Can't Let Go by Jane Hill Read Free Book Online

aware that I was sweating like a pig, a broad
band of dampness making its way from the small of my
back up towards my shoulder blades. Did she mean
something particular by her question? Despite the heat, I
shivered and I could feel the coldness of my sweat against
my skin. She was staring at me. Did she mean anything by
that stare? The conversation was taking a direction that I
didn't like; a direction that made me nervous.
    'No.' I lied badly, and I could only hope that she
mistook my inevitable blush for the flush of a hot face.
Rudely, I turned to the person on the other side of me,
which happened to be Andy, and I quickly absorbed
myself in another conversation. It was a variant on
walking away. I pretended I hardly noticed when Zoey
touched my shoulder and said goodbye a few minutes
later. But I watched her as she left, and there was a puzzled
look on her face.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid, I said under my breath as I let
myself into my flat later and flung all the windows open.
    Of course she didn't know anything. That conversation
had not been heading anywhere dangerous. She was just a
random woman who happened to come from America.
And I had spoiled a lovely evening. For just a moment
there I had felt like I was tiptoeing out of my black and
white half-world into a Technicolor movie.

Six
    I gave her my mobile phone number. That was big.
    That was huge. I never gave anyone my mobile
phone number unless I had to. But before I'd had
second thoughts, I had given Zoey my mobile phone
number. I woke up suddenly in the middle of the night
panicking about it. It was another sticky night, and I knew
I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until I'd dealt with
it. I dragged myself out of bed and fumbled around the
living room in the dark until I found my courier-style bag
with my phone in it. I switched the ringer off. That way,
at least I could screen calls. If Zoey rang then I wouldn't
have to answer. I put the phone under a cushion on the
settee to muffle any vibrations if a call came. Then I got
back into bed, feeling stupid and uneasy. I hated the
feeling that someone could intrude on my privacy just by
ringing a number, especially someone I didn't know very
well. I didn't know what had come over me, how I had
managed to drop my guard. I'd had too much to drink, I
was too relaxed. I had been enjoying myself too much. I
was usually so careful with personal information.
    I hadn't meant to give her my number. She'd been
showing me her phone, because it was one of those
BlackBerry-style devices. Except it wasn't a BlackBerry;
it was something else like it. And she'd been showing me
how she could access the internet and send emails from it,
and how it made reading and writing texts much easier,
and she'd said, 'Send me a text and I'll show you.'
    So I had. I'd sent her a text, just a stupid message which
said, 'Hi. Nice 2 meet u.' And of course that had put my
number in her phone. And towards the end of the evening,
before I'd started ignoring her, before she had given me
that intense look when she'd asked me if I'd ever been to
America, when we were still chatting, she'd said, 'We
should hang out some time. I'll give you a call this
weekend, okay?'
    And I had nodded, as if it was totally okay. A strange
American woman who could have been related to Rivers
Carillo knew my name and my mobile phone number. She
was probably going to give me a call. Stupid, stupid,
stupid.
    I spent the day avoiding Zoey's call. I left my phone
where it was, under a cushion on my settee, and I went
out for the day. I was avoiding Danny as well. I had
managed not to see him all week, not since he'd asked me
out, but I was afraid that if I stayed at home he might catch
me, and talk me into it; and I still wasn't sure if I was
ready.
    The weather was hot again and I had no particular
destination in mind. I walked south, smelling the tarry,
slightly rancid scent of London on a hot day. I walked past
the Brunswick Centre and Coram's Fields, past Great
Ormond