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and let my body slide down until I sat crouched on the floor. I concentrated on breathing and had a go at disentangling my emotions.
    Truth was, I was hurt and piqued by the fact that he hadn’t rung immediately upon hearing my voice. But why would he, given the way I had thrown him out?
    I was also confused. I had really, truly believed that the tickets would get him to jump over his shadow, if only for one day, one night even. One night in which I would convince him that I was truly sorry, and that I loved him still.
    At that precise moment, the shrilling of the phone nearly made me jump out of my skin. I leaped up and crossed the lounge in one fluid motion, snatching the handset before the second ringtone had time to emerge.
    ‘Nate?’
    ‘Um… No. Emily? It’s Mum.’
    Mum!
    ‘Mum,’ I repeated weakly. ‘Hi. How are you?’
    Oh God, now I would have to make small talk. And I was blocking the line. What if Nate rang back right now?
    ‘You all right, sweetie?’ My mum’s voice was full of concern. ‘You sound a bit breathless.’
    ‘I’m fine,’ I lied. ‘I’m waiting for a call from Nate.’
    ‘So I gathered.’ Mum laughed. ‘Do you want me to ring back later?’
    ‘No, it’s okay. He can leave a message. What’s up with you guys?’
    So Mum launched into a description of my Dad’s latest DIY project—he was rebuilding the garden shed—and how he was driving her potty in the process. I laughed at the requisite places and asked all the right questions, and inwardly I counted the seconds and hoped and prayed that Nate would ring while my line was engaged. That would be better than hearing nothing.
    ‘So will you come for lunch tomorrow and see for yourself?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Tomorrow. You’re supposed to join us for lunch, you and Nate. You still up for that?’
    ‘Of course. We’ll see you at noon.’
    Ouch . You’ll have to tell her the truth someday , a voice whispered in my head.
    Not if I can fix this first, I whispered right back. Besides, Nate could always send his apologies for being busy in the studio at the last minute, couldn’t he? Mum wouldn’t question that excuse. She was in awe of his musical genius; it appeared she appreciated rock music more than I did. But that was neither here nor there. By going along tomorrow and making a pretext excuse on Nate’s behalf, I would buy myself a little more time for telling the ugly truth some other time. If that should even be necessary.
    ‘Great, we’re looking forward to it.’ Mum blew me a kiss.
    ‘Me too.’
    We hung up on each other, and I felt exhausted. It was hard, keeping up appearances. Yet speaking to Mum had broken the spell of indecision, and I resolved, quite abruptly, that I would drive round to Nate’s house and grovel in person.
    ‘Nothing like a bit of face-to-face interaction to convince him you still love him,’ I told myself. In great haste, possessed by the compulsion to see Nate, to see him now, I grabbed the MonX tickets off the coffee table, stuffed them back in their envelope, and bounded out of the flat and down the stairs.
    In ever greater hurry, I retrieved my Lexus from its allocated parking space and set off. Vivaldi’s Gloria poured from the speakers, and the soaring violins instilled in me a sense of optimism and anticipation. I was taking constructive action. Soon everything would be okay.

 
     
     
     
     
     

    Chapter Eight
     
     
     
    After five rounds of furtively driving past Nate’s building, I wasn’t so sure that everything would be okay. Located on the second floor of a warehouse conversion, his place looked strangely abandoned from the outside. I couldn’t quite explain why, but I was getting a strong ‘deserted’ vibe. All the windows were shut, but the curtains were wide open. There were no lights that I could see. And okay, it was the middle of May at six o’clock in the evening, so there wasn’t much need for artificial light, but Nate usually had one lamp or another