Until You (A Standalone Romantic Thriller)

By Clair Delaney

From The No1 Best Selling Author Of Darkest Fears Trilogy Comes A New Standalone Romantic Thriller - Until You.

Past and present collide in a sweeping tale of love and misunderstandings...

Lucy Phillips and Timothy Stone were destined to be together from the day they were born. Best friends and neighbours, they were raised on the outskirts of Brighton, a city by the sea, in a quiet family setting...and they were inseparable. For Lucy, Timmy was the one person who knew her through and through, despite her geeky nature. And for handsome and troubled Timmy, Lucy was the most important person in his harsh world - and the one who had always been there for him, whenever he needed her. Lucy swore that nothing would ever tear them apart. And then, the last year of school changed everything - because the boy that Lucy could never imagine herself without - leaves.

In the years that follow, Lucy yearns for Timmy's return, and it takes a tragedy that strikes at the heart of her, for him to return home. However, Lucy is unable to cope and drives a wedge between them once more. But with an unseen threat looming over Lucy's life, can she and Timmy overcome their past and embrace the future? Or are they doomed to always be apart?

A bundle of unopened letters, heartache, tragedy, danger and through it all...a love that never ends.

Buy Until You Today and find out how love overcomes all obstacles, even the ones right in front of you because sometimes, you just have to wait for the right time to fall in love...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Clair Delaney
• Release date: Apr 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463514078

Clair Delaney

Clair Delaney is a former P.A who currently lives in rural Wales.From a very young age, Clair would always be found drawing pictures and writing an exciting story to go with those picture books. At five years of age she told her mother she wanted to work for Disney, that dream didn’t pan out, but eventually, she found the courage to put pen to paper and write her first romance novel Fallen For Him. She is also the author of Freed By Him and Forever With Him, books two and three in her erotic romantic trilogy.If you would like to contact Clair, do so at the email address below. Clair would love to answer your questions, or simply read your feedback and [e-mail] follow Clair on Facebook. Twitter. Instagram and Pinterest.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

HE GLARED VIOLENTLY at me, rage and venom set deep in his eyes. And I knew this was it, the end. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have not seen it coming? But none of that mattered now…it would be over soon. I closed my eyes as I waited for the inevitable to happen, and thought of my dad and how he would have warned me about this man and his strange behaviour. He would have cautioned me – and I would have listened. I loved and trusted my dad implicitly, no questions asked. He’d always steered me in the right direction. Tears formed and bubbled up to the surface as I thought of him, and a strangled sob escaped me, then a silent river of tears began overflowing, and spilling down my cheeks.

Crying won’t save you now, I heard him growl from behind me.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I knew it was going to hurt.

Dying generally did when you were about to be murdered.

I just wanted it to be over and done with, but I had a feeling he was going to drag it out…he was enjoying himself too much.

I saw his face in my minds’ eye then…the love of my life…my hero, my Timmy.

My heart ached with sadness as I knew I would never get to see him again, not after this night. And I wanted so badly to tell him that I was so sorry that it had ended this way and that I didn’t want to leave him, not like this. He began shouting at me again, my attacker, and I knew the moment was coming.

So I concentrated even harder on the memory of Timmy’s face smiling down at me, but another sob escaped me as I realised I would never get the chance to tell him that I loved him again, that I had always loved him, and that I always would, until my dying day…

CHAPTER ONE

IT FELT LIKE it was going to be a good day, or at least, I hoped it would be a better day than the one before. I shook my head as I thought back to yesterday’s event and my subsequent breakdown at work. I felt so embarrassed it had happened as I’d always done such a good job at hiding it – there was no point bringing others in on my misery - but yesterday I had failed. Thankfully, my boss had understood and given me the rest of the day off - I’d never had to do that before, leave work early - but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

I sighed inwardly. I knew the reason why of course. It was because it was September. It was not a good time for me. Grief would rear its mournful head, and up until the New Year, I would become a shadow of my former self. But I guess that’s the way grief works: You have good days, bad days, and days when you would give anything to go back in time, and put right what had gone wrong.

Another wave of melancholy tried to take over me again, but I pushed it away. I couldn’t allow myself to have more time off work. I had to keep it inside and let it out when I got home. Come on Lucy, keep it together, I urged as I looked up at my reflection. I felt the resolve within - I would get through today, and everything would be fine. I nodded in agreement with myself and feeling determined that I was right; I applied the finishing touches to my make-up.

When I was done, I looked back at my reflection - at least I didn’t look so pale and freckly anymore - and managed a half smile. I could feel my resolve strengthening, but my hazel eyes blinked back at me in disagreement. I’m going to be fine, I softly said to myself, not sure if I actually believed those words, and finding a bobble, I reached up and tied my shoulder length, mousy blonde hair into a ponytail, and straightened my fringe. Then I checked the time – 6.20am. I was going to be late, shoot!

