My cherry blossom mural had almost gone, dozens of happy hours at the beginning of this adventure with Cal now erased.
‘Hestia, I’m sorry,’ Cal said, stepping into the room behind me, careful to keep his distance.
‘I don’t have the strength for this,’ I admitted, turning to him.
‘I did fake it,’ he blurted, grimacing as I frowned. ‘I didn’t end up in hospital because I overdosed. I mean, I did get fucked up and go there for a few hours, but it was only long enough for Mum to visit before they made me leave.’
I stared at him, trying, failing to make sense of it.
‘It was the only way I could think of to get you home,’ he said, running his hands through his hair. ‘Becca was . . . she was just a distraction, nothing important,’ he dismissed. ‘The timing of you coming back was fucked up, though. I never would’ve—’
‘Stop, Cal,’ I murmured, shaking my head. ‘Just stop. Why did you think it would change anything? We ended months ago.’
‘I know, I just thought . . . you were so fucking good to me when I was in hospital before, for real. Those weeks afterwards were some of the best of the past couple of years between us, weren’t they? I guess I wanted to try . . .’ He sighed. ‘But, yeah. I don’t know. I hadn’t counted on you having changed so much since you’d been gone.’
I stopped, the build-up of disbelief and anger dissolving.
‘Changed? What do you mean?’
He gestured at me, shrugging.
‘You’re . . . different. Something’s changed in here,’ he said, motioning to his temple. ‘Whatever you think about me, Hes, I do know you.Didknow you.’
We held each other’s gaze then, registering an acute sadness at the distinction.
‘And while I’m putting the truth out there,’ he added, looking away for a moment, glancing at the scrubbed mural, ‘it wasn’t just a bender we were on in here. This was anger . . . revenge, I guess.’
Wide-eyed, I shook my head.
‘Because I went on holiday?’ I asked, not quite believing it, not even of him.
‘No,’ he replied, exhaling. ‘Not because of you. Because the fucking landlord is selling this place. He used the break clause in our lease and gave us notice a couple of weeks ago. This place is being knocked down in a couple of months to make way for luxury flats.’
My jaw dropped open.
‘We’re out? Just like that?’
He nodded.
‘Three or four weeks left on the lease. Years of work, establishing this place and . . . gone. Almost overnight. Story of this whole area, though, right? It was bound to happen sooner or later.’
And as I looked around the room – the memories faded to nothing, just the scrubbed, sterile remains left behind – the one connection holding me to London, to Cal and our old life, simply . . . disintegrated.
Gone.
‘We need to sell the flat, Cal,’ I said, a strange sense of calm pervading. ‘We’re both going to need the money to start again.’
He nodded.
‘You’re not staying here, though, are you?’ he asked, scuffing at the floor with his shoes.
I shook my head gently, taking one last look around the space where I’d spent most of my adult life.
‘No, I don’t think I am.’
CHAPTER22
HESTIA
