Chapter 43

“What do you mean, She’s not coming back?” said Eddie.

“It’s really quite simple,” replied Adam as he stirred the contents of the saucepan. “She won’t be coming back to Westmouth. She’s staying in L.A. instead.”

“But I don’t understand,” said Cassie. She and Eddie were sitting at the kitchen table. “Why isn’t she coming back?”

“What’s not to understand? She’s staying in Hollywood where she’s going to earn enormous sums of money making movies and become a truly global A-list star. Given the choice between that and Westmouth, what would you do?”

“But we’re her friends,” said Cassie. “You’re her boyfriend!”

“Apparently not,” said Eddie. “I’ve got to admit, mate, you’re taking it really well.”

Adam stopped stirring and turned to face his friend. He arched his eyebrows. “Taking it well?”

“I mean ... You don’t seem all that upset. I thought you’d be all cut up about it. You know, locked in your room by yourself. Not standing here, cooking your tea like nothing’s happened.”

“Upset? You don’t think I’m all that upset. You haven’t got the first fucking clue, have you? You’ve got no fucking idea at all how I’m feeling. Look, just because I’m not crying my eyes out, drowning myself in ice cream or threatening to throw myself off Central Pier, doesn’t mean I’m not all that upset.” He took a deep, calming breath. “Truth is ... I’m devastated. I never thought it was possible, but that girl has become my whole world. Since October she’s been the first thing I’ve thought about in the morning and the last thing on my mind at night. She’s even been in all my dreams even though she was sleeping right there next to me.

“And now she’s gone and I don’t fucking well know what I’m going to do. If I think about it, if I let myself dwell on the fact that she’s now out of my life for good, I’ll wind up spiralling out of control. I can’t afford to spend every night crying into my pint. I can’t afford to lock myself in my room for hours on end. We’ve got exams in a few weeks, for Christ’s sake.” He put his hands on his head and pulled at his hair. “She’s gone. I knew it was coming. We all saw she was drifting away. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“So if you’re so upset, what are you going to do about it?” said Cassie.

“What can I do?”

“I don’t know. But you can’t just let her go.”

He threw his arms up. “And how am I supposed to stop her? She’s on the other side of the fucking world! Even if I flew to L.A., I’ve no idea where she’s staying. It’d be damn near impossible to find her.” He turned back to the saucepan and began stirring again. He spoke calmly. “There’s nothing I can do. She’s gone and I’ve just got to accept it. I’ve got an essay I need to hand in at the end of the week and it’s not going to write itself. So I’m going to finish preparing this sumptuous meal of haricot in tomato jus on grilled bread—”

“You mean beans on toast,” said Eddie.

“Yes. I’m going to eat this, drink a coke and then go finish my essay.”

But Adam didn’t finish his essay. He didn’t even start it. Instead, he lay on his bed and watched High School Hell on DVD. This was the film that first brought Chloë to his attention. She played a schoolgirl suffering at the hands of bullies. Her performance was remarkable for one so young—she was just fifteen when it was made. It had an unusually sad ending. Her character, Jasmine, killed herself. The final scene always left tears in Adam’s eyes.

After the film finished, he lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling. His thoughts were of nothing but Chloë.

About how he’d never again see the moonlight on her face as she slept, or watch the sunrise creep across her satisfied, sleepy smile. He’d never feel the softness of her skin on the tips of his fingers or taste the sweetness of her ruby lips. He’d never smell her arousal. Never feel her body crushed against his as they danced to a slow, sad song.

He’d never be infected by her joyous laugh or feel a protective urge wash over him when she was down.

He’d lost her.

Just after midnight, he cried himself to sleep.

“Fancy coming to watch the footy in The Union?” Eddie asked after lectures the next day.

Adam shook his head. “I’m going to the library to work on that essay.”

“I thought you said you were going to finish last night.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t.” He shrugged.

When he got to the library, without thinking he sat at the table he usually shared with Chloë. The very table he’d been sitting at when he first heard her crying on the other side of the bookshelf. He stared at the table, pen hovering over his pad, and in two hours wrote less than two hundred words. The target for the essay was five thousand.

During the tutorial on Friday, Dr Banks, who’d been informed of Chloë’s decision by her parents, took pity on Adam and offered him an extension to the essay deadline, allowing him to hand it in on Monday morning instead.

“You lucky bastard,” said Kim as they made their way to The Union for lunch. “I can’t believe she gave you that extension. She doesn’t normally. I guess she thinks...” She stopped talking and looked sheepishly at the floor.