Getting to my feet, I quickly pulled off my robe, and dressed in a bra, some pants and socks and then I pulled on my jeans, my short sleeved light cream shirt, with the company name emblazoned across the breast, shoved my feet into my hiking boots and quickly tied the laces. Grabbing my bag, and then my autumn coat, I dashed out the front door, locking it behind me and began my journey to work, knowing I was going to have to speed walk to get there on time.

My name is Lucy Phillips, and I am twenty-five years old - although, soon to be twenty-six on December 28th. - And I grew up here, in this normal suburban neighbourhood, on a small, quiet cul-de-sac which mostly consisted of families, in a place called Brighton, which is a quaint coastal City in England. I’d known most of my neighbours, and they’d known me since I was born, and we are all on friendly terms with one another, except for our new neighbour, Bryan: a single man in his mid-thirties who moved in six months ago. He doesn’t talk to anyone, and mostly keeps to himself, which is fine - I guess we can’t all be neighbourly.

My best friend, Timothy Stone, lived opposite our small, two bedroomed bungalow and was like me, an only child. Our parents had moved here at the same time, and then our mothers became pregnant at the same time, and we were born on the same day, at the same time, and at the very same hospital.

Weird, right? Well, Timmy and I certainly used to think so. But many years later, Timmy would tell me that it was fate and destiny that had bought us together – not random events colliding with one another. And as I’m sure you can imagine, Timmy and I grew up together, and we were and always had been - up until a few years ago – the best of friends. From the moment we could walk and talk we became inseparable, and we shared everything, like two peas in a pod. I’d always known Timmy was different from the other boys, and that he was special because he didn’t act like they did. He was a thoughtful, deep thinker, even in his younger years, and he hadn’t changed, not in that respect anyway.

Timmy was sweet, quiet and shy like me and I adored him – completely.

We had a bond that was so strong I swore nothing, and nobody would ever break it.

I smiled wistfully to myself as several memories of Timmy as a young boy playing tag with me in the back garden flooded my mind. Deep in thought, I hadn’t realised where I’d got to on my daily walk, until a hand reached out and grabbed my arm, instantly stopping me in my tracks.

I looked up in surprise to see a woman quickly release my arm. Careful love, the woman said. Miles away you were, she added.

It was then that I realised I’d reached the pedestrian crossing and that the lights were flashing red, and that she’d saved me from walking straight out into the road. Not that there was that much traffic at this time in the morning, but that wasn’t the point.

Concentrate Lucy, I castigated.

I looked across at the woman. She looked like she was in her mid-sixties and she had a soft smile with rosy cheeks. If I’d have been more observant at the time, I would have realised she was more than likely homeless - judging by the state of her clothes and her belongings that she was pushing in a shopping trolley – but I was too preoccupied.

I smiled back at her. Thank you, I said.

You gave me a fright, she added.

I felt my face pale. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Thank you…for saving me, I said and shoved my frozen hands into my pockets.

She smiled back at me. It’s a cold one today, she said, and I noticed she was wearing what looked like a big winter coat, and was wrapped up in a hat and scarf and was wearing a pair of fingerless gloves. They actually got the weather right for once, she added with a laugh. My teeth - that had begun chattering ten minutes into my walk agreed with her. It really was a freezing cold wind. Jeez!

Yeah…it is, I replied, my breath a cloud before me.

I realised I should have watched the weather channel last night - which I normally do - because all I had on was my lightweight autumnal coat. I’d left my own winter coat, hat, scarf and gloves at home, not thinking that I would need them for at least a few more weeks. I guess I’d been wrong. I contemplated turning back on myself and heading home so I could change this coat for my winter one, but I knew it would make me late for work, and I’d never been late before, so I tried to keep warm by bouncing slightly from foot to foot. And as I did, I looked above me as we waited for the lights to change.

It was dusk, and the sky was gloomy, dark and cloudy. It looked like rain.

I decided there and then that I would catch the bus home if it were this cold when I finished work as I still hadn’t got round to learning how to drive. It was a sore point. But really, my twenty-five-minute walk to work didn’t warrant buying a car, not in my mind anyway. I rarely travelled outside of Brighton anymore as my bf from school days, Sally, had moved to New York after graduating from Julliard. I couldn’t be happier for her of course, but I really missed her, and Lei, my bf from University had been offered a job with a start-up A.I. tech firm based in Silicon Valley, which she’d accepted, so there really wasn’t any point. Besides, anyone living in a City knows that anything a person could want or need is literally there, on your doorstep: supermarkets and restaurants, pubs and clubs, gyms and bowling alleys, art galleries and cafes and there would always be something interesting to be found in The Lanes.

Brighton was home…well, it had been.

Either way, I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to as I loved living here. I loved how you could be right in the centre of the City, among all the people and the hustle and bustle, and then minutes later you could be relaxing on the beach, or walking in Queens Park or Steine Gardens.

The green man appeared, pulling me from my thoughts, and the lights began beeping. The woman, who’d saved me, smiled briefly at me again and began crossing the road. I was about to follow and stepped forward into the road when that feeling…that strange feeling that I’d been getting these past few weeks…washed over me again. I stopped, took a step back onto the pavement and looked around me. Was he here? Is that what the feeling was? That he was back and watching me, but he didn’t want me to know? I shook my head. Timmy wouldn’t do that, surely?

