Inbetween Days Read Online Free PDF

lonely. I’d want someone to know the exact moment I went.
    At seven, I put another can of tuna on the spare-room windowsill and threw the empty one out. At eight, I opened a packet of cashews, ate them all and drank half a glass of wine. By nine, Trudy still wasn’t home.
    That afternoon, Ma had strolled past the roadhouse without a glance. Her hair, once pale blonde like Trudy’s, was darker and threaded with grey. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her wear it down. I stared at her through the window, willing her to turn around, but she kept walking.
    Astrid had been talking all day about how there was nothing for her and Adam in Mobius and she didn’t know why they stayed. When I added that to Ma’s snub and Luke’s distance, I found myself touching wood to ward off a bad omen. Any change in routine made me feel as if the ground had moved beneath my feet. If Astrid left Mobius the sun might as well not rise the next day.
    I washed, dried and put the wine glass away. I couldn’t stand it anymore, being too close to the person up in the forest and whatever awful thoughts they were thinking or whatever terrible thing they’d already done. I picked up the wall-phone receiver and listened to the dead connection. Trudy hadn’t paid the bill even though I’d given her the money for half of it.
    I rode out to the nearest telephone box, a kilometre away on the outskirts of town, itching to climb out of my own skin.
    The phone box seemed like the only lighted window in town. Moths circled above, some fluttering and dying on the ground.
    I couldn’t decide who to call. Astrid would be furious if I woke Adam. Off in one direction, Trudy might have been wiping beer circles off the tables in the pub; maybe Ma was asleep almost exactly the same distance in the other direction. Dad would be in a different room from Ma. That was the only thing I could be sure of.
    I was still in the middle, holding two sweaty coins in my palm. I slid down, my back pressed against the dirty glass.
    I don’t know what I expected from leaving home, living with Trudy, loving Luke. I’d slipped out of my old life and into a new one. I had memories—some so hazy they could have been second-hand—of sitting on the school steps, listening to the other girls sharing plans for the future, imagining my own. Mine seemed reasonable and uncomplicated: freedom, money in my pocket, my own space, love. Once, when I was a kid, I climbed huge humps of seaweed at the beach, kicked them, felt their solid promise of something underneath—a creature, a treasure, even a dead body—when in reality there was just more seaweed. I had expected my world to open up, but somehow it was only smaller.
    I flipped one coin. Tails. I flipped the other. Heads. I still didn’t have an answer. I picked up both coins and did what I’d sworn never to do again.
    A woman answered. She sounded sleepy. ‘Hello?’
    ‘Could I please speak to Luke?’
    ‘He isn’t home. Look, it’s very late. Who did you say you were?’
    ‘I didn’t. It’s Jack.’
    ‘You really shouldn’t be calling at this hour. Why don’t you try again tomorrow?’
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘Well, I’ll tell him you called.’
    ‘No, please…’ I started, but she’d already hung up.
    I’d crossed a line. Luke would be furious with me; I was furious with him for not being there and for leaving me to imagine a thousand places he shouldn’t be. Was this love I felt? I still didn’t know. I had nothing to compare with it. If being in love meant being obsessed and irresponsible and desperate and ridiculous all at the same time, then it was love.
    I rode back on the road. It was safer, quicker, and I was past caring about being caught. You couldn’t even scream in Mobius—the bugs would fly into your mouth.
    Trudy was home, wiping dishes that had been air-drying on the rack for days. Her expression was so carefully blank she must have been practising.
    ‘Where’ve you been?’
    ‘Phone