Текст книги "The House on Fever Street"

Автор книги: Celina Grace

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The House on Fever Street

 

Celina Grace

 

© Celina Grace 2012

For Chris, who always believes in me

Prologue

 

It began down in the tunnels. He was walking, coughing, half-blind; stumbling through the dark over the sleepers, the air a wall of heat and thick, choking dust. The muscles of his shoulder were aching from the drag of her weight on his arm. Even over the shuffle of their steps and the distant moans and screams of the people who had been in that carriage of the train, he could hear her breath sobbing in and out of her lungs. He coughed again; he couldn’t stop coughing, spitting blindly into the darkness. Once he stumbled and fell to his knees, cutting his hand on the protruding edge of a metal bolt. Above the flash of pain in his palm, he heard her panicked gasp as their hands were wrenched apart.

“It’s all right,” he said. ‘I just fell down. It’s all right.”

“It’s not.”

He heard the tremor of tears in her voice and groped for her in the darkness. She came to him silently and they held each other for a moment; she thrummed in his arms, her heartbeat a fast gallop beneath the soft swell of her breasts. Then one of the others behind them stumbled against them both and cursed and they let go of each other, reluctantly.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t let go of me, please.”

“I won’t.”

He tightened his grip on her hand. He was very frightened, trembling on legs that shook with the backwash of adrenaline. He kept walking. He held onto her like a lifeline, their palms slipping against one another’s and he thought this is punishment for what I’ve done. This is the start of it.

They came out into daylight and watery sunlight, walking into a frenzy of noise and confusion. Sirens chopping at the air, camera crews and police tape, someone shouting, a staring crowd rigid with tension. He turned to her and looked her in the face, for the first time. Her blue eyes were bloodshot. He cupped her dirty jaw with his dirty hands, his fingers smoked black with soot, but he didn’t kiss her, not then. For the first time since the explosion, he thought of the others. Were they trudging through purgatorial tunnels, far beneath the city? Or were they dead? He tightened his fingers against her face and looked again, into her eyes. Save me, he thought, and bent to put his blackened mouth against hers.

PART ONE

Chapter One

 

Bella lay awake. She put a hand up to her face, feeling the thin film of sweat overlaying her skin. Her eyelids fluttered and she dropped back into sleep for a second, just for a moment but then she was back there, in the tunnels, in the dream, in the dark. She heard herself moan a little and pressed her hand more firmly against her forehead, feeling the minute jerks of her fingertips as her hand shook. She concentrated on breathing in and out, staring up at the familiar cracks of her bedroom ceiling, glad of the sunshine coming through the window.

Gradually, her heart rate slowed. She blinked away the tears that had come back again, hot and unwelcome, and tried to breathe normally.

When her legs were steady enough, she got up, wrapped her dressing gown around her shoulders and fumbled her way downstairs. She paused in the kitchen doorway, one hand on the wall, and her mother, busy at the sink, looked up sharply.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. I’ll survive.”

She could feel her mother’s gaze intensify, and she looked away, down at her bare feet. Her toenails still bore the remnants of the pink polish that she’d applied on the very morning of the bombings. She remembered doing it; admiring her summer feet neat in her best high-heeled sandals, ready for her interview.

“Have you been crying?” said Mrs Hardwick.

“I’m okay.”

“Bella –“

“I’m fine.” She took a deep breath, swallowed. “Sorry. It’s just – I keep having bad dreams.”

She shuffled into the kitchen, belting her dressing gown more tightly about her waist. She’d lost weight; even in the short space of a week, she’d lost weight. Her mother was looking at her again, the same look she’d had ever since they’d left the hospital – anxiety, anguish and glorious relief all vying for precedence on her face.

“Nightmares? Well, that’s understandable.”

Mrs Hardwick reached for a tea towel and wiped off her hands with brisk efficiency. Something about the movement made Bella feel tired. She stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring dumbly across the room.

They sat down to breakfast in silence. Bella looked at the square slices of toast on her plate, veiled in melting yellow grease.

“Come on, eat something. You’ve not had a square meal since it happened.”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“Come on, love,” said her mother, in a softened tone. “You have to try and get on with things, you know. It’s no use giving in.”

Bella took a reluctant bite and jumped as, behind her, the phone rang suddenly. Mrs Hardwick answered it, spoke, frowned, turned to her daughter.

