Page 17 of The Next Chapter

Because I have to do something. It’s like when you wear ankle socks with boots, and they roll down your feet and get all annoying. From the outside everything looks fine, but you know that it isn’t. You know that it’s a bit of a mess in there and you just want to do whatever you can to reach down and fix it. That’s how I feel. This trip is me reaching into my boot and pulling my sock up. Or something like that.

‘If you’re sure? You know I’m grateful that you’re trying to help.’

‘I am. Let me get the rest of my stuff. It’s in the spare room.’

Seb eyes the little suitcase by my bed. Objectively, I know that on its own it looks like a reasonable amount of luggage to take on a weekend mini-break. But I figure that this weekend is already going to be stressful enough, let alone trying to sleep on an unfamiliar pillow without my lavender diffuser and the white noise machine that I need set to volume seven if I have any chance of it not taking me three hours to nod off.

Plus, there’s my products, because my skin goes blotchy unless I follow a meticulous five-step routine, my curling wand and my Frizzease, for obvious reasons.

Okay, it is a lot of stuff. I just want to be prepared.

Seb is back in the kitchen, waiting as I pile all my things at his feet.

I dump a third bag of stuff by my suitcase. It has my workout clothes in. Then I move to the top of the kitchen cupboards and start methodically filling the cool bag. I can feel Seb’s eyes on me as I take it to the fridge, enjoying the blast of cold air as I pull out my probiotics. Lola’s place looks pretty – read very – remote, and I don’t know how readily available they’ll be in the hotel shop – which I know she has because there is nothing I don’t know about the hotel Lola owns and runs. I still just cannot picture Lola there. And that unsettles me, makes me think that I’m in for some sort of a surprise.

I hate surprises.

I’m the sort of person who reads the last page of a book before I start it, and I Google the endings to TV series before I watch them. That’s how much I dislike the unknown.

At least I know that how I’m acting is insane behaviour, that’s a really important point. It’s only really weird if you think you’re normal.

I already have my vitamins in the bag as I zip it up. They’re the gummy ones because for about a year I’ve been feeding them to Seb on the down-low, pretending that they’re sweets. I keep my back to him now so that he doesn’t cotton on to my devious but motivated out of concern for his B12 levels plan.

Finally, I double check my rucksack for my water bottle, suncream, sunglasses, purse and phone, and make us some drinks for the car. The only thing left to do is say goodbye to Elton.

‘Ready,’ I tell Seb.

‘Are you sure? We could dismantle the actual house and take that with us, if you like?’

I finally zip up my rucksack, giving Seb the finger as I do. It feels good.

Elton resists my attempts to give him a fond farewell in the hallway, leaving me with a shiny new scratch on my forearm for my efforts.

‘And you’ll remember his special food and his eyedrops? They’re in the fridge.’ I harass the eighty-year-old Mr Cains on the street outside the house, handing over the key. ‘And if it gets over thirty-five degrees, move the window plants out of the sun or they’ll overheat. The thermometer’s by the back door.’

Mr Cains is dressed in a worn suit. He’s a retired accountant who discovered magic when his wife died. This fact makes me feel a lot better about my own poor attempts to cope with my grief. I know that Mr Cains is going to want me to pull the handkerchief out of his pocket before we leave, it’s something he got Dad to do all the time, too.

‘Don’t you worry about it, Lily. Me and Elton will have a whale of a time.’

It’s probably best not to reply that I don’t want Elton to have a whale of a time. I want him to have a nice, quiet, life-preserving time. But Seb is closing the boot of his car and declaring that we need to get going.

‘Okay, thank you,’ I tell Mr Cains. ‘I really appreciate it.’

‘You go and have a nice break, Lily. You deserve it. But before you go, would you like a hanky?’

I gasp in mock surprise as the handkerchief gets longer and longer.

‘Well, look at that!?’ I declare to Seb.

‘Fantastic, truly.’

I’m still pretend laughing as I climb into the passenger side door.

Finally, we’re ready. I’m going to see Lola.

Suddenly, I’m not laughing anymore.

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