((none of the poems i use are mine. authors are listed on my profile. twilight is stephenie meyer's but then i'm presuming you already knew that, not being an idiot :] ))

.

And I have known the eyes already, known them all--

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

And how should I presume?

.

"I can't believe this, Jake! You got arrested?"

Jacob smashed his huge fist against the table, and cracks snapped out around the point of impact. "I already got told off at the station, so don't waste your breath doing it again," he spat. He glared down at the broken wood; his hand still clenched tight, his knuckles pushing out against his skin. His brows were shading his eyes and his lips were thin and set. His chest rose and fell, as each angry breath was quickly heaved in and out. His shoulders, broad and square, were tense.

I ran my hands through my hair and stared at him. I waited for him to continue, perhaps explain how and why and what the hell, but he did not speak again. The kitchen was very quiet. The bulb in the ceiling cast a circle of orange light around us, and outside the window the night was a black blanket draped over the world.

My mind grasped out desperately in the silence, searching for explanations. How could he have got himself arrested? Jacob wasn't the brightest lightbulb in the box, but he wasn't stupid - he knew what would get him in trouble, he knewhow tight the cops were in areas like this. I stared down at his bowed head, trying to fathom out what could possibly have gone wrong. He didn't look up at me; he just carried on glaring at the table. I felt almost like a mom dealing with a disobedient child.

I hated it when he got all defensive like this. My Jacob, the Jacob I had grown to love, seemed to evaporate completely. I was left with a hostile person who I didn't particularly revel in the company of. He could not honestly expect me to leave him alone; you can't just walk into your home two entire hours late, with the news that you've been detained by the police, and then not expect your girlfriend to be annoyed. Especially if your girlfriend has recently become your fiancée. I had every right to be mad. I didn't fancy marrying a convict. Besides, I was the daughter of a Police Chief- I had grown up with the law as my Bible.

He still didn't say anything, and he was in danger of staring a hole into the table. I sighed, and tried to take the offensive again. "You can't just waltz in here with this kind of news and expect me to drop it." I said, but there was no response. "What did you do? What were you thinking?"

He didn't look up at me. His eyes were fixed on the cracked wood and his face was unchanging, quivering slightly with anger. "Bella, I've had this conversation with so many cops already, it gets old," he said, finally, through lips that were so close together I was surprised the words managed to squeeze through.

I raised my eyebrows, scraping the chair opposite him out across the lino and throwing myself into it. I stared at his head, waiting for him to raise his eyes. I loved him, of course I did, but it was when he behaved like this that I began to wonder whether I could put up with him for my whole life. When he felt like it he could be a bit of a git.

"What did you do?" I demanded. When he didn't reply, I reached across the table and forced his face upwards with my hand. His skin was rough and stubbly under my fingers. He met my gaze defiantly; his dark eyes rebellious, lips thin. "Jacob, come on, what happened? How am I supposed to even begin to understand this if you won't explain it to me?"

Jacob turned his head away, staring out of the small kitchen window into the evening light. I opened my mouth to question him again, but he cut me off before I could say a word.

"I lost my temper, okay?" he said, his voice low, quick and sharp, his eyes fixed on some dark shape outside. "There was… this… this…" he paused, and glanced at me; looked down at the table, out the window, and then back at me again.

"What?" I asked, waiting for him to continue.

He grimaced before he spoke. And when he did, his voice was quieter, more hesitant. Careful. "This…guy. And he said… stuff…" He blinked, facing the table again, and his eyes had lost their aggressive look. He raised his head and I saw they were wide, pleading with me to understand. This was the sensitive Jacob I knew and loved, and I breathed an inward sigh of relief that the conversation was turning rational. "I dunno, Bells, I guess I was just wound up. I haven't been getting much sleep, and this guy…he pissed me off. I punched him, he hit back... then the cops turned up."

I groaned. "Jake…"

He bit his lip, looking for all his life like a puppy that had just done something naughty on the carpet. "I'm sorry, Bella."

I reached out a hand and laid it across his clenched fist. I looked over his face, trying to read it. He shot me a small smile, his teeth white against his russet skin. Then he abruptly broke the gaze, shifting in his chair. He scratched his arm, gazing back out of the window.

