been a person of delayed reactions, absolutely useless at defending myself in the moment, instead having fabulously articulate middle-of-the-night back-and-forths in my own head, several hours or days or even weeks after the appropriate time.
How dare Luke Costello barge into my home and hit me up with a load of nonsense allegations? All the times I’d tried to get him to talk to me and it took this?
And the absolute nerve of him acting like the wronged party! He had left me.
At about 2 a.m., admitting defeat, I got dressed, summoned Crunchie, found the torch and went outside. （The torch was one of my touchstones, a sure sign that I was an adult. It was the first thing I’d spent money on that I didn’t need immediately, but ‘in case of a power cut’。 It wasn’t even a nice colour.） We headed for the trees, Crunchie casting me uneasy glances: was this middle-of-the-night wood-walking going to become a thing?
‘Who knows?’ I said to her.
I was never more grateful for her because once you’ve a dog, you can go anywhere. A long-haired woman in her forties walking alone in the forest in the dead of night is a candidate for being burnt as a witch. But throw in a dog and suddenly everything is grand. （‘Stand down the pyre, lads, she has a dog!’） As I tramped along in the dimly lit darkness, details that had registered only subconsciously at the time were coming into focus. The big boots Luke had been wearing had given him an extra inch or so over me, making him even more daunting. Had it been deliberate, I wondered. Who knew? Anything was possible because he was not the man I’d once known.
He’d even smelt different – we’d been so near to each other in my living room that the angry heat of his body had reached me. But everything which contributes to the unique smell of a person – detergent, soap, food, environment – had changed.
Also, his overcoat wasn’t very him. Maybe he’d borrowed it from one of his brothers? Or maybe that was his look now – because his jeans were different too. Definitely not as tight as they used to be. My sisters would be devastated.
Beside me, Crunchie was panting. Part corgi, part golden retriever, her short little legs weren’t able for this. ‘Okay, we’ll go home.’
Sometime around 3.30 a.m. I dropped off. Only to be woken at seven twenty-five by my phone ringing – Luke.
Jesus Christ.
‘Luke?’ My mouth tasted of rage. ‘What have I done now?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said heavily. ‘Last night. Losing the head. Calling to your home. I shouldn’t have done it. Any of it. I’m sorry.’
I hadn’t a clue what to say.
‘… You still there?’ he asked.
I took refuge in therapy talk. ‘Your mum has died,’ I said. ‘You’re in shock.’
‘I don’t know what got into me.’
‘It’s okay. Let it go.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yes. Take care of yourself.’
‘Uh. Okay. You too.’
‘Okay.’ Then, ‘Bye.’
‘Bye.’
His breathing was still audible when I hung up.
20
Luke had to be put out of my head; big work stuff was going down today. I printed out all the information I needed and went to the morning meeting. But sitting at the table, a wave of exhaustion hit. I could have fallen asleep there and then.
Luckily, Murdo stuck his head into the room and crooked a finger: Trassa’s son Ronan had arrived. The adrenaline from this would keep me going.