Page 30 of The Last Kiss

Swiftly I add:

Go to Wales, Scotland, and Ireland (Don’t worry too much about Ireland).

Get kissed at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

(Damn, there he is back in my head again. Mr Dazzling Dick.)

Go in a Hot Air Balloon.

Have a McDonalds for three meals in one day.

Drink a bottle of the most expensive champagne.

Swim with Dolphins (okay this one is cliché and I can probably let it go, but now I can’t cross it out because it will look like I’ve done it. NOTE TO SELF – DON’T WORRY ABOUT THIS ONE.

And that’s it. That’s all I have.

Throwing the diary on the floor, I roll over on the sofa and pull the throw resting along the back over me. Barney opens an eye. He loves the blanket a little too much.

Reaching for my phone I fire off a text.

Me: Sorry, Rebecca, not feeling good. Going to take the day off sick.

The dancing dots beneath my message flicker to life.

Rebecca: Okay, darling. See you tomorrow?

I can’t even face a response, so I send a thumbs up and then drop my phone to the floor.

Then I pull the duvet back up over my head and wait.

What I’m waiting for I don’t want to contemplate.

* * *

“Don’t you make me kick down this door!”

I sit up, trying to work out where the fuck I am.

Ah. Lounge.

Hammering lands against the front door.

“I mean it, Jules. I’ve battled the whole way down here with a buggy. Do you know what the Tube is like with a buggy? Hell, I tell you.” The letterbox jangles. “Hell,” Liv shouts through.

Trying to focus, I can’t believe I’ve fallen asleep after only being awake for the sum total of half an hour. I stand up on unsteady legs and stagger for the front door.

“Use your key,” I shout back.

“I tried; you’ve got the damn chain on.”

She’s right, I do. And who can blame me.

“Liv,” I sigh and open the door. “What are you doing here?”

She’s swinging Lenny in a car seat that unclips from the buggy base, and unwittingly bashes him into the door frame. “I called the office to see if you wanted lunch and they said you weren’t there. That you’re sick.” She assesses me with a laser beam top-to-toe body sweep. “What’s wrong? Have you taken your medication?

“Why didn’t you call me?” Ah, shit. Medication…