My eyes narrowed. Broken gazes were the body traits of liars, I'd read enough novels to know that. There was something he wasn't telling me. "Jake, what else?" Silence. Jacob was still looking away, almost completely still, unresponsive. "Jacob, can you please stop ignoring me, I-"

I stopped, as I spotted a tear trickling slowly down his cheek, reflecting the orange glow of the light. I blinked. "Jacob?" I leaned over the table, brow creased, alarmed. "Why are you crying?" I tightened both my hands around his large one, squeezing tight. "Come on, Jake, talk to me, please."

He ripped his hand from under mine, pulling away from the table and standing up to his full, enormous height. He pushed his fingers fiercely through his hair, and his expression was inexplicably furious, tears building in his eyes.

A loud crack resounded around the silent kitchen as his chair, which he had sent flying when he stood, hit the floor.

I watched him, mouth open, unsure how to respond. He was taking me completely by surprise. Jacob had been so contented, so happy lately. An almost constant euphoria had ruled his emotions for the past half-year, ever since he'd asked I'd said 'yes'. He had convinced himself that I was finally moving on, and I hadn't ruined his delusion; not as far as I knew, anyway. So I didn't have any idea what had made him so upset. Surely getting arrested wouldn't affect him this much; it wasn't like he'd never been in trouble before.

The silence in the kitchen was suddenly slashed as he ripped open his mouth and began yelling furiously. I jumped.

"I was so sure I'd got over it! I was sure that it wasn't ever going to happen again, that I'd gotten in control," his voice was bitter. "But it turns out that I'm still the same, that nothing's changed at all! It's just such crap! And of all the shitty things in the world, I never thought- I thought I was clear, we were clear, that we could move on and be happy, just you and me!" His voice broke on the last word, and his face collapsed.

I pulled my chair out and ran over to him. "Hey, Jake, hey hey hey," I said, my attempt at soothing him somewhat pathetic. "Hey, come on, what is it?" I put both my hands on his shoulders. It wasn't often I had to comfort Jacob- it was usually the other way around, seeing as I was the one who had the most issues, the one who was the most messed up.

But it would be so much easier to help him if I had a clue as to what was the problem.

"Jacob, I don't understand." I fought hard to keep the frustration out of my voice, but didn't fully succeed. I searched his face, having to strain my neck to see him properly. His face was lit in the sickly-warm glow of the kitchen light, and his body cast a shadow over me.

He clenched his hands into fists in his hair. "Bella, that… guy," he spat the word, "He- he got me so mad, and then I couldn't stop worrying that you'd be… angry with me, because I acted like a complete…well, idiot, that maybe you might… that maybe I'd screwed up so badly that you might- I mean, I got arrested, and you've seen all those wives on T.V....I just... I thought that you might be too mad to move on, and…" He broke off. I was about to violently negate everything he just said, but he carried on before I could start. "I got out of the police station before anyone saw, but…but… I did the werewolf thing again, Bella."

There was a slight pause while I absorbed this. And then I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Oh, Jake…"

I held him tight, and his hands fell limply to his side. Now that I knew, I noticed that his skin was hot again. He had been getting steadily colder ever since he had given up being half-wolf, but now he was as scorching as he had been as a teenager.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, so, so sorry, and I'd completely understand if you wanted to… wanted to call it all off-"

"Call what off?"

He sniffed violently, and ran his fingers through my hair. "The wedding."

I pulled away from him, meeting his wet eyes and giving him a weak smile. "Jacob, why would I want to do that?"

He stared at me hopelessly. "Because I promised you that I'd give it up! Move past the wolf thing for you, for the wedding. The fact that I wasn't aging pissed you off, and even though I look old, I'm really still a teenager, and you're, what, twenty-two?" I winced; I did not like to be reminded of my age. "The whole reason we moved away from Forks was to get away from all the supernatural crap. And I don't want you in love with another monster. Loads of reasons."

