‘Embrace the present,’ said the same silky voice, ‘and stop dwelling on the past.’
Kieran blinked and stared at the cat. ‘Did you just…?’
Prom stared back, unblinking.
He remembered that night at the pub: the voice whispering in his mind.
‘This is not real. I need air,’ he said, grabbing his trainers.
Outside, Cranley glistened. The storm had scrubbed everything clean. Branches littered the pavements, flower tubs sat askew, but the air tasted fresh, sharp with petrichor.
He ran past Jo’s café and she waved at him, scarf flapping. Past cottages drying out, the villagers sweeping debris.
Each stride loosened something. The memory of Beth’s calm during the chaos replayed in his head: her laugh, her steady hands, her refusal to panic.She’s different, he thought.She makes the noise in my head quiet.
The stream beside the road had swollen into a fast, muddy ribbon. He paused to catch his breath, staring into its restless churn. Maybe he was running from Lisa. Maybe from himself.
‘You think too much,’ came the voice again – amused, musical.
Kieran stiffened.
‘You really ought to relax. All that brooding’s bad for the complexion.’
‘You’re not real,’ he whispered.
‘If that helps you sleep,’ said the voice, fading like the last pluck of a harp string.
He blew out a shaky laugh and started running again.Maybe I need to see a doctor,he thought again, but there was something oddly comforting in that unseen presence. Mischievous, but not unkind.
By the time he reached the ridge, the clouds had broken. Sunlight spilled over Cranley, turning the wet rooftops to gold.The Jekyll and Hydestood proud at its heart, white walls gleaming. A tug in his chest pulled him towards the pub. Towardsher.
He hesitated, then ran downhill.
Beth was back in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, laughter rising above the clatter of plates. The lunchtime rush was ebbing. She’d been up since dawn, helping organise meals for families hit by flooding. Her hair was in a messy bun; flour streaked her cheek.
She heard a knock at the back door and opened it to the welcome sight of Kieran.
‘You going to lurk there all day or come in and eat something?’ she said with a smile.
He grinned. ‘That’s an offer I can’t refuse.’
Beth ushered him in. ‘Come on, I’ve got a ton of leftovers. Be my taste tester.’
‘Best offer I’ve had all week.’
He stepped into the warmth. The kitchen smelt of pastry and rosemary. They sat at the prep table, sharing pie and chips. The silence between them was comfortable, companionable.
‘So,’ Beth said eventually, ‘how’s the cottage? Still got your guest?’
‘Yup,’ he said, grimacing. ‘Lisa’s fine. Just … not really fitting in. Or maybe I’m not.’
‘She didn’t strike me as the Cranley type. Or theyoutype.’
‘Understatement of the year.’
Beth smiled. ‘Are you getting back together?’
He shook his head. ‘She wants to. But she wants the version of me that doesn’t exist anymore.’
