Jake looked at her sideways, grinning slightly.

“I don’t know about that but – “

“But what –“

His grin grew wider.

"That's where the vampires live."

Bella pushed him gently. "Don't be silly."

"It's true. Didn't you see that program? It was on, oh, years ago...some professor going on about the Highgate vampires. Perhaps if we walked down here at night, we’d see them emerging from their tombs… all in white… stretching out their arms through the railings."

Bella laughed uneasily.

"I don't believe in vampires."

Jake was suddenly sober. "Nor do I, really. It’s stupid.”

“Well – “

“I mean, Christ knows there are enough real monsters in the world as it is."

The bright day seemed to dim a little. They walked further on in silence, past the black and green tangle of the cemetery and crossed the road again.

"There's a cafe up here," said Jake. He sounded determinedly cheerful. "How do you feel about a great big fry-up?"

Bella grinned. "I feel good about it."

As they sat down at an outside table, she found herself suddenly warm, remembering how good he’d made her feel last night. She had a sudden, violent flashback; Jake’s hipbones digging into her inner thighs, his urgent panting in the darkness above her, her arms locked about his straining ribcage.

"You were amazing last night," he said, shocking her. It was as if he'd read her mind. He moved his chair closer to hers so he could put a warm hand on her thigh. Bella felt dizzy.

"Come here."

They kissed for several minutes, only stopping when the waitress pointedly crashed their plates down in front of them. Bella knew she was making a public spectacle of herself. How many times had she seen couples locked together at the mouth, oblivious to the world, and she’d cringed, embarrassed for them? But somehow, today, she just didn't care.

They separated eventually and she ate her food slowly, savouring each mouthful, loving the feel of Jake's palm moving slowly up and down her leg underneath the table. The coffee was joltingly strong - she could feel her eyes widening as she swallowed it. This was so unlike how she expected to feel – she’d expected to feel vulnerable, emotionally bruised, ready to be heart-broken. Instead she felt enormously exhilarated. She felt ready for anything. I trust him, she thought, and castigated herself for running ahead of herself. You don’t even know him.

She swallowed the last salty mouthful of bacon and pressed a paper napkin against her lips. She felt comfortably satiated, as long as she could pass the next hour horizontally. At that thought, she looked across at Jake and felt another spurt of longing for him, despite her full stomach. Impulsively, she reached out for his hand and he looked up in surprise but took it willingly, curling his fingers warmly around hers.

“Good?”

“Ooh, yes. I’m now fully and completely stuffed.”

“Bet you could do with a lie-down now, yeah?”

Bella started laughing. “How did you guess?”

Jake grinned and raised his eyebrows.

“Male intuition. Come on, I’m taking you home to sleep off your hangover. I want you to curl up next to me on the sofa and snooze for as long as you want to.”

Bella smiled. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Don’t you deserve it?”

Jake squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

“If you say so.”

They called for the bill and waited for it in comfortable silence, patting their bloated stomachs and smiling at each other. Bella could feel a cord of closeness and longing stretching out between them, snaking invisibly between their plaited fingers and entwined legs. They were only sitting a foot apart from one another but that was too far; pressed hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder was too far. They were at a distance that could only be surmounted by being melded together, breathing the same air.

They almost ran back from the café, despite their full bellies; pounding down the street hand in hand, falling through the door of the house on Fever Street; stumbling up the many stairs before the bedroom door slammed behind them and they tumbled onto the bed and onto each other, grappling like mountaineers, panting like two people running a race, gasping with relief and thankfulness. Like a pair of parched travellers finding the oasis; falling out of the arid desert and into a blue and shimmering water hole.

Chapter Three

You’ll do anything, when you’re in love. Anything. There’s no line that cannot be crossed. An hour’s separation is an eternity. To be apart is to be cursed; it’s a literal pain, a physical ailment. It drags on you until you gasp with the unfairness and the cruelty of it. If you love someone, you cannot keep them waiting, you cannot put them off – you do not saunter casually to your meeting, you do not leave early or arrive late. Every moment is to be savoured, every second in the beloved presence wrung dry. As if you’ve been poisoned and their company is the only known antidote.

It had been two days. Two days since Bella had kissed Jake goodbye at Waterloo, had clung to him underneath the giant black clock that hung from the ceiling of the station. She felt his absence as a physical ache, strong enough to double her over when she was alone.

She said nothing. She tried to act normally to save her mother any more anguish but sometimes, when they were sat watching some inane game show on television, or listening to the chime of their cutlery on the dinner plates, it was all she could do not to let the ever-threatening tears well up and spill over.

She checked her mobile religiously, willing it to show the little 'message received' icon. When the telephone trilled in the hallway, she froze rigid at the sound. She felt sick most of the time, pushing her food about on her plate, forcing the smallest of small forkfuls into her mouth. She slept badly and dreamt about the tunnels. Their dark lengths lay in wait for her every night.

She could feel her mother watching her and waited for the questions, which didn't take long to arrive.

"What's wrong, Bella?"

"Nothing."

"Come on. You've had a face like a wet weekend for the past week. Is it – are you still having trouble sleeping? There's always counselling - "

"It's nothing, Mum, I'm fine."

She hated herself when she snapped like that but she couldn't always control it.

"You're not fine. You're hardly eating a thing, look at you - you're wasting away."

"I'm fine."

The next day she'd given up. He was never going to call her. Bella slumped in front of the television, listlessly changing channels. She flicked to a children’s cartoon, all flashing colours and weirdly shaped animals. She watched a few minutes of a documentary on Roman Britain and then pressed the button of the remote again, with a sigh of irritation.

The next channel was a news program. On screen was a reporter, clutching a microphone and talking urgently. In the background, there were blue lights and streamers of police tape. Bella sat up, her hands clenched into fists. She heard the words ‘second bombing attempt’ and cried out without realising.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Her mother came racing in from the kitchen. Bella gestured at the television screen, unable to speak. They both watched and listened as the reporter told them what had happened.

After ten minutes, Mrs Hardwick looked at her daughter’s white face and took the remote out of her hand, pressing the off button.

“Are you okay?”

Bella considered for a moment.

“No,” she said and then bolted for the downstairs bathroom as vomit rose inexorably in her throat.