I tried not to react to the mention of Edward. Even though Jacob knew instinctively not to say his name anymore, he still let slip these little mentions, and it was so, so hard to concentrate on Jacob's inner turmoil when a huge hole in my chest was banging away like a medieval gong. I closed my eyes, putting the familiar pain under control, and then focused on reassuring him.

"Jacob, I have spent too many sleepless nights planning this whole ceremony to call it off for anything short of our deaths, understood? Besides," I stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "You aren't a monster, and even if you were I wouldn't care. I love you. I wouldn't want to stop this wedding even if we were just going to Vegas."

It made me feel awful when I lied to him. But I had decided long before now that this marriage was not for me. I had lost my chance at true happiness long ago; the least I could do was to keep Jacob in high spirits. That was the reason I insisted on the white dress and church; not because I wanted them, because God knows I did not. But they made Jacob happy, and that was the whole point.

He put a hand behind my head and guided my lips to his mouth. I closed my eyes while he kissed me, trying to enjoy it as I should. And trying to stop comparing this to other kisses I had had. Because that wasn't fair.

I pulled away after a moment, resting my hands around his cheeks. Our faces were close; Jacob was bending down and I was looking up, and I saw his eyelashes flutter as my breath fell on them. "Giving up being a werewolf was never going to be easy, Jacob." I whispered. "You'll get there eventually, but the whole wolf thing is part of who you are. It isn't going to go away after just a couple of years, you know that."

Jacob looked into my eyes for a second more, bit his lip, and then slowly nodded. I lifted my hand and wiped away his tears, and he smiled weakly. "Sorry," he mumbled, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me against his chest. He spoke over my shoulder. "I overreacted. I just get so worried about losing you."

I frowned at the kitchen door, unable to see his face because he had me clasped to his body. "Why would you lose me?" The position was uncomfortable and I hoped he would let go.

He shrugged. "Same reason as always." There was a pause. He seemed to expect me to already know the answer.

"What reason?" I asked. He sighed.

"I'm not good enough for you."

I struggled and pulled away, incredulous. I stared up into his eyes; Jacob, my rock, my lifejacket in the sea of hopelessness in which I had floated for so long, and the one constant I had to look to. The sweet, caring boy who had turned into the strong, kind man I loved so much. The thought someone like Jacob would think himself unworthy of me… me, the girl who spent almost all of her time wishing she could have her old boyfriend back, the girl who still had a hole in her chest that she refused to let Jacob fill, no matter how hard he worked at their relationship. His thinking that he didn't deserve me was like Jesus thinking himself undeserving of a lap-dancer. Utterly ridiculous.

"Jacob…" I said, without knowing how to finish the sentence. "I…"

He shook his head. "I know what you're going to say, and we'll never agree on it. Can we just go to bed? I have a court hearing tomorrow."

"Court?" I asked, surprised. "Why are you going to court?"

Jacob's fists clenched, but his face remained calm. "Y'know, charges were pressed. And the cops never like to miss a chance to tell me what a bad boy I am."

I pulled a sympathetic face. "It'll be over soon. Tomorrow, that's really soon."

Jacob scowled. "What can I say, that guy must have had influence." He looked angry again, and I was about to tell him that under no circumstances could he spit inside the house, when he sighed. "I suppose it's for the best. I'll just get the thing over with and hope the fine isn't too big. God knows we can't afford it." He put his hand around my waist and we walked out of the kitchen. "I guess I should just be glad we aren't in Forks. Your Dad would not have been impressed."

...

Morning spreads weary and pale over the suburbs. Inside the small, squat houses, televisions blip into life and cereal packets are slammed onto worktops. A wolf rolls over as the girl next to him slips out of bed. Children hear their parents wake and glance at their alarms, but it's too early, far too early, and they roll over and sleep leaks through their minds once again.

A teenage boy walks quickly up the street, pulling down the zip on his tracksuit top. He absently throws newspapers into front yards, grinning if they land on doorsteps and speeding up if they land in flowerbeds. Dogs bark at him from behind closed gates as he goes past, their cries piercing through closed curtains and unconscious ears. The old woman who lives in number three hundred and seven glances up from her fag and smiles at the boy as he passes. He smiles back.

