Alex laughs at my fussing.
‘Don’t forget to feed Cass. And make sure she has water.’
‘You mean in case she gets… thirsty?’
‘Yes, of course—’ I stop myself when I realise he’s joking and he laughs again.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to let her die of thirst or starve or waste away. I might even cuddle her a bit. You’re back tomorrow anyway.’
‘I know but—’
‘I guarantee when you get back we’ll both be alive.’
‘I’ve left a fish pie in the fridge. A hundred and eighty for forty minutes. And be nice to your father when he gets back.’
Alex gives an exaggerated eye roll.
‘Please. He’s worried in case something happens to your gran while I’m gone. Look, please, just don’t aggravate him, OK?’
‘He doesn’t give a shit about Gran.’
‘Of course he does. I’ve told him I’ll be back if there’s any change in her and the hospital has my number.’
Everything will be fine at home; I’ve made sure there is nothing for either of them to think about, apart from letting Cass out tonight and Alex walking her first thing, but I’m jittery nonetheless. My hands tremble so much I can’t fasten the straps of my bag. I try not to think too hard about what I’m doing. I know it’s wrong. How much more guilt can my body take before it finally collapses beneath the weight of it?
‘If there’s any problem at all—’
‘There won’t be,’ he says.
‘Yes, but if there’s a problem—’
‘Call your mobile?’ he says with a mocking tone. ‘Yeah, yeah. I think I’ve got it.’ He loops his arms around my middle. ‘Mum. Stop worrying. Go and have some fun with Vicky. You totally deserve it.’
My legs buckle and I hold on to him tightly to stop myself stumbling.
As the train pulls out of Penzance I close my eyes and watch the flicker of orange light dancing on my eyelids. My body thrums with anxiety, and I grip my bag tighter to my chest and rest my cheek on it, turning my head so I can watch the sea. I think about staying on the train. All the way to London. I could disappear. I watch myself step on to the platform at Paddington to be swallowed whole by the ravenous city. It would be easy to run. I could turn my back on everything, draw a line beneath it, start again, live hand to mouth, hour to hour, and have nothing else to think about but keeping warm and fed. I recall Cam telling me about his time living like this and a physical ache tightens like a vice.
‘Excuse me?’
I look up. The woman in the seat opposite is staring at me with a soft and sympathetic gaze. She is dressed in a fleece and has a utilitarian rucksack beside her with a just-in-case umbrella tucked into one of its external pockets and a blue metallic water bottle in the other.
‘Yes?’
‘I just wondered…’ She hesitates. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ I say as I turn my head away from her and refocus on the view through the window, the sea now replaced with buildings and grey. I know she is staring, but I resolutely don’t move, my skin flushing hot as I silently will her to leave me alone.
A few minutes later, the train starts to slow and the announcer tells us we’re coming into St Erth. My stomach tumbles as I walk along the carriage using the headrests to steady me. When the train draws to a halt, I lean out of the window to open the door. My hand is sweaty and slips on the handle. I’m the only one to get off. A few people file on, then the doors clang shut and the guard’s whistle blows. I watch the train draw away from me as I stand, alone and wracked with doubt, on the empty platform.
With each step towards the station exit, my jangling nerves heighten, tightening around my innards like a noose. I climb the stairs. Cross the footbridge. Turn to go down.
My heart skips.
He is at the bottom of the steps.
Waiting for me.