Marry Me Tomorrow: The perfect, feel-good read to curl up with in 2017!

‘Did you get insurance money from the car?’

‘A bit, but the car wasn’t worth much anyway.’

‘But all your stuff!’

He shrugged. ‘Yeah, so, I bought a bottle of whisky and went to sit by the canal, and before I knew it, I was just another homeless guy, sleeping rough in parks.’

‘What about the job interview?’

‘I never went.’ He shook his head and smiled sadly. ‘I know, what a loser, right?’

‘So really, you could go back to your brother’s house in Manchester?’

‘I suppose. But they think I’m working abroad.’

My mouth dropped open. ‘But you can’t go on living on the streets for ever when you could go to your brother’s and get back on your feet.’

‘But I was causing problems between him and his wife. He has a family. I can’t be sleeping on his sofa when they’re trying to go about their daily lives.’

‘That’s what families are for, surely?’

He shook his head.

‘So what’s your plan?’

‘I don’t have one.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Thirty-eight. I think?’ He frowned then nodded. ‘Yeah, thirty-eight. I feel older, though. Some days I feel about a hundred.’

‘Well that’s what sleeping rough will do. Do you know what the average age of death is for men living rough? Forty-seven. Do you really want to die at forty-seven?’

He gave a bitter laugh. ‘The way I feel some days, I’d be happy to die tomorrow.’

‘You can’t mean that! I don’t believe that. The way you are, always smiling, always chatting to someone, if you’re like that when you’re homeless then you must have been a great man when you had a job and a wife and a life.’

He shook his head. ‘You never appreciate what you’ve got ’til it’s gone. I reckon I was a right miserable git after I got out of the army. The baby helped but…’ He shrugged.

‘Do you still talk to your brother?’

Sam nodded. ‘I phone him occasionally.’

‘So what if I drove you to your brother’s house? So you could visit?’

‘No.’

‘Why not? Come on, it’s Christmas. People visit each other at Christmas, don’t they?’

‘What would I say? I’ve been lying to you for eighteen months and I’m on my arse? I’m an even bigger loser than everybody thought I was? No thanks.’

‘You don’t need to do that,’ I said. ‘Just go and say hello, see how it goes. You have to go back. You have stuff to sort out.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, legal stuff. You can’t walk away from your house when you have nowhere to live. And are you still married? Maybe you should get a divorce?’

Sam looked away towards the TV. ‘No. I’m not ready.’

‘Oh, Sam!’ I said. ‘You just said you went away to find yourself, but don’t you see that you’re more lost than ever? You need to go back to your family. Let them help you sort yourself out. That’s what families are for, aren’t they?’

He shook his head. ‘Emily,’ he said, in a low voice, ‘I can’t go back to Manchester where everyone knows what happened. My whole life has become a joke.’

‘She’s the joke, not you!’ I snapped. ‘What she did to you is cruel. No one will be laughing at you, Sam.’

Sam grunted, and I could see by the set of his jaw that he didn’t agree. I couldn’t believe that his wife had treated him so badly. It was awful.

Sam changed the channel again to one playing Christmas songs and we sat in silence, listening, until Sam’s head dropped onto his chest. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was nearly eleven. This was it then. I was about to let a strange man sleep in my flat.

Getting to my feet, I touched Sam’s knee and he jerked awake, wide-eyed and startled, making me jump back. ‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’ He blinked up at me, as though trying to work out where he was. ‘I’m going to bed.’

‘Right.’ He took a deep breath and sat up, blinking around at my flat. ‘Okay.’ He got to his feet and I pointed him in the direction of my spare room.

‘You know where everything is. I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Goodnight.’ His door closed behind him as I bent to switch off the Christmas tree lights, plunging the flat into near darkness. Somehow, it made this moment more real.

I stood in the shadows for a moment, breathing in the familiar smell of my flat, trying to calm my thudding heart. It would be the same if I took in a lodger, I reasoned, or shared my flat with someone. I thought back to my university days, moving into a student house with five strangers. It was just the same as that.

Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.

I went to my room and barricaded my door.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_0d848dcd-c965-515b-9847-336fd7f9d8c1)

It was weird waking up the next morning, knowing that Sam was in the next bedroom to mine. Winter sunshine slanted through the gap in my curtains, pooling warm and golden on my duvet. Rolling onto my side, I squinted at my alarm clock: eight o’clock; about the time I usually saw Sam on my way to work. I wondered if he was up yet and if he was, what he was doing. My phone beeped to say I had a text. Lydia.

Are you still alive?

What was she like? Rolling my eyes, I replied: Of course!

Then, smiling to myself added: Emily’s not. She’s dead. Love Sam x

My phone rang immediately. Snatching it up, I said, ‘I’m joking, I’m joking!’

‘You stupid cow! You had me worried then.’

‘Oh as if! Calm down.’ Chuckling, I swung my legs out of bed and shrugged on my dressing gown.