A cat walks slowly along the pavement, its movements slick and smooth, the fur around its feet wet from the puddles in the road, the bell around its neck tinkling as it walks. It crosses the path of the boy as he walks along. He cheerily tells it to get the fuck out of the way and it glances up at him haughtily, slinks away.

A van rumbles along the road and heads towards a city which looms on the horizon.

...

It was only the next morning, the sky gloomy and overcast and a light rain sheeting down outside, that I began to question Jacob's excuses.

I always woke up first. Sleeping hadn't been a particular talent of mine for four years, and even though being with Jacob seemed to have stopped the incessant nightmares, I never slept comfortably. But that was okay; make-up hid the dark circles under my eyes, and Jacob always needed a big breakfast.

As I boiled eggs and toasted toast, I thought about his justification for the whole getting-arrested-then-exploding-into-supernatural-being exploit last night. It suddenly seemed so improbable, that some random stranger had got to Jake so badly that he had lost control and transformed for the first time in about two years. Sure, Jacob wasn't the calmest person, but he wasn't the no-fuse fist-fight jailbird that yesterday seemed to have made of him. Of course, when he was younger he'd got into fights with his friends; but only when they were all huge wolves and couldn't do each other any harm. This was different. This was aggression that he was going to court for, and the "I haven't been getting much sleep" defence did not seem as credible in the bare light of day. There was more to this. There had to be.

"Morning, Bells."

I rearranged my expression from that of uneasy confusion to one of relaxed happiness, and turned to hug a yawning Jacob. He smiled, crushing me against his incredibly hot body, and kissed my forehead. "May I say that your ring looks especially wonderful today? Especially teamed with this gorgeous pajama look you've got going here," he joked, and I laughed. He smiled against my skin, and sniffed the air. "Eggs?" He asked hopefully. I nodded, glancing over at the clock.

"They need a couple more minutes."

Jacob went and sat down at our small table. Everything about our house was small. It was a little bungalow, on the dejected outskirts of the city, with a kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. We had about as much money as you can fit in the back pocket of your jeans; I was taking a correspondence college course and balancing a receptionist job at the local hospital, and Jacob was working full time in a nearby garage. What with the house and the course and the imminent wedding, we were deeper in debt than I liked to think about. The lack of room wasn't top of my list of complaints.

"You know, I almost forgot about the court thing…I'll have to ring work." Jacob groaned, leaning back in his chair. "Tell them I'm ill or something. I'll probably have to work this weekend to make up for it." He ran his hands through his hair -it wasn't as long as it used to be, but it still reached his chin- and scowled. "Which means I'll miss the suit fitting or the stupid flower woman-"

"Hey," I interrupted, "don't worry. I can handle it. If you make up on Saturday, and I make up on Sunday, then you can do the fitting-"

"What are you making up for?" He asked, looking confused. "You haven't skipped work or been ill since you started there."

"Wake up, Jake, I'll have to make up today because I'm coming to your hearing," I reminded him, bringing the eggs off the boil and pouring the water down the sink.

"You are not!" He suddenly yelled with startling force. I jumped about a foot in the air, dropping the pan on my foot and yelping. The eggs rolled out onto the floor, and the remaining water landed on my bare feet and splashed out everywhere. It scalded my skin and I yelped again, jumping out of the way.

"Jake, what the-" spinning around, I saw Jacob on his feet, eyes wide and already shouting. I had missed the first part of his tirade when my foot was being battered and burned by the pan and its contents, but caught the rest quite clearly.

"…can't go, I don't want you there, I didn't even think you thought you were coming-"

"Well of course I'm coming!" I shouted back, my teeth gritted against the pain from my foot. I lifted my leg and rubbed it but it didn't appease the burning. "What, did you think I was going to make you go to court on your own-"

"I don't need a babysitter!" He bellowed at me.

I backed away slightly, intimidated by his sudden and unprovoked anger. "Jake, why are you getting so worked up? It's not like I'm asking to come with you to some sort of embarrassing doctors examination, I'm just trying to be supportive-"

"I don't want you there, Bella! I don't need the support, and I don't want you to come, okay?"

"But why?"

"I just don't want you there!"

