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‘Yeah. But blood doesn’t bother me. I’m not sure you could say the same. Are you OK?’

‘Yeah.’ He knelt by her. ‘And it wasn’t the blood.’

‘Oh.’

‘Can I help?’

‘I’m basically done. Just need to disinfect the sink and table. Yellow bottle. Spray then leave to dry.’

He grabbed the bottle and sprayed the table, then the floor, while she chucked her gloves and scrubbed her hands. When she was done, he sprayed the sink.

‘Can I make you a drink or anything?’

‘I’m actually really tired. I need to go home and sleep.’

‘Of course.’ He watched as she gathered her things.

‘Walk me out? You’ll need more dressings for Sylvie’s hand. I think I have spares.’

‘That would be good, thank you.’ He followed her, feeling a huge chasm between them, but not knowing what to say to fix it. The half-formed tattoo burned across his shoulder – a warning he didn’t know how to respond to. Instead, he watched helplessly as she sorted through the mess she’d created in her car, dumping things back into a bag until she found what she needed.

‘Here. It’s pretty self-explanatory.’

‘Thank you. For these… for tonight.’

‘Glad I could help.’ Her response sounded rote and so unlike her that he wanted to grab her and shake her, or tickle her, even kiss her… anything to get a reaction that was more like her usual sunny, teasing self – but he knew he had no right to.

‘Mia, I really am sorry, and incredibly grateful for what you did tonight. I know you’re pissed off with me, but would you please message me when you get home? Just so I know you’re safe.’

‘Sure.’ She hesitated, her hand resting on the open door. ‘I’m not angry, Aiden, not exactly.’ When she looked up at him, the hurt in her eyes was so raw that he almost wished she hadn’t. ‘Actually, that’s a lie. I’m furious. But I think I’m more disappointed. I clearly misunderstood our relationship… I know Friday nights were never serious or anything real, but I’d thought our friendship was. You told me I could trust you, and I did. But you’ve been holding back and lying all along. You put me in a bad position professionally because you didn’t trust me as a friend. Got to admit, that feels pretty shitty. You know how I feel about people – especially men – lying to me. I’d thought we were real, proper friends, beneath whatever else we were. But don’t worry, you’ve dissuaded me of that very effectively.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ There wasn’t anything else he could say. All his reasons – the explanations – seemed irrelevant against her hurt.

‘I don’t think I can talk to you right now. I need to go home.’ She sighed, looking smaller and sadder and more tired than he’d ever seen her before, and in that instant he truly hated himself.

‘OK. Goodnight, Mia.’

‘Night.’ She closed the door quietly, and he found himself wishing she’d slammed it instead. He could handle anger more easily than the sad, quiet resignation.

11

Mia was having a very strange morning.

The pigeons decided their only job that day was to resume their self-appointed role as annoyingly loud, feathery alarm clocks, and only stopped after she’d given up on the idea of sleep and stumbled to the bathroom. The face that greeted her in the mirror was too pale, adorned with dark shadows from lack of sleep, and her eyes were red and gritty from too many tears.

She contemplated a soak in the bath with a cool cloth over her eyes – she had time – but pretty much every product she had came from Glimmers, and made her think of Aiden. She was tempted to call in sick – to let her colleagues step in for her as she so often had for them. It wouldn’t exactly be a lie: her throat was sore and she felt battered and beaten. But she had patients and sitting around moping wasn’t very appealing.

She forced herself to shower quickly – using soap from her travel bag instead of anything he’d made – and did her best to hide how many hours she’d cried for with more make-up than she’d usually wear on a night out.

She stirred her coffee in a quick swirl, and glared at it when the random bubbles formed a lopsided heart in the cup. She choked down toast that she didn’t really want – but she needed to eat ahead of the day – and steadfastly ignored the burnt bit that could, from certain angles, look like a letter A.

Aiden smiled, feeling Mia’s hair against his skin and her fragrance in his nose. Then he woke up, and reality crashed back in, stealing away his peace and happiness. Not that he deserved any of it. He’d already called in sick twice, and was starting to feel bad about lying to Ophelia… although it wasn’t truly a lie: he felt worse than he could remember for a long time.

But he’d put it off for long enough, and decided to be brave and drag himself into work. He got the feeling his decision was the right one when the keys he’d been looking for – admittedly half-heartedly – for most of the weekend suddenly turned up, innocently hanging from their usual hook. It wasn’t exactly Hudsbury-level magic – but it was more than he’d expected outside of the town and enough for him to get the hint. It was time to head to work and face the music.

Mia hadn’t replied to his message – not that he blamed her – and he didn’t know what to do to make it right. Her silence made it very clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him, and he had to respect that. It was the least he owed her when he’d hurt her so badly. He’d behaved stupidly and cowardly and broken her trust: the one thing he’d known she couldn’t tolerate. He’d tried to avoid dragging her into his drama – and instead he’d broken one of the most important friendships he’d ever had. He was worse than the Triple D hopefuls who turned into toads.

She’d probably be happier if she never spoke to him again. And, as much as it hurt him, he owed her that much peace – and the chance to find the true love she dreamed of. Not just a dishonest friendship and Friday night fumbles.