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hypnotised by the intensity of his eyes. ‘Don’t give up. You have a real talent.’ He put down the sketchbook and drew her closer to him until there was no room for guilt or doubt or thoughts of drawing.
    Standing staring at the churning sea, Phoebe trembled at the memory of David’s touch but this was quickly followed by a cold wave of disquiet. Was Nola right? Had what she had with David really been a disgusting and deceitful thing? A sordid affair? Her hair blew across her eyes, temporarily blinding her as she shook her head. No, they had been drawn together by real love, a union of minds not just of bodies, they had been meant to be together. Phoebe felt in the pocket of her jeans and found the bracelet David had given her. She caressed it like a string of rosary beads, stroking each heart-shaped charm as it passed through her fingers. ‘ He loved me, he loved me. ’ She would not let Nola’s cruel words spoil something that had been so precious. She pressed the bracelet to her lips; the glass hearts were cold.
    A misty rain began to fall and the familiar memories came back to her like the recollections of a horror film you wish you’d never been to see. Phoebe turned around and searched for the old man who’d tried to talk to her earlier, she needed a distraction. The man was heading for the sliding doors; they opened and he disappeared. Soon it would be too late. Phoebe clutched at thoughts of David but they were disappearing too; she tried desperately to recollect the meals they’d shared – he once had told her she made the best cheese on toast he’d ever tasted, he used to bring her pink Cava. What did they do when they’d been in Jersey? Surely the whole time wasn’t spent in bed? Phoebe remembered being in the airport shop with him, looking at the bookshelves – the only time he’d held her hand in public. Her frantic attempts at diversion failed and suddenly she was in an airport shop with Nola many years before. The memories appeared in her head like cine film flickering on a screen.
    Polos or Refreshers? Her hand dithered between the two cylindrical packets. Nola stood beside her, tall and seventeen, her flat stomach exposed beneath a pale pink crop top, Levi 501s hanging low on narrow teenage hips. Or maybe just chewing-gum like Nola?
    ‘Come on, girls,’ her father shouted from the concourse outside. ‘They’ve just announced that the plane from Cork has landed. Granny will be here any minute. ’
    Then Phoebe was sitting in the car with Granny wedged tight beside her, Granny’s skirt was rough against her leg, the satisfying fizz of dissolving sweets was on her tongue. Nola, on the other side of Granny, listened to her Walkman and chewed her gum. Her father, driving, fiddled with the radio, looking for the cricket, his mop of curls hanging down, obscuring his face.
    ‘Chicken pie for supper,’ her mother turned from the front passenger seat and smiled at her mother-in-law.
    ‘Oooo, my favourite,’ Granny replied and then she leant over and whispered to Phoebe, only to Phoebe, ‘I’ve got something wonderful to tell you all later.’ And then there was a thud and a lurch and the spinning; like being on a waltzer at the bank holiday fair. Phoebe wasn’t frightened; ‘It’s just a funfair ride’ she told herself, as the car spun round and round, metal crunching on unseen objects, pebbles of glass showering on top of her. Then the realisation that she wasn’t wedged in by Granny any more; the pressure against her thigh was gone, Granny was gone, the seat beside her was empty.
    Then she was standing on a verge strewn with wild flowers; tall daisies swaying in the smoky breeze, the taste of Refreshers still on her tongue. Nola’s face was blank but Phoebe could hear her teeth chattering even though the siren sounds were getting louder.
    ‘Don’t look back,’ a stranger repeated over and over. ‘Don’t look back.’ Instead Phoebe looked down at her hands and was horrified