I sighed heavily, not wanting to think about Timmy, not today anyway, and seeing that the lights were back on red, but that there was no traffic, I hung my head from the biting wind and quickly crossed the road. I continued walking at a steady pace, and thankfully, the creepy feeling of being watched from a distance began to fade, but I wasn’t sure I was going to make it on time, so I decided to brave the cold and took my hand out of my pocket. I quickly looked down at the time displayed on my mobile. I was nearly at work, and I had made it with ten minutes to go. Phew!

As I turned the last corner, I thought I saw Timmy across the road and stopped again, but I knew that couldn’t be possible because he wasn’t here in Brighton, not anymore. He was a Marine now, so he probably out on deployment or in another country somewhere. The thought of Timmy being in danger somewhere always had the same effect on me. I felt my chest tighten and took several deep breaths, convincing myself, somehow, that wherever Timmy was, he was ok.

I looked up again, and the man that I thought was Timmy turned around then, and I could clearly see it wasn’t him. So I took another calming breath, and as I walked along the last street before reaching work, my mind drifted back in time to the last day of school, and how in the blink of an eye, everything changed for Timmy and me…

CHAPTER TWO

AS I ENTERED the last answer on my English exam paper, I looked behind me, trying to catch Timmy’s eye. This was it. Our exams were now over, which meant the end of school and onto college and University. We would be separated for the first time in our lives, and although there was a part of me that was excited about that fact, there was another part that was sad and ached with the very thought of not seeing Timmy every day. So I’d tried my best, over the past few months, to not think about it, because whenever I had thought about Timmy, and us not seeing each other, I’d got this weird knot in my stomach, and I didn’t know what it was all about, I just knew that it made me feel really bad.

Miss Phillips - Eyes to the front! Mr Banner, the head of our year, hissed at me, making me jump.

I immediately faced forward and feeling the blush on my cheeks, I hung my head and hid behind my hair. Several students in our year began sniggering, making me feel self-conscious. I had never liked being the centre of attention, I was the quiet, geeky girl who studied hard and got good grades.

I didn’t smoke or drink, and I was still a virgin – at sixteen years of age, I thought that was pretty cool, and I guess you could say that my dad had worked wonders with me, considering he’d done it all on his own – there must have been some method to his madness.

For instance, to make sure that I never smoked cigarettes, dad showed me pictures of diseased lungs caused by smoking – which freaked me out at the time - and then he showed me pictures of what healthy lungs looked like – I lied the latter. And suffice to say, I have never smoked, and I never intended on doing it either.

With alcohol, he gave me my first taste on Christmas Day when I was ten years old, it was white wine. I took a sip and pulled a funny face. It was gross. I told dad there and then that I could not see the fascination in it, which made him laugh, and then I asked for a glass of my usual Ribena, and I haven’t touched a drop since.

I smiled to myself then as I thought about swearing – or bad words as dad would call them – and how he’d gone about enforcing that law at home. It all started when I was little, and like most little girls at a certain age, I wanted to be a princess, and that’s how dad convinced me that swearing wasn’t to be done. He told me that little girls and real-life princesses, don’t swear, and I guess it worked. But he led by example. I’d never heard my dad swear, not once. Besides, I tried it once in my bedroom. I whispered a swear word to myself in the mirror, and it just sounded weird coming out of my mouth, like I was saying it wrong.

And when it came to sex, dad gave me the birds and the bees talk when I turned eleven, and I was about to start senior school. It was an eye opener, I can tell you that. I listened to dad’s hour-long talk in wide-eyed wonder as he told me how it all works, and the mechanics of it all. He reiterated several times how a girl gets pregnant - I think he wanted to make sure I wasn’t a teenage pregnancy – and then he explained how other girls at school may pressure me into trying sex because they had and that boys would put the pressure on too, because they were wired to want it – all the time.

But I already knew I wasn’t going to get pregnant in my teens, and by the end of the talk, I came to the conclusion that giving birth sounded horrendous, and that I may not have any children at all, which had made dad smile. But more importantly, it was on that day that I decided I wasn’t going to give away my virginity. I was determined that my first time was going to be magical and special, with someone I loved and who loved me back. That’s how dad said it should be anyway, and besides the fact that I didn’t think it was right yet, I wasn’t ready, and I felt too young. - I just wanted to concentrate on doing well in school.

I sneaked a peek at the hall full of students, hard at work with their exam papers and realised once again, how different I was to the rest of them, and how alienated that had made me feel. Because unlike most others at our school, I wasn’t loud, or opinionated, or outgoing and sporty, and I certainly wasn’t part of the ‘it crowd’. Not that it bothered me that I wasn’t, or what others thought of me because of that fact. Dad had taught me that I shouldn’t waste any time or energy worrying about what others thought and that I should focus on the things that I liked instead.