“It’s for you.”

Bella struggled with her mouthful of toast and managed to swallow it. She took the receiver from her mother.

“Hello,” she said.

“It’s Jake.”

For a split second, the bright, sun-filled kitchen darkened as, in her head, the explosion thundered once more. She gripped the receiver.

“Jake?”

“It’s me. From the – the tunnels.”

He’d kissed her in the street, the two of them locked together at the mouth, locked together at the hands. He’d looked like a boy then, a young smooth-faced boy, pale with fright under a black mask of soot. When their lips had parted, she’d begun to say something; she could no longer remember what. The paramedics had descended, rustling with foil blankets. There had been a chorus of soothing, no-nonsense voices. Bella and Jake were separated, gently prised apart by well-meaning hands. She’d felt the loss of his fingers, the sudden departure of his warmth, as if a part of her had been torn away.

And here he was, on the end of a phone line. Bella closed her eyes for a moment, listening to his breathing. He’d been, to this moment, someone almost mythical, a guardian angel who’d appeared in the murk of that tunnel to guide her to safety and light. She’d felt his warmth, felt the touch of his mouth against hers, all so physical and real – and then he was gone, pulled away from her. Leaving her in the tumult of the streets, leaving her to travel alone to the makeshift hospital. She hadn’t cried until she’d seen her mother’s face, pulled tight with anxiety.

He rescued me, she thought. And then he was gone. And now here he was, on the end of the phone, resurrected.

“How are you doing?”

Bella considered for a moment. How was she doing?

“I’m okay.” She felt shy with him, even though he couldn’t see her. She had to struggle to keep her voice at a normal conversational level, fought not to let it drop down to a silly little whisper.

“Are you having bad dreams?” said Jake. “I’m having awful dreams. Fucking horrible. My brother says it’s just my brain trying to make sense of bad memories. Whatever…. It’s awful. Are you sleeping badly?”

He was chatting to her so easily, as if they’d known each other for years. Bella felt herself begin to unbend, opening up under the spell of his easy talk. She was suddenly aware of her mother in the room, listening to every word. She shook her head at Mrs Hardwick’s lifted eyebrows. Her mother shrugged and moved away, out of earshot. Bella shifted the handset against her ear and turned away, pressing herself against the kitchen wall.

“Hello?”

“Sorry – I’m still here – it’s just – “

“It’s okay. It’s hard to talk about it. I know.”

The two of them were silent for a moment, listening to each other’s breathing.

“Are you still there?” said Jake. He suddenly sounded unsure of himself.

“I’m here. I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”

“Um – was it about sleeping?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I’m not too bad. I – it’s more that I can’t sleep. I go to sleep and then I wake up, for no reason, and then I can’t get back to sleep. I feel so tired all the time.”

“Must be hard for you at work.”

“I’m not working.” Bella shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I only left university this summer and I haven’t really got – I haven’t really thought about what I was going to do. That’s why I was in London that day, I had a job interview. That’s why I was on the train – I stayed at my Dad’s place so I could get the tube in the morning – my interview was in the West End and I didn’t want to be late, so I ran for that train – the train – and I almost didn’t make it, the doors nearly shut on me, but I did get on and I thought wow, just about made that in time, and then we were just going into the tunnel…”

She tripped over herself; the words were coming too fast for her to speak properly. She’d not talked about that day with anyone, not really, not even her mother. But she could talk to Jake. It was as he was tugging speech out of her, each word emerging like a knotted rope of coloured silk handkerchiefs flourished by a magician. She stopped eventually, more breathless than her speech had warranted.

There was a long moment of silence between them, long enough for Bella’s comfort. She was suddenly afraid she’d said too much, and spoken too wildly. The handset slipped a little in her damp palm. Then, after another beat of silence, she heard Jake’s intake of breath at the end of the line.

“We should meet,” he said.

“Meet?” she said, stupidly.

“Would you like to? I mean – only if you want to.” Again, he suddenly sounded unsure of himself and that gave her the courage to answer.

“No! I mean, no, I’d love to. I want – there’s – it’s hard to say everything that I want to say on the phone.”

He chuckled and she smiled at the sound, relieved.

“There’s so much I want to say to you. I thought you might think I was a complete nutter ringing you up out of the blue. I bet you don’t even remember giving me your home number.”

