JEN
We’re back at the flat. I’ve settled Bex on her bed, given her a couple of sleeping pills, and told her that she’ll feel better after a rest. The relief I feel when I shut her bedroom door is immense. The mask I’ve been wearing since travelling back from Colchester slips away. I don’t have to endure her looking at me, studying me, at least for the hour or so that she’s asleep.
I don’t know what to think, what to feel. The scene on the station platform plays itself over and over in my head. I don’t know whether she believes the story about me having to go into the office. But it’s all I could think of and I need an excuse to get away. On the sofa, I read through some of Penelope’s messages, messages that I could only glance at when I saw them flash onto my screen on the train. She’s sorry for going through my coat pockets. She needs to speak to me. She is insistent. And the last text: she thinks I’m in danger.