LITMIR.BIZ

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alive with love and passion was now a cold shell filled with memories that had ripped her heart out.

      Every time she looked at a photo, a piece of jewellery, the furniture, the clothes – everything that was in the house, in fact – it all reminded her of him. How was she going to cope? The gut-wrenching pain was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. What did she have now, but a big empty void and a bleak future?

      Sitting in the dining room for hours in a daze, she finally heard a bird tweeting. As she pulled back the curtains, the sun almost blinded her. She hadn’t been to sleep at all. Every muscle ached, and her legs were numb from sitting. She clung on to the idea that maybe once he was away, he would realise what he was missing, and would return soon with a bag of apologies.

      Too grieved to talk to anyone, she pulled the phone from the socket and struggled to the bedroom. As she opened the door and saw the small teddy on the bedside table, she retreated to a spare room and drew the curtains. Too exhausted to do anything but sleep, she lay on the bed and dragged the purple quilted throw over her legs. But as she closed her eyes to blot out the world, his face was there, with that sorrowful look.

      Eventually, she drifted off and was tossing and turning, only to wake up with nightmares before drifting off again. At four o’clock in the afternoon, she sat bolt upright remembering the trip to Denmark. She would have to get her bags packed, but unexpectedly, her stomach was burning, ready to expel its contents. Crouched on the cold tiled floor and hanging on to the toilet, the vomit rose once more, and she almost choked. Her throat was alight with acid and her lips burned. All she brought up was bile because her stomach was empty.

      After she washed her face and forced herself to clean her teeth, she wandered still in a daze back to the bedroom to get dressed. Her skin felt sensitive, and so she slipped into one of her soft lined tracksuits that hung sloppily off her shoulder. Justin liked her in her Sloppy Joes, as he called them; he said she could wear a black sack and still look gorgeous, but maybe it had all been a lie. She looked once more in the bathroom mirror and noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the red eyelids, and sallow skin. No wonder he ran to the arms of someone else. She looked a mess, and yet he didn’t; his boyish broad smile and the twinkle in his round eyes were just the same – ageless.

      The dining table had been cleaned and the crap that was up the wall was all washed down. Her heart skipped a beat. He was back. Perhaps he’d made a mistake. Quickly, she ran to the kitchen, expecting to find him, but only to have her heart ripped away from her again. A slim woman, with dark hair scraped back into a ponytail, wearing no make-up and sporting a piercing through her nose, stood with her rubber gloves on ready to start on the cleaning.

      It was Angie, her cleaner of three years, who, in all honesty, Kara knew nothing about, except she worked hard, was reliable and trustworthy, and lived on the estate. Justin had taken her on when he read an ad in the local newsagent’s window. Angie was eager to earn money on the side, just to have decent food in the cupboard. Her rent had gone up and she could barely cover the cost of living. If it wasn’t for her brother Rocky, bunging her a few quid each week, she would have starved to death, but the cash-in-hand cleaning job paid the heating bill and allowed her to get her nails done or to have a night out once a month with the girls.

      ‘Hey, are you okay, Kara? I saw you asleep in one of the spare rooms. I tried to be quiet … Had a row, did ya?’ she asked, totally lacking any sensitivity.

      Kara wasn’t expecting to see Angie and was not in the mood to talk. She needed time and space to figure it all out for herself. ‘No, I’m not well. Sorry, Angie, would you excuse me, please?’

      Angie nodded. ‘Yeah, sure.’ She waited for Kara to leave, before she mumbled under her breath, ‘Snotty bitch.’

      Angie didn’t really care one way or the other. As far as she was concerned, Kara and Justin were a professional working couple too busy to clean up their own shit, so they paid her to do it. They also paid well, so that was that. As she saw it, Kara was just a geek with her nose constantly in a book, too aloof to sit and have a cup of tea and a chat with her.

      She cleaned two houses in the close and the owners were all the same – too preoccupied with their own lives to stop and share a piece of cake or even notice her there. She could not wait to get back home on the estate where at least there was friendly banter.

      Angie was still washing down the kitchen, when Kara returned, in need of a cold glass of water, fighting off another wave of sickness that had engulfed her. If she didn’t get her act together soon, she would miss the taxi.

      ‘Kara, tell me to mind me own business, but do you need a doctor? ’Cos, I swear, you look bleedin’ rough, girl.’

      ‘No, I’ve just caught a bug, that’s all,’ she replied, holding back tears.

      Angie didn’t ask any more questions. She removed her rubber gloves and sighed. ‘All done, I’ll be back tomorrow, for me wages.’ Her fake smile faded, and she hurried out of the room, finally slamming the door behind her, making Kara jump.

      Shaking with pain and fear, Kara opened a drawer and pulled out two twenty-pound notes and placed them on the side. She knew she wouldn’t be able to have a conversation with anyone without bursting into tears. When Angie returned, her money would be there, ready. She had to pull herself together somehow.

      How could she go to Denmark in this state? She stared at the phone. She had to call in sick, but she could not bring herself to make the call straightaway. She was at the point where she couldn’t handle another argument. In fact, she couldn’t cope with anything, all her thoughts now consumed with grief over Justin leaving, and there was no way this wretched feeling of despair would leave her any time soon.

      She pulled down the white case with the red cross and flipped open the lid; there, at the back, was a packet of cigarettes. She’d given up two years ago but now had an urge to smoke the lot followed by a bottle of brandy. Then she spotted the bottle of sleeping tablets. She grabbed it and nervously popped four pills into her hand. That would do it. Like a horse tranquilizer, that should knock her out. At least those tiny tablets would ensure some respite from the emotional pain.

      She threw them to the back of her throat, filled a glass with iced water from the fridge, and gulped them down, gagging at the bitter taste. Almost instantaneously, she felt overcome with fatigue and staggered off to the bedroom. Her mind went back to her work and the trip. Five minutes’ rest and I will call Roger and let him know I can’t make it.

      She had not realised he would have left the labs by now.

      In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of a car hooting outside, but her vision was blurred, and her body wouldn’t move. She ignored it, sank back into a deeper slumber, and slept for what she thought was just eight hours.

      By the time she’d woken up, it was early in the morning, but she had absolutely no idea of the actual time or even which day it was. She strolled into the bedroom and looked inside Justin’s wardrobe for a reality check. Sure enough, this was no nightmare – all his clothes were gone, with just a neat row of coat hangers, the only tangible reminder of his former presence.

      She wandered from room to room, beside herself with heartache. Her mind just couldn’t focus. Eventually, she made a coffee, lit up a cigarette, and sat in front of the television set, hoping something would take her mind off everything. But as soon as the screen lit up, she saw the date and almost gasped in horror – she had lost three days and had no idea why. The sleeping tablets had left her heady, but really, she should have known the date.

      ‘Oh shit!’ she muttered, her mind on the trip to Denmark. Her hands were shaking, as she plugged the phone back into the socket. A cold shiver ran through her. Roger would be angry and humiliated. She’d let him down again and now she felt guilty. Without even thinking through how she would explain her absence from work, she called the office number. Roger answered within two rings. ‘Professor Luken.’

      Kara stared into space, holding the phone to her ear. ‘It’s me, Kara.’ Her voice was a mere whisper.

      There was silence, and she could sense his upbeat

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