Page 50 of Plot Twist

‘It’ll all work out, Becca,’ he said, his face turning serious again. ‘Honestly. We’ll fix this.’

We. We’d become a we, all of a sudden. A team.

Riley looked straight into my red, teary eyes, our faces just inches apart. I held my breath. He cleared his throat and stood up, shaking his head as though trying to erase a spell I’d cast over him. He’d felt it too; I was sure he had. The feeling that there was more to this, more to us, than a friendship.

‘We’d better get writing then,’ he said, lifting his hand. ‘If you’ve fucking quit your job, we’d better fucking write our fucking books. It’s the only way out.’

I complied with his high five, having been placed firmly back in the friend zone.

20

The next morning, I felt like I’d been hit by an almighty truck.

Joanna texted to apologise. Apparently, she’d told another colleague in the staff room that I was in Ireland and Mrs Pender overheard the conversation. Adam and I had texted through the night, sharing more memories of Rae. Real life was coming back to bite me.

I started questioning my drunken escape plan. I was running away from a life I couldn’t face: Rae’s death and the bombshell that she and Drew had been a couple. I’d put my career at risk because of it. I hadn’t been thinking straight and now I was backed into a corner. How could I go back to face it all? But how could I not?

My whole body felt heavy. Even moving to the bathroom and back felt like a monumental effort.

Guilt rattled around my body. Rae’s death was my fault. I shouldn’t have encouraged her to come to meet me that evening. Why couldn’t I just have stuck with the original plan? Then she’d still be here.

Now, I’d acquired a new set of problems and feelings. I had promised to help Riley finish his novel, but he was still struggling and the thought of him and Ivy losing Bellinder Cottage weighed heavily on my mind. Why did I have to jump into everything feet first? I was clearly going to end up covered in mud again.

I heard Riley return from dropping Ivy at nursery as I pulled my duvet back over my head. For the first time since arriving, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to see anyone. I couldn’t face it. Every single interaction seemed to open up a whole new problem.

He knocked lightly on the door.

‘Becca?’

I didn’t reply.

‘Can I come in?’

I realised I didn’t have my own space here and suddenly I craved my own flat, my own bed.

‘It’s your house,’ I mumbled.

He nudged the door open.

‘What do you mean “it’s my house”?’ Riley asked, standing in the doorway.

I didn’t move from under the covers.

‘Becca, can you speak to me?’

I moved the duvet from over my head, revealing my make-up-free, tear-stained face.

‘I’ve fucked everything up,’ I said.

I let out a huge sigh.

Riley left the room without a word and came back moments later with my jacket and trainers.

‘Get dressed,’ he said. ‘I want to show you something.’

The walk was steeper than I’d imagined. I skipped cautiously past the rams roaming around the fields and dodged the large and small piles of poo they’d left scattered all over the grass. We climbed up the rocks and stopped every so often for breath, turning to capture the view over Rathcliffe. I kept one eye on Bellinder Cottage as it faded into the distance the higher we climbed. Rain drizzled lightly above us and I pulled my rain jacket closer to my body.

Riley navigated his way up the mountain with ease, turning around every so often to point out Bellinder Cottage in the distance or offer up an interesting fact. He didn’t seem to require any answers, so I largely kept quiet.