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hair; it was still damp, and so she was a different Flynn that night, one with soft, clean hair, and a body washed free of sand. She smelled of soap. I offered to make a mushroom omelette, but she said, ‘Are you hungry yet? Because I’m not.’ And we took each other to bed again. But this time we did sleep afterwards through sheer exhaustion, because of not having slept properly the night before.
    When I woke, the bedroom was dark and Flynn was not beside me. Light shone through from the living-room, and when I went out I found that she had dressed and was crouched broodingly on the sofa, her knees drawn up.
    â€˜Is anything the matter?’
    She looked up, and bit her lip. ‘No. I mean, I think I should get back to my own place now. Hannah and Caleb will be wondering where I’ve been, two nights in a row.’
    â€˜You can say you’ve been with me. I mean, they’re not your mother, are they?’ I think I must have given an uncomfortable laugh.
    â€˜Actually, Anna … what I need to do is to take some time to think about all this.’ She gestured with one hand.
    â€˜Think about it?’
    What was there to think about? I felt ill, at the thought that she might leave me.
    â€˜I mean, it’s all so new to me. I’m not sure that this is what I want.’
    But , I thought, you did want it. I could tell you did .
    And abruptly, in the middle of the night, Flynn left me. She kissed me coolly on the cheek and walked out the door, pulling it to, softly, and I couldn’t do a thing but sit and listen to her car start up and drive away.

Chapter Eight
    I CALLED IN sick and stayed home from work, sleeping all day beneath a sheet on the sofa. I couldn’t face going near my bed, afraid it would still smell of her .
    When I woke, the unopened tin of cat food on the table reminded me that Flynn and the grey cat had both deserted me. I shoved the can to the back of a cupboard, and went out.
    Determined not to be disconsolate, I bought a bag of black jellybeans and ate them while reading Notes From Underground , which I’d borrowed from the shop the day before.
    I am a sick man … I am an angry man. I am an unattractive man. I think there is something wrong with my liver.
    A voice in my head told me that Flynn’s departure at this point was understandable. Everything’s happened so fast – of course she needs time to think. In fact, I probably needed time to think.
    But a self-pitying, red-eyed bug with a brain the size of a grain of rice had set up home in my heart, and it mewed, but I love her! Doesn’t she love me? If she did, she wouldn’t have done that! She may never come back, and nobody else will love me ever!
    I went back to the jellybeans and the book.
    Underground Man has a bad liver but he won’t go to the doctor. I know better than anybody that I am harming nobody but myself. All the same, if I don’t have treatment it is out of spite. Is my liver out of order? – let it get worse!
    I heard a noise outside the door. Flynn! I got up to look. It was nobody. Not even the cat. I checked my phone to see if it was switched on. I checked fruitlessly for messages.
    I once used to work in the government service but I don’t now. I was a bad civil servant. I was rude, and I enjoyed being rude. After all, I didn’t take bribes, so I had to have some compensation. (A poor witticism; but I won’t cross it out …)
    I had only come to the end of page one.
    Flynn had touched this very book. She’d picked it up from the kitchen table the night before and asked, ‘What’s this like?’
    â€˜I don’t know – haven’t read it yet. But it’s pretty dark and disturbing, I imagine.’
    Flynn put it down. ‘Sometimes I get tired of dark and disturbing. I don’t want to be disturbed when I read, or when I watch a movie. I want to be happy.’
    But dark and disturbing songs were all