Bella groped through the fog of memories. Had she given him her number? She must have. She took a deep breath. “Where shall I meet you?”

Jake hesitated.

“Could you – could you bear to come to London?” He began to rush his words, much as Bella had done before. “I’ll understand – I’ll completely understand if you don’t. I could understand if you never wanted to set foot in the fucking place ever again. But if you don’t mind –”

She did mind. She minded terribly. For a moment, she couldn’t answer. Could she bear it, being there again? She was so scared of London, terrified of the capital. She tried to imagine being on a train again, thought about being underground. No, she couldn’t go underground. She couldn’t go anywhere near a tube tunnel. Her pulse thumped in her ears. She would be so scared… but she longed to meet him again, this rescuer, this stranger, her mysterious tunnel vision…

“I don’t mind,” she said, surprising herself with the firmness of her voice.

“Oh, that’s great. That’s fantastic.”

She interrupted him. “It’s just –“Her voice failed her for a second. “As long – as long as – can we meet somewhere where I don’t have to take the tube?”

He actually laughed. “Of course! God – of course. Of course we can, Bella.”

There was the usual tangle of suggestions, retractions and final confirmation. A little pub near Waterloo, so she could take the overland train – near enough to walk from the station, said Jake, and quiet enough to talk properly. Bella fumbled for a pen to write down his directions.

“So I’ll see you on Saturday, then,” said Jake. He began to say something else but stopped himself. Then he said, with an oddly fervent tone, “I’m really looking forward to seeing you again, Bella. See you then. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” said Bella, shakily. Her mouth suddenly felt coated in acrid underground dust. She swallowed and said goodbye again, more firmly.

“See you then, Jake.”

She put the phone down and leant against the wall.

For the rest of the week, she thought mainly of two things – the bombing and Jake. Saturday, three o’clock. Saturday, three o’clock. She went through her wardrobe, looking for the right thing to wear, a piece of armour that would take her to London and back unscathed. The idea of getting on a train again, even an overland train, made her hands shake and her breath come short and fast. But yet, she had to. It was either that or spend the rest of her life cooped up here, safe behind the walls of her mother’s house.

There were other, smaller anxieties. How would she recognise Jake? Even when they’d emerged into daylight, she’d been half blinded by dust and smoke. His face had been blackened by soot and before that, she’d only glimpsed him as a dark shape in a darker tunnel. She didn’t even know his last name. She wondered about looking up newspaper reports of the bombings to see if she could find out, but couldn’t bear to read them. What if she couldn’t find the pub, or was late and he didn’t wait for her? What if he didn’t turn up at all?

Then there was the actual meeting. Bella was horribly afraid she would burst into tears on seeing him. Would she scream, faint, wet herself? There were too many what-ifs. The thoughts chased themselves around in her head, stuck in an endless merry-go-round; she shouldn’t go – she should go – she shouldn’t go – she should.  At night, in her dreams, she walked the tunnels of the Underground, wandering lost and scared through an endless black maze, dragging herself back to consciousness in a fever of sweat. She tried to eat the meals her mother placed in front of her, pushing the food around the plate with a fork, chewing and swallowing past the tension in her throat. The days ticked relentlessly away and quite suddenly it was Saturday and she was sat in a near-empty carriage, on a train bound for Waterloo.

Being on a train again wasn’t quite as bad as being on the tube would have been, but it was still pretty bad. She sat rigidly by the window, staring out at the fields flashing past, the gradual encroachment of bricks and mortar as the train drew nearer London. I’m being brave, she told herself, trying to find some comfort in the thought. Soon, she could see the giant arch of the London Eye and felt the train begin to slow, shuddering its way into the station. Immediately, the tension inside her screwed a notch tighter. Bella felt sick. She fumbled for her bag with shaking hands and stepped onto the concourse on legs that felt as if they were made of rubber. She walked stiffly through the tumult of the station, flinching at the loudspeaker announcements, hardly breathing.

Walking calmed her somewhat and being out in the open air was better. She stiffened at the sight of the first red bus she saw, remembering the footage of the bombed Number 30, the roof peeled back like the lid of a giant sardine can, seating ripped apart as if by enormous, careless hands. She found the pub, tucked away on a little back street, just as Jake had said. As she approached the entrance, she made herself breathe slowly and deeply. She put her hand to the handle of the saloon door and pushed.

