It was after two when Laura finally got away from the house. Professor Ashley, whilst charming and friendly, had proved quite a particular gentleman, asking numerous questions about the heating system, the locks on the back door, how to set the dishwasher. They were all perfectly sensible requests, but she was hardly in the right frame of mind to be patient. Finally, she satisfied all his questions, and was picking up her keys from the table, putting her phone in her pocket. She wasn't entirely sure when Robbie had left, but she hadn't been surprised. Of course he wouldn't stay. She had read his note quickly and tearing it off the pad, she considered throwing it in the bin. Something stopped her, though, and she carefully folded the piece of paper and slipped it in her pocket, trying not to attract the professor's attention. He was exploring the kitchen drawers, and already she felt like an impostor in her own home. Quickly she jotted down her new contact details, her mobile number, and said her goodbyes.


Sliding the car into gear, she drove carefully down the quiet residential street, pausing at the lights, then right onto the main road. The traffic was relatively light, by Oxford standards, and she was grateful. Suddenly alone, she was overwhelmed by her thoughts and she was finding it hard to concentrate. She headed north, picking up the A43, and turned on the radio. She was almost at Bicester before she realised that it was tears that were clouding her vision. She brushed them away, irritated by her own stupidity.

She knew the journey quite well, and she couldn't help but let her mind wander. She could still feel his lips on hers, the comforting weight of his arms around her. Stop it, Laura. She took a deep breath and loosened her grip on the steering wheel. She had made a mistake in inviting him to her house. He had been supportive, helpful, understanding, and she had taken advantage of him in the worst possible way. He was a good man, a confused man, perhaps, but she knew she had crossed a line today. He had been nothing but kind in his note, clearly wanting an explanation but not pressing her for one. And, as always, he had stepped back, left her. The sat nav barked out another direction - she had switched it on amongst the never ending roundabouts in Milton Keynes - and she obeyed. No, Robbie Lewis did not love her, did not want a relationship with her, of that she was certain. Indeed, he had reassured her she was doing the right thing, actually encouraged her to leave. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. And he was right, this was the right thing. Today had proved that beyond all possible measure. She had to get over Robbie. She had to.


By six she was at the house, giving it the once over with the agent. He was a nice lad, eager to please, but where Professor Ashley had been detailed and ponderous, Laura simply wanted to be alone. She barely listened as he explained how to adjust the thermostat, and she practically shooed him out of the door after a few minutes. Quickly and methodically she emptied the car, piling all her belongings into the small but comfortable front room, before finally closing the heavy oak door on the world. The house was small but exactly what she wanted. Two bedrooms, a small study, a decent kitchen. There was even a small terrace in the garden where she could sit outside if the weather held out. She was exhausted, but she knew that sitting down on the inviting sofa would be fatal. Extracting her phone from her bag, she switched it back on. Quickly she typed out her message - 'I'm sorry. Here fine. Will email later. L' - and switched her phone to silent. Wandering into the kitchen, she pulled open a drawer and placed the phone inside, before closing it.


At half past eight she finally collapsed on the sofa, tired but feeling accomplished. All the boxes had been emptied, her clothes in the wardrobe, her sheets on the bed. She toyed with the idea of walking round the corner to the Co-op that she had spotted while parking, but decided she couldn't muster the energy even for that. Hauling herself up, she went to the fridge. One of her first tasks on arrival had been to put a bottle of white in the chiller, and she now felt smug at her forward thinking. She'd brought a few basic supplies with her, and, lacking any appetite for proper food, opted for a large bag of kettle crisps. She poured a generous glass of sauvignon and replaced the bottle in the fridge. Glancing over at the clock on the wall, she opened the drawer in which she'd stashed her phone. She couldn't ignore this any longer.

The wine was good and, flicking on the tv, she began to feel some semblance of normality. The whole day had passed in a blur…a bizarre, exhausting blur. Setting her glass back on the table she inspected her phone. Two missed calls, both from Robbie. She wasn't surprised, he was a good friend. Of course he would have been worried about her. She tapped the phone against her lips, thinking. She had no intention of calling him. It would be too hard, and, quite frankly she had no idea what she might say. Somewhat rashly she'd promised to email him. Taking another long sip of wine she considered her options. It was only fair to explain, to offer some kind of explanation, at least. She reached for her MacBook and fired up her email…


Twenty minutes later, she was still staring at the screen. She wanted to be truthful, but she didn't want to say too much. The whole point of leaving had been to put some distance between them, and she was painfully aware that the wrong turn of phrase would have him worrying. She leant back against the cushions and re-read her efforts:

Robbie,

I know I said I'd write, but I'm not sure what to say. I'm sorry, this morning shouldn't have happened, especially not now. I'm sorry if I have upset you. I value your friendship more than anything, and I don't want you to question that. I'm not going to go into it all here, but the project isn't the only reason I needed to leave Oxford. I've got a few things I need to work through on my own. I don't mean to be cryptic, but please understand that I just need some time away. Please don't call me unless you really need to, you're a good friend Robbie, but it'll be easier if I can sort this out by myself.

Take care,

Laura

She sighed loudly. It was hardly satisfactory, but it was the best she could manage in the circumstances. There was no point telling him everything, laying her heart bare. It wouldn't change anything for the better, and it would certainly make things difficult. All she wanted was some time to get over him, to refocus her life, her career, and then to go back, refreshed and positive about the future. Deep down, that was what she wanted, to go back with an acceptance of the situation. And, although she couldn't exactly say why, she knew instinctively that telling Robbie how she felt about him would somehow make that impossible.

She closed the laptop and laid it carefully on the coffee table. The sofa was surprisingly comfortable, and relaxed back, curling her feet under her. She was exhausted, the stress of the last few months sweeping over her, and she closed her eyes. Not for the first time that day, her mind wandered back to her kitchen, his arms around her, his lips against hers. God, what was I thinking? She took a shaky breath, running her hand though her hair. She was here now. She had done it. It would be ok.