Page 7 of The House Swap

There had been moments over the last year where it had felt like there could be more between them than friendship. Tom had even floated the idea of her visiting Crete once or twice, though it had never quite moved beyond a vague and appealing suggestion.

Perhaps that failure was on Poppy’s part. She was always so busy with work.

The distance did make things complicated, but the thought lingered. The prospect of escaping her problems right now and jetting away for a few days was appealing, but it wasn’t realistic. She needed to figure out a way to save her business. Not daydream of warmer climates.

At least speaking with Tom improved her mood and she returned to her flat in a more positive frame of mind. This storm might linger for a while, but eventually it would pass. And not everyone she worked with was going to have seen Simon’s video.

As for authors who had previously hired her, she hoped they would draw their own conclusions based on the quality of the work she had done for them.

She had been prudent with her savings over the years, squirreling away a little extra money whenever she could. If she lost more work, at least she would be able to keep paying her mortgage and buying food for a few months.

Her afternoon was quieter. After putting her phone on silent, she managed to get a couple of hours of editing done, and when she did check it, she ignored all of the negativity waiting for her, instead focusing on one WhatsApp message.

It was from Tom.

Just checking in. You don’t need to reply. I just wanted you to know I’m here.

Poppy stared at the screen, a small, unexpected tightness in her chest.

It shouldn’t have mattered so much. But it did.

3

SATURDAY 24 OCTOBER

By Saturday morning, Poppy was exhausted. Sleep had come in short, broken bursts, her mind refusing to switch off. The adrenaline that had carried her through the previous forty-eight hours had burned itself away, leaving behind a dull and draining tiredness that sleep hadn’t touched.

She lay in bed for longer than usual, staring at the dated Artex swirls on the ceiling and listening to the sounds of the street below: cars passing, a neighbour’s door slamming, kids laughing as they walked by. All the signs of ordinary life continuing without her.

Out of habit, she started to reach for her phone, then quickly stopped herself. There was no point looking at social media. She already knew what she would find.

Instead, she forced herself to get up, and after showering and dressing, she made coffee that she barely tasted. Mostly, she loved the solitude of her flat, but this morning it was too quiet – almost suffocatingly so. To try to banish the silence, she turned on the radio for company and attempted to sort her day.

Normally, she would work for a couple of hours on a Saturday morning, then head out either for a walk or sometimes to meet friends for lunch. There were no plans for today, though, and she was glad. She was too distracted and wouldn’t be good company.

Forcing herself to open her laptop, she stared at the screen and willed herself to work, but nothing came. After twenty minutes of blinking at the manuscript, she closed it again. Instead, she grabbed her jacket.

Outside, the air was cool and sharp. Autumn had crept in properly now and leaves were slick on the pavement, while the sky was a bleak and depressing grey. It did nothing to help her mood, and she walked with no destination in mind, her hands shoved deep in her pockets, letting her feet carry her through the familiar streets.

She thought about the authors she was supposed to be editing for next week. About the invoices she hadn’t yet sent. And about the one-star reviews sitting like a stain on her website. Mostly, though, she tried to think about anything other than Simon Daley.

As she went to walk past a cafe she occasionally stopped at, she paused, the smell of freshly ground coffee enticing her inside. She ordered one, taking a corner table where she could watch people from the window, all of them wrapped up in their own lives.

Had any of their worlds imploded like hers had?

Her phone buzzed on the table and she glanced at the screen, seeing she had a message from Keira.

I’m coming over this afternoon. Don’t argue.

Poppy managed a smile and typed back a single thumbs-up.

Keira showed up about half an hour after Poppy had arrived back at her flat, sunglasses that she didn’t need today pushed up into her hair and takeaway bags swinging from her wrists.

‘Kebabs?’ Poppy questioned, the aroma filling the hallway and making her empty stomach rumble.

‘Only the best for my girl.’ Keira grinned, kicking the door shut behind her. ‘You look like hell,’ she added affectionately.

‘Thanks. You always know what to say.’