She saw him immediately and recognised him straight away. The sight of him, sat up by the bar opposite the door, caused such a wave of feeling to crash over her that she heard herself give an audible gasp. She staggered forward, crumpling at the waist like someone shot in the stomach.

Jake reached her in half a second. She felt one warm hand under her arm, the comforting muscular bulk of him beside her. She felt herself lifted and propped. She gripped the edge of the bar with one hand, put her head down and breathed deeply.

“Okay?”

He was better looking than she remembered, his eyes darker, his hair longer. Bella looked up at him, trying to control her breathing. His eyes were red-rimmed. His face is clean though, she thought confusedly and then she slipped off the stool and they fell into each other’s arms, quite naturally. She kept her face against his chest. His arms were tight around her and she felt the tension and sickness she’d carried around with her for the last three weeks fall away.

They held each other for a long moment and then, simultaneously, released their grip. Bella realised she was dangerously near to crying and tried to stretch her eyes wide to stop the drops from falling.

“Are you okay?”

Her ‘yes’ squeaked out and he reached out and put a steadying hand on her arm.

“You’re not okay, you look like you’re about to drop. Here – “

Bella was tucked back onto the bar stool; lifted and set down before she realised what was happening. She gripped the cool edge of the bar, steadying herself. She was too churned up to blush properly but she could feel the heat struggling to surface in her face.

“I’m okay.” She said it again to convince Jake, and herself. “I’m okay. Really, I am. I just had – had a – “

“A wobbly moment?”

She looked quickly at him to see if he was laughing at her. He had a smile on his face but his eyes were kind.

“Don’t worry, Bella.”

She liked the way he said her name. Jake, she thought. His name is Jake.

“We’re both having wobbly moments lately. Believe me, the whole of London is having a two week long, wobbly moment. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She smiled weakly, feeling a little better.

“Now, can I get you a drink?”

Bella nodded fervently.

“Gin and tonic, please.”

He turned away from her slightly as he gave the order and she studied his profile, covertly. His nose was prominent but matched by a masculine jaw, now faintly smudged with shadow. His hair was thick and fell in a heedless black tangle over his eyes. He was obviously older than her. How much older? The height of him, the breadth of his shoulders, his stubble, the almost invisible creases at the edge of his eyes… Not a smooth-faced boy, after all. She felt breathless again but this time it was nothing to do with fear.

Jake paid for the drinks and folded his battered leather wallet back into his pocket. Bella took the one that he offered her, feeling the cold slippery glass against her fingertips.

“Tell you what, let’s move somewhere more comfortable. You look as if you’re about to fall off that stool.”

Bella laughed but felt embarrassed. She was over the first shaky hurdle but she couldn’t relax, not yet. The ice cubes in her drink chinked against each other as she followed Jake through to the back of the pub. There was a tiny, walled garden at the back, and miraculously, an empty table by the far wall. They sat down opposite each other, smiling across the unsteady table.

“Is the sun in your eyes?”

“No – well, a bit, but –“

“Here, let’s move round a bit – “

“I’ve got some shades – “

They talked over one another, realised simultaneously what they were doing and both laughed. Bella felt a little easier now, her legs steadier beneath her. She looked at him, squinting a little in the bright sunlight and realised again how good looking he was. She lifted the glass to her mouth to cover her sudden intake of breath.

When they were finally settled, there was a moment of silence that threatened to become awkward. Bella cast around frantically for something to say. She was just about to come up with something fatuous about the weather when Jake spoke.

“How are you sleeping?”

The question was so unexpected that for a moment she just gaped at him. Then she tried to answer.

“Well, I – not very well – I mean, it’s not always easy –“

He interrupted her.

“I can’t sleep. I don’t think I’ve been able to sleep properly since it happened.”

For a moment, his face darkened. He looked suddenly forbidding, his dark brows lowered, his shadowed jaw suddenly set. Bella swallowed and tried to think of an answer but he went on.

“I have terrible dreams. They’re the worst – they’re the worst dreams I think I’ve ever had. Or if not ever, then certainly since – “

He stopped talking and lifted his glass to his mouth abruptly.

Bella licked her lips to try and get them to part.

“I have bad dreams too. I don’t dream about the explosion but I dream about the tunnels. I constantly dream that I’m back in the tunnels, walking through the dark.”

He looked at her intently. It was almost as if he was seeing her, really seeing her, for the first time.

