‘Rupert!’ I hiss his name, turning to the bed, ‘Rupert, wake up!’
Rupert rolls over, mumbling under his breath.
‘Rupert, wake up, please! There’s someone outside, they’re watching the house!’
Remembering the face I saw at the bottom of the garden a few weeks ago, my hands start to shake, and I turn back to the window with my heart in my throat, only to see that the street is empty. There is no one there.
Creeping into the flat, I jump as Tiny rockets out of the kitchen, snarling and yapping. So much for sneaking back home without waking Mags up. I was hoping that it was early enough on a Sunday morning for me to sneak in, grab a quick shower again and creep back out before she got up, but not anymore. Not now Tiny is awake.
Despite a sleepless night, the faceless figure outside the house appearing in my dreams every time I managed to drop off, I feel remarkably chipper. Rupert thinks perhaps I either imagined the person outside – being half asleep and having Harry on my mind – or it was just someone waiting for a lift or something outside the house. Either way, my bike was still there, and even though I am tired, there was something magical about last night, about staying the whole night right through, sleeping in the space in Rupert’s bed that Caro used to occupy. I thought things might be awkward this morning when we woke, but it wasn’t at all. It was like it was meant to be. Only now, I have to face Mags, and any trace of my magical night with Rupert is washed away by her appearance in the doorway to her bedroom.
‘You came home then.’ Her voice is flat, and she looks exhausted, her orange hair stuck up on one side. She’s wearing my T-shirt, the old Happy Mondays one I got from a charity shop, but judging by the look on her face now isn’t the time to mention it.
‘Sorry.’ I pull an apologetic face and wrinkle my nose, while trying to calculate whether I have time to wash my hair before it’s time to meet Rupert back at his house.
‘I bet,’ Mags sniffs. ‘Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been about you?’
‘Worried? Why would you be worried? I thought you knew where I would be.’ Mags is acting like my mother, not my flatmate, and I feel a flicker of uncertainty as I try and offer up a smile. ‘I didn’t think you’d even notice if I wasn’t home.’
‘Of course, I would notice. You’ve been home after midnight practically every night for the past few weeks – I can’t sleep until I know you’re home. You didn’t even bother to let me know you weren’t coming back, you didn’t respond to any of the text messages I sent you.’
I pull my phone out, to see six missed calls and seventeen text messages, all from Mags. Seventeen. ‘Jesus, Mags. How many texts? My phone died, OK? I gave it a quick blast this morning before I left – in fact, I need to put it on charge now.’ After last night, this is too much. I push past her and head for the sanctuary of my own bedroom.
‘Harry threatened to kill you, Emily! Ever since you’ve lived here you’ve been terrified of him tracking you down – what was I supposed to think? I thought he’d found you, hurt you! You can’t just not reply to my texts and expect me to not be concerned…’ Mags follows, Tiny circling her feet in an attempt to remind her to feed her. ‘Don’t get cross, I was just worried, that’s all. I’ve hardly seen you recently.’
I pause in pulling my T-shirt over my head. I’ve been so used to being on my own, looking after myself since Mum did a runner with her latest husband, that it didn’t occur to me that Mags would be concerned. And she does have a point – I have hardly seen her lately, but that’s only because I’ve been trying to avoid a lecture. Immediately I feel like a bitch. ‘I’m sorry, Mags, I didn’t think. I’m fine. I promise. I’m actually really happy.’ I sit on the bed in my underwear as Mags leans against the doorframe, a frown on her face.
‘So, you are seeing this Rupert then?’
‘It looks like it.’ I can’t stop the huge grin that spreads across my face. ‘He’s amazing, Mags, honestly, he’s kind, he’s funny… he treats me like I’m special, you know?’
‘I’m sure Harry did in the beginning too.’ Mags’s tone is sour.
‘What? What’s that supposed to mean?’ I tug the hair bobble from my ponytail and throw it onto the bedside table.
‘Nothing. Just… you’re rushing into things a bit, aren’t you? This was supposed to be a job, you said. A chance to “get yourself back on your feet”.’ She makes quote marks in the air with her fingers. ‘What if it all goes wrong? You’ll be back to square one.’
‘I thought you’d be pleased by that,’ I snap, grabbing my towel and heading for the door, before Mags steps in front of it.
‘Don’t be like
