Page 70 of No Safe Place

Saturday | Afternoon

Lily

Lily thanked the driver as she got off the bus, outside the Maudsley.

The crowd of people who’d got off behind her streamed towards the park. It was another cloudless afternoon, sun beating down. The perfect Saturday.

She didn’t have sun cream at Scott’s, and her shoulders would burn if she didn’t get inside soon.

Her legs felt heavy and unsteady, but now she knew what had caused her symptoms, they were easier to ignore. She wasn’t sick, and she’d start to feel better as soon as all the shit was out of her system.

She was buzzed into the building, and gave her name at reception.

Lily couldn’t connect the Maudsley now to the hospital she’d been in as a teenager. Partly, it was because all her memories of that time had an otherworldly quality. Not a whole picture, more like snapshots and fragments. Vignettes.

It could also be down to the extensive refurb and paint job.

It was Erin, the nurse from the other day, who let Lily onto the ward. She kept up a stream of chatter as she guided Lily down the corridor, to the dining room.

Callum was sat at a table reading a book.

Lily stopped in the doorway, and as if sensing her presence, he looked up and smiled.

He was holding the book at the corners, thumbs over the page numbers, like he used to. But reading was reading.

‘Hey,’ she said, slowly. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m out-of-my-head anxious,’ he said, with a laugh. He dropped the book onto the table and pushed it as far away as he could reach. ‘How’re you?’

‘You seem better.’

Cal’s smile slipped. ‘Lil?’

She was tearing up. It was stupid, and selfish – but the sight of him reading a book was going to make her cry. She did a big sniff, pressing the heel of her hand to her nose. ‘Hay fever.’

‘O-kay.’ Callum folded his arms.

She’d made it awkward.

‘What book is it?’

‘It’s a Vonnegut. Maxwell is a fan too. I don’t think I’ve taken a word of it in. Just stared at the same sentence over and over.’ His tone was conciliatory.

Maybe it was the side effects, or the lack of sleep. Or maybe she was just a bitch.

Because she wasn’t happy to see him reading. She felt jealous.

How many years had she spent trying to help him? Christ – how many years had David tried? Ten minutes on this ward, with this new doctor, and he was tackling one of his biggest compulsions.

He didn’t need her. Maybe he never had.