“I thought it was just me. Those endless black tunnels, and the dust and the heat and smoke, stumbling over everything, waiting for the next explosion…”

“Yes.”

They looked at each sombrely and then Jake smiled.

“I’m glad to see you. I feel better talking to you, I feel better already.”

“Me too.”

There was another moment of silence but this time, Bella felt no awkwardness. The gin and the sun began to spread a delicious warmth through her body and she relaxed back into the hard slats of the chair. She could hear a pigeon cooing faintly over the noise of the traffic beyond the garden wall.

“Want another drink?”

Jake tipped his glass at her in enquiry. She smiled and reached for her bag.

“Let me get this one.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased. Walking away from him and the bright, sunlight garden, back into the dimness of the pub, she was momentarily blinded. Bella slowed her walk, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. As she stood at the bar, she was very aware of her legs, trembling slightly beneath her. The alcohol and the heat, the fear and the anticipation were making her giddy. She lifted the fresh, cold glasses and made her way back outside, running through the conversation that they’d just had, thinking back on what she’d said.

“So what do you do?”

She snorted at the question, it sounded so grown-up; as if they were at a dinner party. It was about three drinks later, and they’d moved their seats twice, keeping out of the sun. Bella’s face felt flushed but whether that was the heat, the gin or Jake’s presence across the table she was yet to ascertain.

“What do I do?”

“Yeah.” He was grinning. “What do you do?”

Bella giggled. “Well, nothing really, at the moment. I’m a lily of the field. Or is a rose? Anyway, I neither toil nor spin – or whatever it is that lilies do. Or don’t do.”

“What?”

She paused, momentarily embarrassed.

“I’m looking for work, actually. I just finished uni this summer.” She hesitated at the student slang but Jake seemed not to notice. He was looking at her again with focused intensity, black brows drawn down in a frown of concentration. Nervousness made her stutter.

“That’s what – I mean, that’s why I was in London. On the seventh. I had an interview in the West End, an admin role at a big media company. Oh, I’ve already told you that. But that’s why I was in London, that’s why I was on the tube in the first place. I mean, I never should have been there in any case but I’d just got a call from the agency the day before and I thought, great, finally, something I might actually be able to do, you know, with a useless arts degree, and I was so fed up of being back home again, having no freedom after having so much, so I just said yes and the next day I took the train up to London and I got on the tube, I was running late so I ran for it and I didn’t think I would make it, but I did…”

She trailed off and reached for her drink. Her hand was shaking a little. Where had that torrent of words come from? Jake reached forward suddenly and took her hand. The shock of it, his palm against hers, made her flinch.

“It’s alright.”

“Yes, sorry – “

She fumbled for a tissue in her bag with her free hand. She wondered if he could feel the slight tremor in the fingers he was gripping. His hand was warm, the palm slightly damp. The silver ring he wore on his left index finger pressed hard against the bones of her hand.

Bella took a deep breath.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, you idiot.”

Bella tried to speak normally.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Why were you there? Why were you on the tube? I suppose you were going to work…”

Jake let go of her hand and it dropped to the table, hitting her empty glass with a dull chime. He didn’t seem to notice. That darkened look lowered his brows again.

“I was going to meet my brother,” he said slowly. It sounded as though the words were coming to him one by one, each one weighed in a moment of contemplation before being spoken. The words hung in the air between them, oddly like a code. Bella raised her eyebrows enquiringly. There was a moment’s silence.

“My brother,” Jake repeated. He was looking at the table, his gaze suddenly blank. Bella made what she hoped was an encouraging ‘hmm’ sound. He stared at nothing for another moment and then raised his eyes to hers, forcing what looked like a rather reluctant smile.

“Yes, my brother,” he said for the third time. “He’s my older brother – Carl, his name’s Carl. We were going to have a coffee and – and talk about a few things. A few house issues.”

“House issues?”

Jake sat up slightly straighter. The sun was behind his shoulder now, making Bella squint a little to make out his expression. “Yes, we live together, didn’t I say? We’ve lived together for a few years now. We’ve got this big old house in Highgate. Actually, that makes it sound a bit better than it actually is. It’s not technically Highgate, it’s Archway. It’s big though. God, sorry, that sounds really boastful.”

Bella shook her head. “Is it just the two of you then?”

His head moved slightly, silhouetted against the glare of the sun.