And me, well…I’d always preferred the quiet serenity of curling up at home in front of the fire with a good book, or listening to Sally, my female bf – and my only other friend beside Timmy - play her music, rather than hanging out on the streets as it just wasn’t my thing.

I thought of Timmy then, and how he had slowly changed over the last year, and how it had become his thing to mess about on the streets of Brighton after school. He would often beg me to come out with him and his rowdy bunch of friends, but I’d always declined, as I knew all the not so nice girls from our year would meet up with them. So I’d always say no to Timmy, knowing full well I’d end up feeling left out in the cold, or bullied by those girls for being such a goody two shoes, which is what they’d always heckled at me whenever I walked past them in the school corridors.

Two minutes left,. Mr Banner called out in a loud, authoritative voice.

Several groans reverberated around the room. I guessed some students were not going to finish on time. I felt a flutter of nerves and excited anticipation. Senior school was about to be over, but, another six years of education, and possibly more, was on the menu.

First, two years at a further education college, and then, from eighteen to twenty-one, University - so my many years of studying hard was only halfway done. I intended to go to Imperial College in London as they had a great Physics programme. I had no idea what I wanted to do, as in a future job, but I enjoyed Physics classes the most, so my dad said I should stick to that subject and see where it takes me.

Thankfully, I wouldn’t be alone in the Big City, as Sally had been accepted into the Royal College of Music in London, and was then hoping to get accepted into Julliard or Boston’s College of fine arts as it had an incredible music programme. I hoped she would get into one of those and that her dream came true. And as for me, after College, I was hoping to go to University here in the UK, but my dad wanted me to apply to all the Universities that had great Physics programmes, no matter where they were. Like MIT, Harvard and Stanford, which were all in the US, but I wasn’t so sure I could be that far away from my dad, or Timmy.

Finally, the bell rang. Time’s up, Mr Banner advised in the same authoritative tone. Please leave your exam papers on your desk and quietly leave the hall, he instructed.

The loud scraping of chairs against hardwood flooring began, and I followed suit. Picking up my rucksack, I slung it over my shoulder and turned towards the back of the hall, which was where Timmy was seated thinking that we were going to congratulate each other, and came to an abrupt stop as he was nowhere to be seen. And for some reason I couldn’t explain, I felt my heart sink to the pit of my stomach.

I turned back around, feeling a little off that he’d just disappeared like that when I suddenly remembered that we were supposed to be meeting up after school in the car park. My dad had promised to take me, Timmy and Sally out for an end of exams celebratory dinner tonight, his way of saying well done to us all – and that Timmy had agreed to go.

I frowned at the floor as I thought about my options: go find him or leave him be?

I sighed heavily to myself, as I really didn’t think we would see him later. I knew he hadn’t forgotten. And the last thing I wanted to do was spend the next hour trying to find him, and then attempting to drag him away from his idiotic friends, which was obviously where he wanted to be. But mostly, I really didn’t want to get into another argument with him if he was going to bail as we seemed to be doing a lot of that lately…and although I really didn’t want to admit it to myself, I could feel Timmy drifting further and further away from me these past few months, and it broke my heart to think we may never have that closeness that we used to again. So I decided to just let it be - I would leave him alone to do his thing - but I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

Hey Luc, I heard a sweet voice say, and I turned to see Sally smiling broadly at me.

I had instantly liked her when we’d met on our first day of senior school. She was talented, kind, had a big heart, and a big authentic smile to go along with that big heart. Sally was naturally pretty with long, silky straight blonde hair, and dark brown eyes that contrasted her features. She’d spent the first few weeks of school, convincing the cool girls that she was not interested in hanging out with them, and all the boys that she didn’t want to date them, eventually they left her alone.

I sighed inwardly, still feeling sorry for myself. And then I thought, if I didn’t have Timmy anymore, I’d always have Sally, and I instantly brightened up.

Hey Sal, I said and hugged her tightly, and she reciprocated, swinging our bodies to and fro, making me giggle in response.

I can’t believe it’s over! she squealed in delight.

I know! I giggled back.

Sally stood back and looked me over. How did you think you did? she asked.

Hmm, ok I think, I replied. How about you? I asked.

To say Sally was naturally talented as a musician was playing it down. By the age of seven, she could already play the piano and the violin, and then further on through senior school, she’d learned how to play the saxophone and the acoustic guitar, but her true love was the piano. Sally had high hopes for her career and was very ambitious. She wanted to become a concert pianist and to hopefully record and publish an album in the future. I kept my fingers crossed that her dreams would come true, but if I were completely honest, I’d always been slightly envious of her because she knew what she wanted to do with her life, whereas I always felt as though I was drifting and that I might never know.

All those years of hard work and studying have got to pay off! Sally exclaimed. If I don’t get into the college I want, I think I might die! she said exclaimed, but she was smiling.

Of course you’ll get in, I told her, laughing too.

"No, seriously, I will…just die if I don’t get in," she added, in a very dramatic tone, and I knew she was dead serious this time.

Sal, you will get in, I told her firmly, and that put a smile back on her face.