I stared at him, as his chest heaved and he glowered at me. His dark-skinned face had paled, and I realised with shock that he was actually scared. This was the second time in the space of about ten hours that he had hugely overreacted to something. What was going on? What was it about this whole business that irked him, worried him, so much? Why was some stupid tiff with an absolute stranger causing him to so utterly change character?

I quietly made my decision. I was going to find out. I was going to that courtroom today, and if that meant I had to ride my bike instead of going in his Rabbit, then so be it.

"Alright," I said, quietly, raising my hands. "Alright, Jacob. Just calm down."

There was a silence. His gaze drifted down to the floor, and to the carnage of breakfast, and he pulled in his lips. His face lost the paleness and grew red as he flushed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone timid now.

"Fine," I answered, and my voice was curter than I had intended. "Just… sit down." I picked up the pan, and the four remaining intact eggs. Laying them in the sink, I picked up the mess of shell and egg white that was all over the floor. The silence in the kitchen grew steadily louder and more uncomfortable. I heard the scrape as Jacob pulled his chair in, and sat.

The toast was burnt, so I threw it away and put more bread in the toaster. I laid the eggs on plates. I could hear Jacob moving uncomfortably behind me, but my irritation that he was hiding something from me prevented me from telling him he was forgiven.

"What do you want to drink?" I asked him, walking over to the tiny fridge, and trying not to limp.

"No, Bella…" there was another scrape, and he was abruptly by my side. "Sit down. I'll do this."

"Jacob-"

I looked up into his face to argue, but his dark eyes were so full of shame and remorse I didn't have the heart, so I nodded, and did as he asked. I watched his huge form as he grabbed the juice cartons and glasses, and carried on getting breakfast ready.

I was really worried now. Of course, we had both been getting tenser and tenser over the past couple of months; organising a wedding was far more trouble than I had imagined. Late nights and ceremonial arrangements and meetings with flower people and dress people and cake people, coupled with work and our constant money worries, were gnawing away at the lengths of our patience, like mice and electric cables. But still, Jacob had been irrationally and inexplicably weird over this whole thing. Since he had decided to give up werewolf-dom and settle down with me, he had been becoming steadily cooler and calmer. He had fallen into the routine of regular, non-paranormal life so well he had even made me feel more at home. He had made this whole marriage thing feel less like a betrayal.

Well, it had made me feel like I was betraying Jacob less. I still saw the perfect, pale face in my head, and still felt like I was breaking a very important tenth commandment. I had to remind myself constantly that I did not belong to Edward Cullen anymore. That bond had been severed long, long ago, and although it still hurt to think about him, it was long since time to at least pretend to move on. For Charlie, for Renée, and for Jacob.

But Jacob's absurd behaviour unsettled me. I needed to be at this trial. I needed to try and work out what was wrong, because he didn't seem to want to talk about it, and it was causing a rift between us.

"There you go," he said, bringing me out of my reverie and laying orange juice, buttered toast and two eggs on the table in front of me. He sat opposite, putting down his own identical meal, and started to eat. I smiled weakly at him, and handed over my extra egg.

"You sure?" He asked.

"Sure," I said. "I'm not hungry."

He smiled back at me, and we continued a disjointed and uncomfortable conversation, avoiding the topic which most needed discussing. He seemed to be trying to make up for the argument, judging by the ridiculous amount of compliments he threw into the dialogue; but still he did not invite me along to the trial.

The ordeal was finally ended when he went off to call his work. I washed up quickly, so I could shower and get dressed. I doused the plates in cold water (it might make me shiver and perhaps not get rid of as many bacteria, but it costs less, and I didn't really care about Jacobs germs; it wasn't like he didn't stick his tongue into my mouth on a regular basis) and put the dishes away still wet. I left the kitchen quickly, shutting the door behind me.

I walked past the bedroom on my way to the bathroom, and almost chuckled as I heard Jacob fake-coughing into the phone. It was definitely wiser for him to lie. He might get fired if the garage owner found out he had been fighting in public, and I seriously doubted I could go long without food if we weren't able to afford it.

