Page 131 of How We Began

(10.30 p.m.)

Ben: It’s a late one. I’m going to stay at Dave’s. See you in the morning. Sorry. XX

Ugh! It’s not that late. It is half past ten. What does he mean ‘late one?’

It’s 79 days until he leaves for good. Not that I’m counting.

7th April

(6.00 a.m.)

Ben found me in my bed. “Why are you in your room and not mine?” he asked, his arms winding around me.

“Why are you here? It’s not dawn yet.”

“I missed you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he murmured against my ear. “Now, Lilah, we really need to talk about your sleeping apparel…”

I giggled as he slid his tracksuit pants down my legs and lifted his holey T-shirt up over my head.

(11.00 a.m.)

We went back to his room, which it seems has now become ‘our’ room.

“So what happened with the band?” I asked, watching his face carefully to make sure he wasn’t going to try and sugar coat anything for my benefit.

“Oh, we had an argument, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

I pushed up onto my elbows. “What about?” I asked, although I knew what it was about. Me. God, I’m going to be their Yoko.

“Lilah, it’s nothing to worry about. Just forget it.”

“The fact you say it’s nothing to worry about makes me think that it is.”

He nibbled my ear, thinking he’d distract me, but I know his ways.

“They questioned my commitment, so I got angry. It was nothing and not the first time it’s happened. Probably more than people would think. We’ve been on the verge of splitting up so many times the last couple of years.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “And if it hadn’t been for the offer of the record deal, maybe we would have called it a day.”

“But they were pissed off because you left the States to come home to me.”

“Yeah, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Delilah. I did what I needed to do, and it was me who lost my phone. I should have given you Liam’s number before we left, I just didn’t think about it.” His lips pressed into a line. “I’ve never left a girlfriend before, I guess I got it wrong.”

“It’s not about the phone, Ben. Your friends are freaking out that you might be about to fuck this up for them.”

“Lilah, I’ve given them ten years. Ten years of small gigs with sometimes only two people watching, ten years of being squeezed in a crap van while we went to those small gigs. I think they can allow me to have one minor blip, even if it is when we’re overseas.”

“I don’t know, Ben. I can understand why they’re mad.”

He was silent for a moment. “So can I, but as I said, I’d put you first again in a heartbeat.”

I really do think we might be in a doomed Jane Austen style romance. There isn’t much chance of a happy ending.