Feeling excited, we giggled at one another again then wrapped our arms around each other, and slowly sauntered out of the hall and out into the main reception area of the school, where the whole of our year seemed to have congregated. They were laughing and crying and…throwing eggs and flour!

Oh, no! I exclaimed in horror.

What? Sal asked.

I nodded towards the boys that had started the whole messy debacle, seeing Timmy among them, and Mr Ferris, the deputy head, who was frantically trying to usher all the students out of the building.

This way! Sal whispered as she grabbed hold of my hand, and we quickly disappeared before anyone could see where we had gone.

Hiding inside one of the empty classrooms, I took my mobile out of my bag.

What are you doing? Sally whispered.

Calling my dad, so he can come and get us, I said - I did not want to be egged and floured.

Lucy! Is it over? My dad answered in an excited tone.

My dad and I had a relationship like no-one else that I knew, but that may have a lot do with the fact that my mom died when I was only three. I don’t remember her at all. There are photos all over the house of her. Sometimes I feel sad that she wasn’t around so I could get to know her, but like I’d said to my dad on many occasions, ‘I can’t miss someone I don’t remember’. He’d always understood, and unlike many fathers, he rose to the challenge of being a single parent who had just lost their partner.

I know this was so hard for him to do because he and my mom were so in love, and he never expected to lose her – a drunk driver took her life – but I guess fate had laid out a different path for them both. But I’d see it in his eyes sometimes, the pain and the sorrow were still there for him, and in the thirteen years since mom had died, he’d never had another woman in our house. I didn’t know if that was because he was still so in love with my mom, or because of me. I’d hoped, as I was going to be leaving for College and living in another city, that he would move on with his life, and find somebody new.

Hi dad, I whispered. Yeah, it’s over, but the boys are throwing eggs and flour! Can you come and pick Sally and me up? I asked.

Dad started laughing. Things haven’t changed eh?

Dad! I squeaked in fear, feeling more worrisome that the boys may find us.

He chuckled again. Alright sweetheart, back of the school, hide behind the big oak tree until you see me, he said. He knew this school like the back of his hand as it was the same one he’d attended as a boy.

Thanks, dad, I whispered and hung up. Back of the school by the big oak tree, I told Sally, and the two of us made it to the back entrance without being seen.

Dad finally arrived to pick us up in his beat-up Ford Focus. He’d had this car since I was a toddler, I wished he would upgrade it, but he’d always told me that he wanted to save every penny, by not spending where necessary, so that when I finished University, I wouldn’t have a mountain of debt to deal with.

You see, my parents had been sensible and taken out really good life insurance before I was born, so when the tragedy of my mom dying happened, the remaining mortgage on the house was paid in full, and a lump sum was placed into dad’s account. But despite that, he made the decision to quit his full-time job as a professor of History and became a full-time dad instead. I loved him so much for doing that. He could have continued to work and got a Nanny in to take care of me, but he did it himself. And as time passed and I started school full time, dad started teaching privately during school hours to gain some extra income. I loved being able to come home to him every day, and I knew I was going to miss that so much when I moved away.

Hi dad, I said with a smile as I stepped inside the car, and as I did, I noticed he was wearing his favourite t-shirt. Black crew neck classic Rolling Stones with the red lips and tongue sticking out. He loved it and had it in white, grey and this black one.

Hi Andy, Sal said as she climbed into the back – that was my dad’s name: Andrew Henry Phillips.

Hey girls, Dad said and turned the music down a little. Dad was a huge music lover, mainly rock, and anything from heavy to soft. Rolling Stones, Start Me Up was playing when we got into the car – they were Dad’s favourite band: hence all the t-shirts. I liked that particular song, but I wasn’t a heavy rock girl like my dad. I was more of a soft rock and ballads kind of girl, as I found the heavy rock with all the screeching and the mad guitar solos, a bit much.

End of school – Woohoo! Dad said, sounding more excited than Sally or me. Alright! he said in an American accent – it sounded a little like Mathew McConaughey – and it made me giggle at him.

Dad held his hand up to me then for a high five. It was something that we’d always done, ever since I was a kid, and it had always made me giggle. So with a wide smile on my face, I slapped my hand against his, and then he did the same with Sally, making her smile widely too, and we drove home to the sound of David Bowie singing Starman, and us all attempting to sing along…

AS SOON AS Sally and I were in my bedroom, we signed each other’s school shirts with indelible ink – for nostalgia – and for the last time we got changed out of our uniforms: we would never put them on again, and it felt really weird that it was true. Then, not wanting to be late for the restaurant we were going to eat at, which was down on the Marina, I checked the time only to find it was still early. They didn’t start serving until 6pm, so we had some time to kill. So once we’d changed into our casual clothes, Sally and I met my dad in the kitchen, putting away groceries. My dad was tall, slim and had gradually gone bald over the years, but he had the greatest smile – it lit up his whole face.

Hey girls, how did you think you both did? he asked again. I could tell he was really excited about this new chapter in our lives.

I beamed back at him. Great! I said.

