Page 41 of Saving Ren

“You sound very. . . Essex when you’re behaving like a lunatic,” he says. The smile he was fighting to contain finally escaping as he speaks.

I shrug. “What can I say? There’s a bit of a lunatic hiding in most Essex girls.”

“Or a bit of an Essex girl hiding in most lunatics,” Jem quips.

“Well, yours wasn’t hiding tonight, darl, she was front, centre, and on full fucking show,” Jo adds while pouring herself a glass of wine from the bottle I’d previously chugged from.

“And you can take your eyes off that bottle,” Jem says as she pulls my pain meds from the bag sitting on the bench, reading the label before holding them up. “These contain codeine, they shouldn’t be taken on an empty stomach, and they definitely shouldn’t be taken with alcohol, in fact, I’d highly suggest you avoid it until at least two or three days after you finish taking these. Codeine hangs around in the system and will end up making you vomit again.”

She pulls the other box out. “Antibiotics, so you shouldn’t be drinking anyway. Did they give you a tetanus shot?”

I nod. Jem can be a bit scary when she’s in nurse mode. A job she still manages to fit in between raising her two boys.

“Good. No alcohol, and please, eat something, will you?”

I nod again as a phone rings.

“It’s yours,” Gabe says, handing Jem the phone sitting next to him on the bench.

“Hey,” she says after swiping to answer. “Yep.” Her eyes come to me before she moves them to Jo, then Gabe. “Don’t stress, we’ll be fine,” she says into the phone before looking at me. “Go get your shit. Jay’s been to mine looking for you. Max says he was raging and is on his way here. Max is about fifteen minutes away and is right behind him in the car, but it might be better if you’re not here when they arrive.”

My skin tingles, so many thoughts rush through my mind, I don’t think I even breathe for a few seconds.

“Yep, see you soon.” Jem ends the call.

“Can she go to yours?” Jo asks, and it takes me a beat to realise she’s talking to Gabe.

“What? No,” I protest.

“Of course she can, but I’m more than happy to wait here for that prick to arrive,” Gabe responds.

“No!” Jem snaps. “Max is on his way, and he has my boys in the car with him. I don’t want any trouble in front of them. I’ll happily call the police if he starts anything, but I really don’t want any trouble in front of my boys.”

“Get your stuff,” Gabe orders.

“No, I’ll go to a hotel, I’m not going to yours.”

“If you think I’m gonna drop you at a hotel while your psycho husband is riding around looking for you, you’re fucking deluded. Get your stuff. You can stay at mine tonight, and we’ll sort something out long-term tomorrow.”

“Please, Loz, you know you have a bed here anytime, but right now, I need you to be safe, and unless you want the police involved and Jay locked up, it’s better that you’re somewhere he’ll never think to look,” Jo pleads.

She looks drained, and a pang of guilt fights with everything else I’m feeling right now to make itself known.

“Get your stuff,” Gabe orders again.

“I only have my phone and the cardigan I was wearing last night. I don’t have any otherthings,” I explain.

“Your cardigan’s in the laundry, it’s caked in blood,” Jo tells me.

“I’ll wash it at Gabe’s, That and my UGGs are all I’ve got.” Saying that out loud has my eyes filling with tears again. It’s the truth, all I have in the world is a blood-stained cardigan, my UGGs and my phone, but now’s not the time to be getting sentimental over what I’ve left behind. I’ve caused my friends enough trouble, and as much as I don’t really like the idea, staying at Gabe’s tonight is the sensible option.

Jo disappears then reappears with my cardi in a black plastic sack and hands it to me. Gabe, who’s now at my side, takes the bag from me, sliding his free hand to the small of my back and steering me towards Jo’s front door.

“Please don’t look so terrified, you’re safe with me, I promise.”

He’s so close I can smell him. When I tilt my head to meet his gaze, all I see is a concerned frown.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been dragged into all of this. I’m. . . this is. . .”