Page 84 of Counting Down To You

Chapter

26

I arrive into London in the early hours of the morning, carrying my one sad overnight bag through passport control at Heathrow airport. My head hurts from unshed tears, and I feel bone tired, like I haven’t slept properly for days, even though it’s only been a few hours.

I switch my phone on, bring up Lucie’s number and type out a quick message, straight to the point.

I need you to fill in for me as GRM. I’m back in England.

Then I open up my WhatsApp chat with Leo, where there are a stream of messages waiting for me.

Where did you go?

Ali where are you? I’m at the hotel.

Please can we talk?

The last one: Please just tell me you’re okay.

I take a deep breath. I don’t want to reply, to deal with it. But I can’t just ignore him.

I’m okay, I type. I’m not, but I know what he means. I’ve gone back to London. I’ll figure out how to pick up my stuff from the cabin later. I’ve asked Lucie to fill in as GRM—she’ll be better than me at it, anyway. I try to think of how to round it off. What the final thing I want to say to him is. In the end I settle with, You should have told me.

As I send it, a reply pops up from Lucie.

What’s happened? Is everything okay?

I hesitate. I can’t explain it, because Lucie never knew about Robyn. For all my talk about being friends, I didn’t let Lucie in, not really. Because, on some level, it felt too hard to do that with another person after losing Robyn.

I opt for a version of events that will make sense to Lucie:

Leo and I broke up.

Oh mate. I’m so sorry. Where are you? Can I call?

It brings a lump to my throat. It’s a fragile friendship, but it’s the start of something real. And now I’m unlikely to keep hold of it.

I’m at the airport, I type back. I’ll check in later, promise. Please, please do not let them give the GRM to anyone else but you.

I know I have other things to think about in the near future too. Like what to tell Stuart, if I’m not going to be there for New Year’s. But I’ll figure that out later. Because right now, as I head into arrivals, I realize I have no idea where to go from here. I really, really do not want to go back to my flat, go back to tiptoeing around.

So I send one more message, this time to my mum.

I’m back in the UK. It’s a long story. But is it okay if I come stay with you for a few nights?

Mum doesn’t ask. Perhaps she knows me well enough to know that I’ll need time to figure out how to talk about it, even if she has no idea what the “it” is. Instead, I get the reply I need.

Of course. We’d love to have you for however long you like. Xxx

I swing by my flat to pick up some things, given I have nothing with me but my overnight bag. Thankfully, I manage to avoid my flatmate, and head straight to the station to start my journey to Kent. When I finally get to my mum’s house, it’s the afternoon.

Mum answers almost instantly when I knock, like she’s been waiting this whole time. Her hair—dyed nearly the same color blond as mine—is hanging in a neat bob, and she’s wearing a big blue jumper that I got her for Christmas a couple of years ago.

I work up the best smile I can. “Hey, Mum.”

She gives me an assessing look, the kind that makes it clear she knows something is wrong. Still, she doesn’t ask. Instead, she ushers me inside, then hugs me. “It’s so lovely to see you, Al.”

And that’s it. That’s all it takes for me to start crying. Big, ugly sobs that wrack through my body, leaving no part of me untouched.