“No, there’s V – she’s my brother’s girlfriend. Veronica.”

He closed his mouth abruptly over the last ‘ah’ of the word. Bella was left with the impression that he wanted to say more. Why didn’t he? She realised she didn’t yet know him well enough to ask.

From the easiness of their first hour of conversation, they now seemed in danger of sinking into a quagmire of awkward pauses. Bella was suddenly aware of how busy the garden had become. They’d been so absorbed with each other that each had failed to notice the gradually thickening crowd that was even now encroaching on their tiny table. As if reading her mind, Jake shook himself and looked around at the tumult about them.

“Shit, it’s getting busy in here. I didn’t notice.”

Bella smiled nervously. “Neither did I. I wonder what the time is?”

“I know what time it is.”

Jake smiled slowly, his dark eyes on hers. Bella felt a quick pulse of excitement as he held her gaze and felt suddenly very young and very breathless once more.

“I know exactly what time it is,” he said. “It’s time for another drink.”

*

"You should come back to Fever Street," he said.

"Now?"

It was late and they were both drunk. The air was cooling very slowly, the sun having recently set in a blaze of flamingo pink and lurid orange. London hummed around them, dusty and rank and pulsing with noise.

"Yes, now. Come and see my house. I want you to see it."

Bella grinned. She thought fuzzily of train times and getting back to the station. There was a fleeting pang of guilt at the thought of her mother, home alone and waiting for her return. But just as quickly, a recklessness took hold of her. She felt ready for anything. Partly it was the booze but mostly it was Jake, with his sleepy grin and mobile black brows, his smudge of six o'clock shadow and broad shoulders. For the first time, she felt a strong lusty pull towards him, a plucking sensation deep down in the belly, as if gentle fingers were tickling her there.

She rang her mother and told her she’d missed her last train and would stay at her father’s house, managing not to wince at the lie. Jake stood a little apart from her as she talked and she appreciated his tact. They headed towards the tube station, jostled by the early evening crowd that thronged the pavement. Jake took hold of her hand. Jolted, she realised why the touch of his fingers felt so familiar. They'd held hands down in the tunnels. In the same moment, it registered with Bella that they were walking towards the underground, they were almost at the gaping mouth of the station entrance and she jerked away, almost unconsciously. Their hands parted and she came to a standstill, beginning to shake.

It was uncanny, how he knew. He realised what she was thinking, he didn't even have to ask. Jake put his hands on her shoulders and she could feel the muscles of her arms shuddering under his palms, she couldn't stop herself.

"We'll get a cab, okay?" he said quietly.

Bella nodded, not trusting herself to speak. It was amazing, the shivering – it was if someone else was controlling her body. Jake waved down a cab, opened the door, handed her inside. She let herself fall back on the seat upholstery, clasping both hands in front of her, trying to stop shaking.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes -”

It was a lie but as soon as she said it she began to feel better. Jake sat beside her, the length of his thigh warm against her own. He took hold of her hand again.

"I'm fine, really -”

Bella breathed deeply. She was fine, she did feel better.

"It was the tube, I can't go on the tube. I know I should, I know I should just bite the bullet and get back on the horse, whatever the phrase is. But I – I can't. Yet. I can't yet. I will one day."

"It's okay, Bella. You don't have to justify anything to me. You don't have to explain anything. If anything, I'm – "

He was looking out of the window as he was saying this and she didn't catch the last part of the sentence. It sounded like I'm the one who has to justify myself, but was it? Bella considered asking again for a moment and then pushed the thought away. It didn't matter.

The streets were busy and the taxi moved slowly, jolting occasionally over speed bumps and coming to a juddering halt at road junctions. Once, stationary at a red light, someone slapped the boot whilst passing behind them, shouting with laughter, and Bella flinched. She felt skinned, her nerve endings exposed to the night air. Jake looked at her and she tried hard to smile back reassuringly.

They didn’t talk at all during the journey but Bella didn’t feel shy or embarrassed. They were deep into North London now, and she felt a momentary qualm. She had no idea where they were or how to get back to Waterloo. Realising this, she surrendered to the feeling, relaxing back into the seat. It was too late to do anything. If Jake was a mass murderer… well, she’d been through enough this year. She could handle it. Bella giggled to herself inwardly, rising into flippancy, buoyed by the alcohol.