And then, suddenly, the air thickened around them and it all didn’t seem so funny anymore. Anna swallowed and glanced back towards the pub.
‘I think it’s easing—’ she began.
At exactly the same time he said, ‘There’s something—’
They both fell silent.
‘Anna,’ he began again. ‘Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?’
No frills. No beating around the bush. Anna liked that approach, or she would have done if her mind hadn’t been full of blaring sirens and flashing lights. The little alarm was making up for lost time. Her hand shook as she hitched her handbag strap over her shoulder. That fight or flight feeling was back again in full force, and since she wasn’t about to punch Jeremy on the nose, that left only one option.
Not Spencer.
I know, shut up, okay. I know. I’m dealing with it.
‘I’m sorry…’ she began.
‘I don’t think I’m reading this wrong, am I?’ he said softly, plainly. Not in an accusing way but in a curious, slightly confused way. ‘I mean, just then…’
Anna might be a coward but she wasn’t cruel enough to lie to him about that. She shook her head. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘You weren’t imagining it.’
‘But…?’
‘You are nice,’ she said forlornly. ‘You’re the first person I even…’ She trailed off, obviously not as brave as she wanted to be. She looked down at her feet for a moment. ‘It still doesn’t mean that I’m ready,’ she added, looking back up at him. ‘Not yet.’
‘I see,’ he said gently. There was a warmth in his eyes that made her want to cry.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.
He nodded, not in agreement that she had something to apologize for but merely to signal her message had been received and understood.‘It’s okay. I can’t pretend I can understand what you’ve been through, but I do understand why you might be hesitant.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied quietly.
He nodded again, then turned and strode across the pub garden, turning the collar of his jacket up as he went. When he reached the back door, he gave her another nod and then disappeared inside. She stared after him, hugging herself, and the rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
Moments later, Gabi appeared. ‘Was that Jeremy? You were out here together alone?’ she asked, not doing a very good job at hiding her glee as she looked over her shoulder.
‘Yes,’ Anna said, staring blankly in the same direction. For some reason, she felt hollow.
‘And?’
Anna turned and headed to the gate that led directly onto the street. ‘And nothing.’
Chapter Twenty
BRODY PULLED INTO the car park of the big supermarket in Totnes. It was seven thirty on a Monday morning, probably one of the quietest times of the week to go grocery shopping. However, he wasn’t here to go grocery shopping. Not exactly.
He ignored the neat rows of parking bays nearer the store where the majority of spaces were filled and pulled his Land Rover into the middle of a row of empty bays at the far end. He turned the engine off and sat there, taking stock.
His breathing was even. No headaches or tingling. His pulse was faster than normal, considering he was a pretty fit guy, but it wasn’t hammering.This is good, he told himself.This is okay.
He glanced at the book lying on the passenger seat.Panic Attacks and Agoraphobia: A Practical Guide. It had taken him a week to order it after the incident at Moji’s shop, another two before he’d opened the cover, and he’d been reading it on and off for the last month or so.
The early chapters on self-care hadn’t seemed very useful, so he’d skipped over them. He ate well, looked after himself, ran at least four times a week. Nothing new to learn there. He’d also skipped over the following few chapters of psychobabble,suggesting things like journaling. What was he? A thirteen-year-old girl? Besides, every time he picked up a pen, it was the same. His brain emptied and all he could do was stare at the blank page. Hardly a therapeutic pursuit.
What had caught his interest was the section full of practical tips and exercises. ‘Systematic desensitization’ was where he’d eventually landed. He could see the sense in that: expose yourself to a situation that has caused panic before – but do it in a smaller way, tackle the situation in bite-sized pieces – and gradually you should be able to defuse some of those panic attack triggers.
This supermarket had seemed the obvious place. He’d had his very first attack here, right in the middle of the fresh produce section. At the time, he’d thought he was dying. He’d been sure he was either having a heart attack or a stroke, that something inside his brain had just popped, ripping through his consciousness, erasing neurons left and right, doing untold damage. Other shoppers had frowned and tutted, assuming he was under the influence of something other than his own brokenness.
