‘No, Liv, it’s fine,’ he replies.
‘Tom, it’s a nightmare journey. It must have taken you close to ten hours to get here. Why would you do that to yourself when you could do it in half the time and bring all your stuff back with you?’
His facial features are taut and he seems to be avoiding eye contact.
‘Is it me?’ I ask in a small voice.
‘No, Liv, it’s definitely not you,’ he promises adamantly, reaching across the table to take my hand.
Nowhe meets my eyes and I’m relieved to see that he’s sincere.
‘Then why won’t you let me drive you? We could go after lunch tomorrow and come back Tuesday night. I have those days off anyway.’
‘Thank you, but no,’ he replies firmly, extracting his hand and picking up his spoon. ‘I need to do this by myself.’
‘Well, in that case, I’m putting you on my car insurance,’ I state firmly, trying to ignore the sting.
I think I’m helping him by insisting, but he slams his spoon down.
‘I don’twantyou to put me on your insurance,’ he says sharply, his eyes sparking as he shoves his chair back.
‘Why not?’ I find the courage to ask as he begins to pace the room.
‘Because I don’t drive,’ he snaps.
I stare at him as he rakes his hand through his hair, frustrated.
I’m lost for words. But he’s a helicopter pilot!
Isn’t he?
How can henothave a driving licence?
And then it occurs to me: he’s lost it.
What happened?
Did he drive too fast?
Drink too much and get behind a wheel?
Did he hurt someone?
Kill someone?
Has he lost his job because he killed someone?
Is that why he’s here?
Wait.Is he on the run?He turned up with just a rucksack …Who does that?
He lets out a long, heavy sigh as he watches all these thoughts racing around my head.
‘I very much doubt it’s any of the things you’re thinking,’ he says heavily, his voice sounding extremely weary as he sits back down at the table and rubs his jaw.
‘Why can’t you just tell me?’ I ask quietly as he looks away.
A moment later, he returns his gaze to mine, his golden-brown eyes full of resignation.
