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she absent-mindedly turned to thank him for the massage. That’s when it all clicked into place and she remembered: No, Danny is not really here. Danny died six months ago. And maybe it is a part of him that’s here rubbing your neck – but even if it is, you can’t have a conversation with him and you can’t grab him and you can’t pull him to you.
    Once again, Juliette wanted to burst into tears as the devastation of the truth hit her. But as she closed the book and turned out her bedside lamp, ready to curl up on her side and sob herself to sleep – she realised something. He hadn’t vanished this time. Instead, the sense that his hands were still on her skin felt more real than ever. Carefully, she lay down on her back and closed her eyes, offering him the opportunity to continue caressing her skin. Slowly, gently, his touch became more sensual, his hands sliding down her arms, over her hips, gliding up her stomach, circling her breasts. In the darkness, her heart thumped in her chest and her breath quickened.
    ‘I love you Danny,’ she whispered into the dark, empty room, and in response she felt his touch on her face, as though his thumb was gently stroking her cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall again without her even realising it.

Chapter Seven

    Juliette was on her knees in front of the liquor cabinet. It was dusk and a pink-orange glow had settled on the apartment. Today had been long, hot and confusing. When she had woken that morning the heat was the first thing that had struck her. When she looked across at her bedside clock and saw that it was only 9 am, she realised that today was going to be sweltering. At least forty degrees, she suspected. Then she sat up and begun to wonder about her air con – hadn’t she left it on before going to bed last night? Why wasn’t her bedroom cool?
    It turned out the air conditioner wasn’t working. All day, she put off phoning the building’s maintenance guy to see about having it fixed. First it was going to be after her shower. Then after she had made herself a small breakfast –for some reason she couldn’t stomach anything more than few pieces of chopped fruit, a slightly sick feeling had gathered in her stomach today. Then, as the day continued on, she continued to avoid making the phone call.
    Why? she wondered now, as she searched through the liquor cabinet for something appealing. Something to take the edge off her mood. Why hadn’t she made the call? What was it that she was afraid of? The more she thought about it though, the more it made sense. The last time she had spoken with someone, it had been when Chris had brought the correct book order back to her apartment, about a week ago. When she had finally left her sanctuary and found out the world was still wrong. To her memory it was almost hostile out there, a place that she was no longer supposed to be a part of. Since then, she had been avoiding contact with the outside world more and more. Her last few grocery orders had been left at her front door. Whenthe phone rang she purposefully meandered her way towards it, stopping to open the oven and check on a cake that was baking inside or glancing needlessly in the mirror. Anything to ensure the phone would ring out before she could answer the call. And each time she heard the musical tones cut out, she would notice that a breath would be expelled from her lungs, a breath that she hadn’t even been aware that she had been holding onto.
    What has changed? she wondered. Spending more and more time indoors since Danny’s death had been one thing, but what had happened to make her become so reclusive that she didn’t even want to speak to anyone? So introverted that she was afraid to make a simple phone call. As she finally placed her hand on the perfect bottle and pulled it out, she sat back to lean against the kitchen cupboards and thought about it. She supposed that if she was honest, she knew the answer. She was avoiding contact