Never Ever Leave Me Read Online Free PDF

the cab herself.  As much as she hated being there she didn’t want to alienate herself from the rest of the women.
    “I hope you’ll excuse me, Marie,” she said.  “I’m rather tired.  I guess it’ll take a while for me to get my strength back.  I’m going to my room to lie down and get a little rest.”
    “Aye, you do that, Hen,” Marie replied.  “The lounge is full of weans at the moment .  They’re doing ma heed in and I’m used to the noise they make.  Do you want me to knock on your door when ‘Corrie’ starts?”
    Katy could think of nothing worse than being stuck in front of the television with a group of battered women exchanging their tales of woe while surrounded by their noisy children.
    “No thanks,” she replied.  “I think at the moment I need rest more than anything.  I’m so tired I might even sleep through the night.”
    “Okay, Hen, dinnae you worry, I can tell you about it tomorrow.  Then you’ll know what’s happened before Friday’s episode.”
    As she wearily climbed the stairs to her room the noise from the lounge reached a crescendo.  There were thuds and crashes, adults yelling, children screaming and the television was blasting out some repetitive dance number.  Katy once again found herself weeping.  She didn’t know how long she could stand living in this awful place, but where else could she go?  Until Tricia found her a place of her own she was trapped here and even if she was offered something, it might be worse.  At least here she was safe.

 
    CHAPTER 6
     
    John Houston hadn’t realised just how isolated he’d become until he moved south of the border to work with Patrick.  He was used to coming home and spending his evenings poring over his work with his head in a book or dozing in front of the telly.  He hadn’t had the strength or the inclination to do much else.  Now Patrick was showing him a calendar on the kitchen wall listing pub quizzes, invites to parties, a monthly dinner club, dart’s nights, bowling nights the list went on and on.
    “There’s quite a few of us singles living here,” Patrick explained.  “I rather enjoy my own company, but nobody wants to be lonely.  There is a difference you see and th e difference is having a choice.”
    Patrick’s home was a modern, four bedroom s, two bathrooms, detached, in a very upmarket area.  It was nothing like John’s traditional red-sandstone terraced house, but comfortable and spacious nevertheless.  For the first time in a long time John felt as if he was back in the world.  For months he’d shut himself away, cut himself off so he wouldn’t have to face people.  He didn’t want to share his grief with anyone and he definitely didn’t want to talk about his loss.
    At first he felt shy about joining in, particularly if there were women in the group, but after a couple of weeks he was back to his old self, joking and participating in banter with the rest of the guys.  Now that he was feeling better about his life in general, from time to time he thought about the sad, fragile girl he’d met on the train and wondered what had become of her.  He was sorry she hadn’t got in touch, but he knew only too well about keeping your distance from other people as a way of protecting yourself.
    T he two men began their work the week after John arrived and it immediately became clear that it was a marriage made in heaven.
    “If we’d known how well we’d get on , both socially and academically, we could have been collaborating on projects long before this,” Patrick said.
    “I’m really pleased the funding committee came through with the money,” John agreed.  “It’s absolutely true what they say, there is strength in numbers.  The committee obviously felt two heads were better than one.  Perhaps we should apply for a European grant on the strength of what we produce this time.  Maybe next year you could visit me in Glasgow, though I can’t guarantee the same social