I’m not sure about my English language exam, Sally murmured, deep in thought.

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. There is no way you’re not going to pass it, Sal, there’s just no way! I said, and shook her slightly, trying to get her out of her funk.

She began smiling, and I knew it was working.

My dad suddenly stopped what he was doing, and with an iceberg lettuce in the one hand, and an aubergine in the other, he turned and looked at me. Where’s Tim? he asked, only just now realising that he wasn’t with as – like he was supposed to be.

I felt my cheeks flush and looked down at the breakfast bar. Um…I don’t think he’s coming, I said, trying to hide the fact that I was hurt, but it came out in my tone.

Well, maybe he’s just forgotten? Dad said lightly – he’d always had this way of seeing the good in people, no matter how much they screwed up – but I shook my head at him, not believing it was true.

Dad frowned at me, his brows scrunched together inquisitively, so I looked down at the breakfast bar again, not wanting to talk about Timmy as he didn’t seem interested in being my friend anymore.

I knew I was going to have to toughen up and get used to that fact.

I’ll send him a text, my dad said, and as I looked up, I caught the odd glance he’d given me, and my cheeks automatically blushed – they always gave me away.

So in my attempt to hide my emotions, and get off the subject of Timmy, I walked around the kitchen counter and began helping dad with the groceries, and I noticed from the corner of my eye that he was coming off as…concerned. I sighed inwardly, not wanting him to think something was up which would lead him to start asking questions – and I wasn’t ready for that. I needed to figure out what to do about Timmy by myself – and then maybe I would have some answers for him.

But for now, I just wanted to be left alone.

Thankfully, Sally saved the day as she began chattering away with my dad – she thought he was awesome, compared to her own grumpy father – so I was off the hook.

And by the time we had finished with the groceries, it was time to leave, and without any reply from Timmy – thankfully my dad didn’t ask me about him again - the three of us headed down to the Marina for our celebratory meal in the sunshine…

A FEW HOURS LATER and we arrived home after dropping Sally off at her house. And even though my dad hadn’t said anything, I could tell he was really disappointed with Timmy, for not replying to his text, or turning up, and so was I. It really did seem that Timmy had gone over to the dark side and there was nothing I could do about it.

Feeling tired from the long day we’d had, and adding in the fact that I’d always been an early bird, I was ready to hit the sack. Dad kissed me sweetly on the cheek and hugged me tightly as he whispered in my ear how proud he was of me, for studying so hard. I hugged and kissed him back, said goodnight, and exhausted from the stresses and strains of final exams, I shuffled into the bathroom, where I quickly cleaned my teeth and washed my face. Then, back in my bedroom, I got changed into my PJ shorts and vest, curled up under the covers, and slipped effortlessly into the land of dreams.

What felt like moments later, I realised something had woken me up. So I turned over in bed, trying to ignore whatever it was, and attempted to lull myself back to sleep, but then I heard it again…and realised it was a kind of tapping noise. I froze, my eyes darting wide open as I continued to listen, and then I heard it again – but it was a scratchy kind of noise this time.

I bolted upright, fear buzzing through my veins as my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. I held my breath, listening intently for any other noises. And then, as my eyes were now able to see more clearly, I scanned my room and I was relieved to see that nothing was out of place, and then I heard another tap, and realised it was coming from my bedroom window. Holy smokes!

I wasn’t brave at all, and it wouldn’t take much for me to run to my dad - not that I was spoilt, my dad hadn’t raised me that way – I just scared easily, and it didn’t take much to make me jump. But not wanting to wake my dad up for no reason, I decided to investigate it myself, so I silently slipped out of bed and cautiously walked over to my window, and as I did, I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, so I took a deep breath trying to calm it down.

The curtains were closed, and my room was pitch black and now eerily silent. And as I reached out to move the curtain to see if anybody was there, I noticed my hand was really shaking, so I took another deep breath trying to calm myself down, and just as I did, I heard a voice whisper my name in the darkness, which made me jump a mile – Cheese and rice!

Luc, are you there? I heard Timmy’s voice say, making me jump again.

I pulled the curtain back, and there he was, my Timmy standing in the back garden with a huge smile on his face - well, maybe not my Timmy anymore – and from the look that was on his face, I could tell he was drunk. Great!

Timmy! I hissed, feeling incensed he would do this. My head shot round to my alarm clock that was sitting on my dresser and saw that it 2.30 in the morning. What is he doing here at this time!

I thought Timmy had said something to me then, but I couldn’t make out what it was, so I reached forward and opened my bedroom window. Timmy, what are you doing here? It’s 2.30 in the morning! I hissed at him in annoyance.

His smile instantly faded. I just wanted to see you, Luc, he slurred, and almost fell backwards onto the grass, but managed, somehow, to steady himself.

It was then that it all clicked into place. Timmy had been to the end of school party that everyone had been talking about, I was sure of it. Ugh! It wasn’t my scene at all, and not Sally’s either, which is why we hadn’t gone – but Timmy evidently had. I felt angry then, and I was still so mad at him for ditching us, especially if it was for that party.

