Please Don't Stop The Music by Jane Lovering

Author:Jane Lovering
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, love, comedy, romantic, funny, novel, story, rock, heroine, star, hero, indie, york, jewelery
Publisher: Jane Lovering

Chapter Thirteen

The next day I left Rosie lying in, whistled a cheery ‘see ya’ through her door and hoisted my rucksack onto my shoulder. I’d written her a note of farewell and left it on the pillow of my bed, stripped the sheets and duvet and put them in the washing machine. Wiped all the surfaces clear of any trace of my occupation. She would forget me in no time as lots of people had done before her. Just because I’d felt more at home here, more settled than I ever had anywhere since I was fifteen, it gave me no rights to call the place home. I had no rights. No beliefs, nothing to pin myself to. I was a ghost, living on another plane of existence, one not even suspected by any of the people who called me their friend.

A pang of remorse shot through me so fast I had to stop and catch my breath. I was walking towards the bus stop, past the gateway to the opulence that was Saskia and Alex’s enormous converted farmhouse. Now I’d never get to show Saskia how wrong she’d been to turn me away from her shop, to carry on this stupid vendetta that she’d got going, for whatever pointless reasons. Never get to rub her nose in my future success. Another dart of loss pierced a hole in my gut, but this time I straightened up, faced forwards and ignored it. The bus was coming. The past didn’t matter – I had to keep telling myself that. Recent past, long past, it made no difference. It was all gone. I could forget.

The shop was closed. The main window was obscured by a huge metal cover locked in place and the door had bars down on the inside. It didn’t look as though Ben had been there all day.

I breathed hard, as though I’d run, and wiped my arm across my eyes. What was I doing? I never cried, not ever. I’d shed my last tears five years ago, that had been another promise. I was tired surely, that was all. And a little disappointed to find the place locked up and silent. I’d wanted – what had I wanted? To talk? To find out what his problem was? Or just to confront him, to ask him how he dared to unsettle my well-being with his sudden insights and his equally sudden turnaround, which had allowed me inside his head while he kissed me senseless? Stupid. Stupid.

My path to the station took me past Wilberforce Crescent. The extra half-mile of walking got my feelings under control and I was well able to convince myself that I needed to let him know I was leaving. Just – and this was important – just so he could have a chance to find someone else to work in the shop.

I rang the bell. There was no response so I tiptoed down the basement steps and squinted through the blinds covering those windows which lay below street level.

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