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“I’ve been a fool, clinging on. I’m in your way.” With dismay, I see that her eyes are glimmering with tears.

“No!” I grasp at her arm, even though I know it’s useless. I’m almost crying myself. “Sadie, I care about you. And I’m going to make it up to you. We’ll dance the Charleston again, and we’ll have some fun, and I’m going to get your necklace for you if it kills me-”Advertisement

“I don’t care about the necklace anymore.” Her voice wobbles. “Why should I? It was all nothing. My life was all for nothing.”

To my horror, she disappears over the side of Waterloo Bridge.

“Sadie!” I yell. “Sadie, come back. Sa-die!” I’m peering desperately down at the murky, swirling water, tears streaming down my cheeks. “It wasn’t for nothing! Sadie, please, can you hear me?”

“Oh my God!” A girl beside me in a checked coat gasps. “Someone’s jumped in the river! Help!”

“No, they haven’t!” I lift my head, but she’s not listening; she’s beckoning her friends. Before I can gather my wits, people are crowding around the parapet and gazing down at the water.

“Someone’s jumped!” I can hear people saying. “Call the police!”

“No, they haven’t!” I say, but I’m drowned out. A boy in a denim jacket is already filming the water with his mobile phone. A man to my right is peeling off his jacket as though preparing to dive in, while his girlfriend watches admiringly.

“No!” I grab at his jacket. “Stop!”

“Someone’s got to do the right thing,” says the man, in a hero-like voice, glancing at his girlfriend.

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For God’s sake.

“No one’s jumped!” I shout, waving my arms. “There’s been a mistake! Everything’s fine! No one’s jumped; repeat, no one’s jumped!”

The man stops, halfway through taking off his shoes. The boy with the mobile phone swivels and starts filming me instead.

“Then who were you talking to?” The girl in the checked coat gives me an accusing look, as though suspecting me of lying. “You were shouting at the water and crying! You gave us all a fright! Who were you talking to?”

“I was talking to a ghost,” I say shortly. I turn away before she can reply, and push my way through the crowd, ignoring the exclamations and grumbling comments.

She’ll come back, I tell myself. When she’s calmed down and forgiven me. She’ll come back.

TWENTY

But next morning the flat is still and silent. Normally Sadie appears as I’m making a cup of tea, perching on the work surface, making rude comments about my pajamas and telling me I don’t know how to make tea properly.

Today there’s nothing. I fish my tea bag out of my cup and look around the kitchen.

“Sadie? Sadie, are you there?”

There’s no reply. The air feels dead and empty.

As I get ready for work, it’s weirdly quiet without Sadie’s constant babble. In the end I turn the radio on for company. And, on the plus side, at least there’s no one bossing me around. At least I can do my makeup my way today. Defiantly, I put on a frilled top I know she hates. Then, feeling a bit bad, I add another coat of mascara. Just in case, somehow, she’s watching.

Before I leave, I can’t help looking around one last time.

“Sadie? Are you there? I’m going to work now, so if you want to talk or anything, just come to the office…”

Holding my tea, I go around the whole flat, calling out, but there’s no response. God knows where she is or what she’s doing, or what she’s feeling-I feel a fresh spasm of guilt as I remember her hollow face. If I’d only known she heard us talking at the funeral-

Anyway. There’s nothing I can do about it now. If she wants me, she knows where to find me.

I get to work just after nine-thirty to find Natalie already at her desk, flicking her hair back as she talks on the phone. “Yeah. That’s what I said to him, babe.” She winks at me and taps her watch. “In a bit late, aren’t you Lara? Got into bad habits when I was away? Anyway, babe…” She swivels back again.

Bad habits? Me?

I’m instantly seething. Who does she think she is? She’s the one who buggered off to India. She’s the one who behaved un-professionally. And now she’s treating me like the dim work-experience girl.

“Natalie,” I say as she puts the phone down. “I need to talk to you.”

“And I need to talk to you.” Natalie’s eyes gleam at me. “Ed Harrison, eh?” pqdm.com