I crossed my arms and glared angrily at him. Go home Timmy, I told him sternly, but I didn’t really mean it.

He smiled widely again. Don’t be like that Luc, he said.

I took a calming breath. Timmy, you said you were going to celebrate the end of school with Sally and me tonight. My dad offered to take us all out for a meal, you said yes Timmy. You said you were going to go-’ I stopped talking because he was suddenly frowning deeply and staring into space, as though he was trying to remember it all, which made me feel even more furious with him. You know what, forget it," I said through gritted teeth, and started to pull the window shut.

I was supposed to be there? he slurred.

I could tell that he was struggling to stay in an upright position, and even though it was dark outside, I thought he was starting to look a little green, which meant there was a possibility that he was going to throw up on our lawn - which was totally gross. And from the state of him now, I knew that there was no way he would be capable of cleaning his mess up tomorrow and I was not cleaning up after him, no way! - And I didn’t want my dad having to deal with it either.

Part of me wanted to leave him outside to pass out. He’d been hurting me so much lately, but deep down inside I knew I could never do that to him. That’s when I came to the conclusion he was going to have to come inside and sleep it off here. I couldn’t take him home in that state as his mom – who was like a surrogate mom to me - would be really upset. But the truth was…I didn’t want to be anywhere near Timmy’s dad which is why I avoided at all costs, having to go over to Timmy’s house.

You see, I hated his dad, and I’d never hated anyone before, as I’d never had any reason to, but this man…I hated with wild abandonment, but that probably had a lot to do with the fact that he was abusive to Timmy. He’d have one too many – it was probably his fault that Timmy had begun to drink at such an early age, having a drinking problem himself - and then he’d take his problems out on Timmy with his fists, which was why Timmy spent so much time at our house, because he was avoiding his dad.

Timmy’s mom knew nothing about this as his dad always took to beating him when his mom was out of the house, or at work, so she had no idea. And Timmy refused to tell her because his dad already gave his mom a hard time, and he didn’t want to put her through any further heartache.

I was only nine years old when I found out, and it was by accident. I’d gone over to his house – a request from my dad – to invite Timmy out to the beach for the day, and I’d seen and heard it through the window. His dad was shouting, and I heard Timmy crying out for him to stop, so I looked through the window and saw him punching Timmy, and it shocked me so much that I was withdrawn for the rest of that day. But Timmy had stayed over that night, and I’d told him that I knew, but he made me promise that I wouldn’t tell my dad or his mom, so I didn’t…but I knew that the beatings had continued.

When I’d first found out, I’d wanted more than anything for magic to be real, like in the Harry Potter books so I could use the Transfiguration spell, Evanesco, on Timmy’s dad - which would have made him disappear - and he wouldn’t have been able to hurt Timmy anymore. I knew his mom would have been happy with that too because I told her exactly that when she’d popped over for a cup of tea with my dad, which they often had together. Mrs Stone was a quiet woman with a gentle disposition - which is where I think Timmy got his sweetness from - who smiled widely at me when I’d told her all about my idea, and then later that day, I’d heard her telling my dad what I’d said, and the two of them really laughed about it.

Back then, I’d completely disagreed with Timmy’s choice about keeping it a secret, but he was my best friend, and I had to respect it. Yet…it cut so deeply to see him wince in pain and to then try to deny it, as he would attempt to hide the fact that his dad had beaten him again. But what Timmy didn’t understand, was that his pain was my pain and what hurt him, hurt me too.

I’d never had a temper, and very rarely got angry, except for when Timmy was hurting, and there had been several occasions since the day I’d found out the truth, that Timmy had had to physically stop me from going over to his house, and exposing his secret to his mom. I wanted her to know so badly, and my dad too, because I was sure they could get rid of his dad, but Timmy didn’t want me getting involved, and it was years later that I realised it was because he was protecting me – Timmy had always put me first.

Timmy’s drunken singing suddenly bought me back to the present, and I looked down at him staggering around on the lawn as he attempted to sing Swallowed In The Sea, which was a Coldplay song, they were Timmy’s favourite band, and I’d heard it often enough.

I sighed inwardly then as I knew there was no way I was strong enough to handle getting him inside on my own, not in that state anyway. Which meant I was going to have to enlist my dad’s help – he was an incredibly deep sleeper and hard to wake - which made me feel really mad at Timmy, for putting me in this position. Oh, he’s in so much trouble for this! And for yesterday!

I scowled in frustration at him. I’m coming out, I told him. Timmy stumbled forward and attempted to hold his arms up to me, thinking I was going to climb out of the window. Through the back door, I said as I shook my head at him. Wait there, I huffed before he attempted to try anything, like climbing through my window, which would result in him hurting himself.

He smiled goofily at me again, and my anger softened. No, I must not allow him to make me smile.

Wrapping my robe around me, I shoved my feet into my slippers and headed out of my bedroom then I softly knocked on my dad’s door and quietly opened it. Dad was on his back, snoring slightly, so I padded over to him. Dad? I said, slightly shaking him, and as expected, I had no response from him. Dad? I said again, a little louder as I continued shaking him.