The bathroom was the smallest room in our small home- barely two foot square, and the shower door only partially opened as it was blocked by the sink. I breathed in as I slid inside.

I turned the shower on lukewarm, but then gave up and turned the heat on full blast. I was too stressed to be economical right now. I relaxed under the hot stream, lathering up shampoo in my hair, and let my head hang back so the water fell onto my face. It poured down onto my skin and I screwed up my eyes, feeling it rush down my face and fall off my chin. My body loosened up as the drops pattered down it, warming and waking me fully. The windows of the shower misted over and dribbled, and the air around me was full of steamy particles of drifting water. The soapy water from my hair streamed across my chest, along my arms. I realised I had been unconsciously frowning, and the sudden release when I relaxed my forehead was brilliant.

My mind wandered as I stood in the stream of water, and I absently meandered along tracks of thought which my mind mapped out for me. Staring absently at the milky condensation, I took random turnings and thought on one thing which was connected to another, which led to another. I pondered the wedding and work and colleagues and Jacob and whether I needed a new front light on my bike and wondered if we needed milk and wondered what Jacob was going to do, what was going on in Jacob's head, why Jacob was so worked up, what could possibly have happened. The water ran thick and fast through my hair, over my eyelids, down my legs, and pooled at my feet. I watched it flow down the plughole and sighed, running my hands over my face. I couldn't stay in here forever.

I leant my head back, making sure all the soap was out of my hair, and turned the shower off. The final drops of water pattered against the shower floor and the plug choked as it gushed down it. Everything was suddenly very quiet, and I breathed in the heavy, wet air.

I squeezed out of the shower quickly and the air outside it was cold. I wrapped my towel around my body and shivered.

The mirror above the sink had fogged over, and I wiped the condensation off with my arm. Catching my reflection, I stared at my face, and the serene expression I wore vanished as I peered at my countenance.

I looked older. Not old, not wrinkly or anything, but older. Not a teenager anymore. None of that immature roundness was left in my features. My face was longer, thinner, the cheekbones more prominent. The dark circles under my eyes didn't make it any better, either, and they were more visible against my pale skin than they were on most other people. My hair was cut shorter than I had had it as a teenager, not quite reaching my shoulders, and curling at the ends; water trickled from it and ran down my shoulders. My appearance had changed a lot, and it did not make me happy. I wasn't the same person I had been with Edward, and I liked this Bella less. She was tired, old, and stressed. I missed carefreeness. I had almost forgotten what it felt like not to be exhausted.

I sighed, turning away from the mirror, and stared at my tiny bathroom. Back then, four years ago, it had felt like I had so much ahead of me, so much to look forward to, so many opportunities. Now I was stuck in a receptionist job, which pushed me to socialise and talk to people and generally be outgoing, something which was definitely not me. I was heading into a marriage that I did not want. I owed so much money to so many people it made me dizzy to think of it. I had lost so much; I almost felt cheated. I deserved to do so much better than this. I was a smart person, I had always worked hard.

And it almost felt good to blame Edward for my failure, tell myself that he had screwed everything up. It wasn't really his fault, but it was still comforting to lay all the guilt on his shoulders. To think back and point to that forest and think, there, that's where it all went wrong, right there, and it's not my fault I'm a disappointment.

"Bella!" Jacob's rough voice called for me, muffled by the door.

I took a deep breath, let it out, and fixed a wide smile onto my face. "Yes?" I replied, taking the one stride necessary to reach the door, and walking out into the hallway. The even colder air hit me like a slap in the face, and goosebumps sprang up on my arms. Jacob was stood there, waiting. He glanced down at my towel, and grinned in a way which made me wish I was wearing more. Then he gestured to his faded grey suit and the off-white shirt underneath.

"How do I look?" he asked, trying to be jokey.

"Very professional," I told him.

He looked down at his clothes, and shoved his suit sleeves up to his elbows, baring his dark, muscled forearms. I sighed inwardly at the thought of all the creases that would cause. Oh well; he had beaten someone up. I'm sure the judge wasn't expecting some Ivy League graduate who dressed entirely in Prada. They weren't expecting Jake to be Edward Cullen.

