I don’t want to be anywhere near Ethan. I want a completely new start.’
‘So you need to rent somewhere.’
‘And there we hit on problem one.’ I scribbled it down on the notepad in front of me. ‘I’m skint. Not a pot to do the proverbial in.’
‘You know I’ll give you money if you need it.’
‘And you know I won’t take it. I won’t take a penny I can’t pay back.’
‘You can pay it back when you’re working.’
I shook my head. ‘Could take me ages to get a job. I can’t take your money, Jack.’
‘If I said please?’
‘Not even if you begged.’
‘You’ve got that independence thing going on. Okay, I can respect that,’ he said, smiling. ‘Have you really got no money of your own though?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got some. It’s sitting in Ethan’s bank account, where I can’t get at it.’
‘Why?’
I flushed. ‘It was his idea. Years ago, when we first moved in together. I was only young and I didn’t have a current account, so he said I could share his. Just till I was over eighteen and we could put it in both our names. Then we just… never got round to it, somehow.’
‘So he kept your own money from you?’
Jack looked shocked, and I couldn’t quite suppress a feeling of humiliation and shame. I stifled an urge to defend Ethan from something I knew was entirely indefensible.
‘No, I had a bank card,’ I said. ‘In his name, obviously. I left it behind in my handbag when I ran off, along with other useful things like my mobile.’
‘Could you get it?’
‘What’s the point? He’d only have it stopped. That’s the first thing he’d do, try to force me home again.’ I shuddered. ‘And I can’t see him. Not yet.’
‘You can’t hide forever, Kitty.’
‘Please, Jack. I really can’t.’
‘Okay, if you’re not ready I won’t push,’ he said gently. ‘Have you really got nothing at all in your own name?’
‘Not that I can access immediately. Some savings in an ISA, but I have to give six months’ notice to withdraw. And I’d need my passport to prove my identity.’
‘Which is…?’
‘At home – I mean, at Ethan’s. Everything that proves who I am is at Ethan’s or Mum’s. Currently I’m Jane Doe, of no fixed abode. As a legal person, I don’t exist.’
‘Well, let’s park that for now. Next problem?’
‘Nowhere to live,’ I said, scribbling it down.
‘Haven’t you got any other close family?’
‘Just my dad’s sister, Aunty Julia.’ I frowned. ‘And she’s not to be trusted.’
‘Any friends who could put you up for a while?’
‘Couple of old university pals I could try.’
‘Okay, that’s an option to explore. So, problem three: work.’
‘Mmm. Not so many jobs in publishing, especially something as niche as travel guides.’
‘Who says you have to do that though? This is a new start, remember.’
‘So… what, career change?’
He shrugged. ‘If you like. What do you enjoy? What’re you good at?’
I paused to think about it. ‘Well, I’ve always liked writing,’ I said at last. ‘I’ve written the odd feature for local mags, unpaid. Doubt I could make a living from it though. I’ll have to take what I can get, at least until there’s an opening to fit my experience.’
‘Hmm. Perhaps.’ He looked thoughtful for a moment.
I scanned down my list of problems. ‘It’s the first one that’s the real kicker, isn’t it? I’ve got nothing that can prove my identity. And until I have, I can’t get my ISA money.’
Jack fell silent, staring down at his fingers spread on the table.
‘When does Ethan go out?’ he said at last.
I frowned. ‘What?’
‘Just wondered if you fancied a spot of light larceny this Thursday.’
***
‘Jack, I don’t think I can do this,’ I muttered, casting an apprehensive look down the too-familiar cul-de-sac. We’d parked at the end – parking right outside the door, where anyone could get a good look at the van and report back on it to Ethan, felt too risky.
Jack had spent hours talking me into this, and being so close to home after the events of the month before was sending my heart rate into overdrive.
‘What choice have you got?’ he said. ‘You need that passport.’
‘But what if he’s there?’
‘What if he is? He can’t hurt you. He’d have to go through me.’
‘I can’t see him, Jack.’ The panic trembled in my voice. ‘You promised I wouldn’t have to see him.’
He took my hand and stroked it soothingly. ‘It’s okay, Kit. He’ll be at work for hours yet, you said so yourself. It’s a ten-minute job, then we’ll be on the road again.’
‘Far away?’
‘As far as Timbuktu if that’s what you want.’
I sucked in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then pushed open the door of the camper. ‘Right. Okay. Let’s get it over with.’
The house looked the same as the last time I’d seen it, except that the chrysanthemums were coming into bloom and the lawn was fresh-mown. It seemed almost absurd, finding everything just as I’d left it.
Mrs Bartholomew, our elderly neighbour, was in her front garden deadheading roses.
‘Oh! Kitty!’ she said when she spotted me. ‘Well, you’re back early.’
‘Hello, Mrs Bartholomew. Um, am I?’
‘Is the course over already? Oh, or do they give you half-term like at school? We weren’t expecting you back until next month.’
I blinked. ‘Sorry – weren’t expecting me back from where?’
‘Well, from the editing course. Ethan said you’d be away at least two months. Such a shame, straight after your wedding, but I suppose it was too good an opportunity to pass up.’ She shook her head. ‘The world of work’s certainly very different than it was in my day.’
‘Sounds pretty different than it was in mine,’ I muttered. ‘Oh, er, this is Jack. He’s my… cousin.’
‘Hiya.’ Jack smiled his charming smile for her. I was sure I saw Mrs Bartholomew blush under her huge-brimmed sun hat.
When they’d finished exchanging pleasantries, all the time with me struggling to keep my anxiety from spilling out, we went round the back and I rummaged under the azalea pot where Ethan always stashed the spare key.
Jack was smirking as he followed me in.
‘He didn’t really tell the neighbours you were on a two-month residential editing course?’
‘Apparently.’ I couldn’t help smiling too. It was pretty funny, in a grim sort of way. ‘I suppose telling everyone I’m off learning the art of the possessive apostrophe is a bit less humiliating