‘What is it, darling?’ She stepped aside,letting me in. Roxy bounded up to me, jumping up, placing her paws on my chest. Giving her a quick pat, I pushed her away. She plopped back to the floor with a huff.
Every muscle in my body felt tense, ready for an attack. Only I didn’t know when it would strike. My breaths come out in short pants. I was dying. It’s the only explanation. I waved my hands in the air, shaking them out. ‘I-I don’t know, but s-something’s wrong.’
Mum shut the door and immediately scanned me from head to toe. ‘Do you need to go to the hospital?’
I shook my head. ‘N-not that kind of wrong, but then again, I don’t know because maybe there is something fundamentally screwed up in my head.’ I placed a hand on my chest, my heart thrashing like a kick drum under it. Mum held out her hands as if to hug me, but stopped halfway. Looking unsure why her daughter had just come into her house looking like a raving lunatic.
I slipped off my coat, letting it drop to the floor. Shaking out my limbs. My extremities going numb. ‘Oh, God, why do I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin.’
‘Sweetie, let’s take some deep breaths.’ She placed a warm hand on my shoulder. I slipped out of her hold, furiously shaking my head.
‘Can’t.’ I flapped my hands again. ‘T-that’s the point.’
Herding me like a lost sheep down the hallway, we entered the kitchen.
Dried flowers on the table, an open notebook with mum’s illegible scrawl on the paper splayed out. The familiar scent of lavender should have been comforting, but right now, it felt suffocating. Bringing up every memory I’d worked hard to keep shoved down in that deep, dark place in my soul.
‘Is this a panic attack? I think I’m having one—’ Air wasn’t getting into my lungs. It felt trapped and no amount of clawing at the skin on my chest was easing the passage.
Mum cast a wild look round the room. She looked as lost as I did. Roxy, sensing the urgency of the situation, sat quietly at my feet. ‘Sweetie, you’ll be okay. Just take some deep breaths.’
I rolled my eyes, bringing a trembling hand to my chest. ‘Didn’t… think of… that.’
‘Sit down, I’ll make some tea?—’
‘No tea!’ The words ripped from my throat.
Mum flung her arms in the air, all her patience evaporating. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Rosie Grange, sit your bum on that chair and stop flailing your arms about.’ Stunned by the firmness in her tone that I hadn’t heard since I was a little kid, my mouth snapped shut. Fingers still trembling, I collapsed into one of the wooden chairs at the dining room table. Giving a satisfied nod, she folded her arms over her chest. ‘Right, we’re going to sort this out, but you need to stop acting like a cartoon character about to shoot off into orbit.’
She went to a cabinet in the corner, reached up and plucked out two glasses and a bottle of dark brown liquid.
Taking a seat next to me at the table, I watched in silence as she uncorked the bottle of whiskey and poured a generous helping into a glass, pushing it towards me. I took a fortifying sip, letting the liquid coat my throat and praying that it also calmed the anxiety taking root in my body.
‘Better?’ She arched a brow.
My ability to draw in a full breath was slowly returning, but the panic still sat at the end of my fingers like an electrical current. I stared at the whiskey in my glass, shaking my head. ‘No.’
Mum took my answer with a curt nod, screwing the lid back on the whiskey.
‘I’m going to go out on a limb and say this outburst is because of a rather handsome man I met a few weeks ago.’
I lifted the drink to my lips and took another long sip, nodding.
Without preamble, she said, ‘You love him.’
I slammed the glass down, splashing some over the side. Mum didn’t even flinch, taking a casual sip of her own as she surveyed me with a knowing expression on her face. ‘Why does everyone keep saying that?’
‘Everyone?’ she queried.
‘You,’ I spluttered. ‘Alistair.’ I was playing fast and loose with the termeveryone.Two was more than enough to have the gremlin in my stomach start dancing a jig.
She peered at me over the rim of her glass. Slowly, she placed it down, not looking at me as she spoke. ‘Are you saying it’s not true?’
All the energy in my body evaporated. I propped my elbows on the table, letting my head fall into my waiting palms.
‘I—’ I started, but gave up when the words wouldn’t come. ‘It’s not true.’ My voice cracked on the last word. Itcouldn’t be true.
Pain, raw and unfiltered, slashed across Mum’s face. Eyes the same colour as mine held my gaze. ‘I knew this would happen. Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long to work it out.’