"Well… bye," he said, pushing up one side of his mouth in a grin-and-bear-it sort of way. His cheek piled on top of the end of his smile. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck," I said, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Who knows, maybe they'll let you off."

Jacob grimaced. "Not likely," he said, then a slow smile grew across his face. "I started it," he said, with a sort of relish I disliked, his eyes lighting up and his smile turning proud. I narrowed my eyes slightly at him, and he caught it, his face quickly returning to its regular expression, and continued. "And the other guy…. he has… y'know, money, power." He shrugged. "It's done now. I'm just sorry to cause you more worry."

I was so glad I never let him know just how worried about everything I really was. It would break his heart. "Don't worry about me." I told him, taking his hand and squeezing it. "You better go; you don't want to be late."

He sighed. "No, guess not." He bent down and kissed my lips. I tried to respond enthusiastically, and pulled it off reasonably well. Jacob pulled away after a while. "I'm sorry about this whole thing," he apologized again. "And thanks," he added.

"For what?"

"For just… being so understanding about it all. I screwed up, and you handled it much better than I deserve. I really, really am so, so-"

"Jacob, you'll be late," I interrupted, "You don't need to apologize to me; save it for the judge, we could really do with the fine being lowered." He smiled, nodded, said "bye" one last time, and then he was gone. I stood by the door, and listened for the sound of the Rabbit starting and leaving. There was the bang of Jacob forcing shut the ill-fitting door, the revving of the engine, and then the scrape as the car pulled off the gravel and out onto the road. I rushed into the bedroom.

I rang the hospital quickly, and putting on a weak voice and violent cough. They bought it, and I thanked heaven when they asked me to work Sunday- Jacob could do his suit fitting. Then I threw on the only jeans I owned, and a shirt and sweater. I grabbed my biker boots and struggled to get my feet into them. I tied them halfway up, grabbed my jacket and helmet, and ran out of the house, locking the door behind me.

My bike was leaning, chained, against the back of the bungalow. I threw on the jacket and jammed the helmet onto my head, where it flattened my wet hair against my scalp, and switched on the engine. I unlocked the chain, and pulled the bike away from the wall, struggling slightly with the weight of it. I swung my leg over the seat, and twisted the handle into gear, jolting as the engine growled, hissed, and roared. I flicked the handle, and sped round the house and out of the gateway and along the road as fast as was possible. I was going to get to the bottom of this, and Jacob wasn't going to stop me.

...

The city is just groaning into life.

Pigeons are shuffling over damp grey pavestones and nibbling at rubbish which was dropped during the night. Curtains are being pulled open and the sun is slicing weak and pale into sleep-warmed homes. Early morning DJ's play upbeat music and couples in bed groan, lash out, exclaim that it can't be morning, not yet, I swear five minutes ago I was just going to sleep, and why the hell are they putting dance music on at this hour of the morning, are they insane? Shops are switching on lights, opening tills, checking stock, rifling through CD racks and saying that today is definitely an ABBA day because they feel like shit. Blinking workers are locking doors behind them and counting change, trying to remember how much a skinny grande caffé mocha with whipped cream and chocolate costs, exactly, and wondering whether they'd have time to drink it before the bus leaves.

The sun parts the clouds wearily, stretching out weak arms and pushing them aside, and the valley in which the city lies is lit up in a cool bleak ray of white. The wind ruffles sleepily through the air and the persistent rain falls lightly, as if it can't quite be bothered.

A black Mercedes winds through the half-empty streets of the city, the sun glinting off the shined bumpers. The windows are shaded and the windscreen wipers slide back and forth, back and forth, so that we can catch glimpses of pale faces. White teeth. Red lips. Golden eyes.

A few miles outside the city a ramshackle and rusted car, which has been pulled back from the dead with worn out seats and an engine which inhales fuel, jitters slowly and irregularly along the highway. The radio crackles bad music from a badly tuned station and the tall, russet skinned man inside glares at the road as he drives on. He is trying to ready himself for the hours ahead.

Behind him a determined young woman with wet hair and dangling laces swerves out of her driveway, spraying gravel out onto the pavement.

The day has arrived and everything is beginning.

((review?))