‘Ah you silly sausage, you don’t need to answer to me.’ He grinned. ‘But youdostink.’
‘Thanks a lot.’
He kissed my forehead. ‘Anyway, Fag Ash Lil, what have I done to deserve this unexpected display of affection?’
I shrugged, hardly able to believe I’d got away with it. ‘Nothing wrong with giving my husband a cuddle is there?’
‘Nothing wrong at all. It’s just unusual, that’s all.’
‘I’m proud of you,’ I said.
‘Proud of me? For what?’
‘Tackling your gambling. I know it’s hard, but I know you’re doing your best.’
He watched me for a moment, then leant down and planted a gentle kiss on my lips.
‘Thank you Erin. I promise not to slip up any more.’ He held three fingers to his forehead. ‘Scouts honour.’
‘Good.’ I pulled away. ‘Now, where are these mince pies you promised?’
‘Right here,’ he said, sliding a tray of golden brown pies across the worktop.
‘I might just go and get changed and have one when I come back down, okay?’
‘Sure. I’ll pour you a Baileys as well.’
I headed up the stairs and into our en suite bathroom. I locked the door and sat on the toilet lid, then pulled Adam’s present out of my bag. It had been burning a hole in my side since I’d left his house. I tore the paper off and there was a small box inside. Carefully, I lifted the lid off. There, nestled in pink tissue paper, was a black musical note, a crotchet, on a delicate silver chain. I picked it up and put it round my neck and did up the clasp. It nestled neatly between my collar bones. I touched it with my fingertips and shivered. Then I gathered up the wrapping paper and was about to shove it into the bottom of my handbag when I noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside. I pulled it out and read the writing scrawled there.
Dear Erin. I might not remember you, but you’re music to my ears. Merry Christmas. Love A. x
Trying not to think too much about what this meant, I tucked the necklace beneath my jumper, hid the note at the bottom of my handbag, and headed back downstairs, trying to ignore the guilt that sat like a rock in the bottom of my belly.
14
THEN
Pearl Jam: ‘Black’
There was a loud, insistent banging at the door and Erin sat bolt upright, her heart pounding. Beside her, fully clothed, Greg snored away, oblivious.
Bang bang bang bang. ‘Erin, let me in!’
Adam.
Erin shook Greg awake and he groaned sleepily and peeled his eyes open.
‘Wha’?’
‘Adam’s here. Get up!’ she hissed, yanking his arm.
As Greg sat up and slid off the bed and onto the chair by her desk, bleary-eyed and befuddled, Erin stumbled over to the door. They had fallen asleep last night after sharing a bottle of gin – Greg had sat an exam that hadn’t gone very well and Erin had helped him drown his sorrows. But now Adam was here and even Greg was aware that it looked bad that she had another man in her room. Especially him, who, Greg knew, Adam was suspicious enough of anyway.
With a quick glance over her shoulder to check that Greg was out of her bed, Erin took a deep breath and pulled the door open with a flourish.
‘Adam!’ she cried, and fell into him. As Greg watched, a ball of fury rose in his chest as Adam tried to wrap his arms around Erin but instead stumbled sideways into the door frame. He looked rough, his hair unwashed, his eyes bloodshot. There was an undeniable fug of whisky fumes around him. He was pissed. Great.
‘Are you drunk?’ Erin said, peering up at him.