He suddenly bolted upright, which made me scream and jump back in surprise. It must have been the night for startling me, and I hated being frightened like that. And then with a loud, still half asleep groan, my dad murmured. What’s going on? His eyes were still closed as he said this and his upper body was swaying slightly, he evidently was in a really deep sleep – which made my anger at Timmy multiply.

I bent down and placed my hand on his shoulder. Dad, I softly said.

He turned his head, opened his eyes and seeing me standing before him, he was instantly wide awake. Lucy, baby, what’s wrong? he asked, his voice grainy from sleep: concern written all over his face.

I sighed heavily. Nothing, I’m ok. I need your help, I said.

My dad looked a little bewildered.

I sighed again. Timmy’s turned up outside my bedroom window, and he’s drunk, I told him. And I can’t handle him on my own, I added.

My dad knew how much of a hard time Timmy would get from his dad – he thought they just didn’t get along, how wrong he was - and how much trouble he would be in if he rolled home in that state.

Ok, I’m up, he groaned as he pulled the covers back.

I didn’t want my dad getting cold, so I placed his dressing gown around his shoulders, and he sleepily pushed his arms inside while I tied it at the front, then I slid his feet into slippers and helped him to stand. We both sleepily shuffled to the kitchen, which was where the back door was, and dad unlocked the door. I stumbled outside, with dad following, and we walked around the side of the house, and into the back garden. And as I had predicted, Timmy had passed out on the grass. Great, that’s going to make things so much easier!

I bent down and shook Timmy’s shoulders. Timmy? I whispered.

Surprising us both, he stirred and opened his eyes. Lucy, he slurred with a wide smile, and then he began singing again – loudly – too loudly.

Shhhh! I hissed at him, thinking of how Mrs Newton – our grumpy next door neighbour – would be curtain twitching to see what was going on if we woke her, and then she’d tell Timmy’s mom what she’d seen. Timmy chuckled up at me, and I shook my head at him, then my dad leaned down to him and offered his hand.

Come on son, you can’t stay out here all night, he said, and Timmy smiled widely at my dad – I had no idea what was so amusing – and took hold of his hand.

I reached out and grabbed his other arm, and together we managed to get him to his feet, and then we walked, awkwardly on my part because Timmy was taller and heavier than me, through the back door, and managed to get him inside and onto the sofa. And while my dad got Timmy into the recovery position, I went in search of the bucket we used to mop the kitchen floor with. Stomping back into the living room with said bucket in hand, I placed it on the floor, right underneath Timmy’s head so we wouldn’t have any vomiting catastrophes. If you’re going to be sick, please do it in here, I said, feeling irritated with him.

Timmy was smiling and squinting up at me. There are three of you, he said and chuckled to himself. I raised an eyebrow in annoyance, crossed my arms, and stared down at Timmy. I was still so mad he’d done this. Ugh!

I’ll get him some painkillers, my dad said and headed off to the bathroom, but not before I caught the sharp-eyed look he’d given me. Why did he have to suddenly become the all-seeing eye?

Not wanting to look at Timmy’s face for any longer than was necessary, I went in search of a spare blanket and a pillow from the airing cupboard. Luc…can't I stay with you?’ Timmy slurred when I returned, ‘like old times? he asked - what he wanted was to sleep in my bed, next to me, like we’d used to as kids, and up until sometime last year.

No, I scolded like he was a child.

Timmy frowned at me. He looked upset. And I didn’t like him looking at me that way.

His big blue eyes, surrounded by thick, brown curly lashes, seemed to pierce right through me as we silently stared at one another. Then he sighed heavily, and his head flopped back against the sofa cushion, making his curly, chestnut coloured hair bounce around on the top of his head. He’d always hated it. I’d always loved it. It was one of the many things about him that made him so different from the rest of the boys – or so I had thought.

As I placed the pillow and blanket at his feet, Timmy began singing again – if you can call it that – and for some reason I thought he was trying to serenade me, which made me feel bad for snapping at him, so I leaned down, placed my hand on his chest, and looked him straight in the eye. I’m mad at you. So no, you can’t sleep in my bed. I managed to say, without getting upset.

Timmy stopped singing then he silently placed his hand on top of mine and stared back at me with his eyebrows scrunching together. Dad returned then with some painkillers, so I quickly stood up, severing the feel of his hand on mine and walked into the kitchen. Then I poured a glass of water from the filter and walked back over to them both. But as I looked down at Timmy lying on the sofa, looking all cute and adorable, a sudden wave of emotion crashed over me – I didn’t know what it was at the time – all I knew, was that I was hurting, a lot. My throat suddenly felt thick, as though something was lodged there and realised I had lost the ability to form any words.

And so I concentrated instead on my father and watched in wonder as he carefully dealt with Timmy by lifting him up and placing the pillow underneath his head - I think he secretly had a soft spot for him – like if he’d had