Wednesday morning, Rose brought Rey some more easily digestible breakfast, changing to easily-thrown-up when Rey proved to have great problems keeping things down.

Rey arrived at the shop to find a hot tea and pastry waiting for her, courtesy of Luke who was shame-faced but wouldn't tell her why he'd been so grumpy the day before. He spent most of the day in the office, leaving her to manage in the shop by distracting herself, and it wasn't until just before she left that he yelled at her for making a full archway over the front entrance with the innumerable copies of 50 Shades and Da Vinci Code.

"You don't expect to sell them, surely!"

"But they're books! You should respect them!"

"Oh come on, Luke. No-one's going to buy them. These were probably thrown out of some thrift shop downtown and they dumped them here as a joke."

"It's not a joking matter." Luke scowled at the creation, and pushed it hard.

It didn't move.

"You're getting a bad attitude about books, Rey. It's obvious my nephew's terrible influence has rubbed off onto you." He retreated to the cash register, and pressed the end-of-day tally commands. "Next you'll be telling me you've thrown a book out."

"I've done worse than that. I took an axe to one once!"

"OUT!"

She laughed as she skipped away, glad she had the next five days off. Thursday and Friday were her normal weekend, and then she didn't have to come back to the shop until the next Tuesday. She wasn't going to tell Luke that the book was by Barbara Cartland, and she'd been so horrified by the waste of a good prompt and the lukewarm concept of the whole book that she'd had to pay full price for, that she chopped it up and kept one of the chunks blu-tacked to her bookcase as a warning to all the others.

Thursday she spent at home, cleaning and cooking so that she could collapse on Saturday afternoon and not have to think about anything. A pile of tins of chicken soup stood beside her hotplate, her tiny fridge held chilled ravioli and sauce and juice, and there was a small stack of over-the-counter painkillers beside the sink. The bathroom cupboard held three large boxes of sanitary pads. Rose had promised to check on her a few times too. When she finally finished in the afternoon, she still had an urge, an itch to do something, make something, create …

Write.

There were feelings here, and her feelings were safest thrown into a song. She sat at her table, notepad and manuscript book at hand, and her guitar resting against the chair. Her electric keyboard sat behind the paper, and she reached over occasionally to hit a chord, an arpeggio, the progression that ended up leading to notes that soared through the darkening of evening and around her heart. When she wrote the final line, she had to wipe her tears from the page. Not tears of sorrow – tears of frustration for having to justify herself, make it clear she was making decisions for her life.

I'm me. I'm allowed to be me. No-one else gets to decide that for me ever again.

Packing up the instruments and putting the notepad and sheet of manuscript in the guitar case, she heated up a tin of soup and had an early night. Between her body and her mind, she was overwrought and trembling.


By Friday night, Rey was far more composed. She had an early tea with Rose and Paige, suspicious that their usual simple omelette was this time a small feast of bún bò Huế made entirely at home. She slurped up the thick noodles and grinned.

"I thought you needed cheering up." Paige, Rose's older sister, pointed over to their kitchen bench. "I made mango chè for dessert."

"Found family is definitely the best." Rey poked around the broth, scooping up chunks of pork and scallions. "This is amazing."

Rose reached over the small dining table and squeezed Rey's hand. "I'll be coming to tonight's show, too. If you want."

"Oh. Hell. I didn't tell you."

"No show?"

"No, not that. Ben was going to meet me there, but I forgot to ring him."

"You saw him again?"

"Yeah. He took me to lunch on Tuesday."

"And you forgot to fill us in on all the gossip and then you forget to ring him too?" Rose laughed. "So spill."

Ten minutes later, both Rose and Paige were on the couch, trying to hold their stomachs while laughing, and Rey was wondering if she could make it to the mango chè without them noticing.

"And all that time, you could have met him?"

"Rose, do you want me to leave you any dessert or not?"

"After that confession, I don't think you deserve any. Split it three ways though – we're just got time to bolt it down before we leave."

The two friends walked to the Cantina together, leaving Paige with her preferred Friday night of a new book. Rose sighed at the late-summer humidity, and held Rey's hand as they sauntered along.

"I'll be at your door at seven tomorrow."

"But I'm not due at the clinic until eight."

"Yeah, but I think you'll need the support." Rose squeezed Rey's hand. "I'm not being an escort tomorrow, but I've been one often enough to know that having someone with you on that walk through the gauntlet is a huge help."

"I hope you don't have to do this yourself, hon, but I'll be there for you if you ever do." Rey squeezed back, and they turned into the bar and headed for the performance space. It was half-full – the show wasn't until nine and it was only eight-thirty. Rose settled into her regular table at the side of the front, and Rey hit the bathroom before setting up.

Her face was pale, and for the first time in ages she rummaged in her bag for lipstick and tried to put some colour back on. The eyes that stared back at her were large, anxious and tired.

"After tomorrow, things will be back to normal. This is my life, and I'm the one to live it." She blew a kiss to her reflection and headed for the stage.

The set was going well, with more applause than she was used to so late in the vacation break, and Rey was floating on that high that you get being on a stage with people appreciating you. She hadn't been sure of the last song for the night. Normally she ended on something upbeat, but tonight she wanted honest.

"Thanks for listening, everyone. Things have been a bit crazy lately, so I did what I do so often. Not make bad decisions, although I've excelled at that too. No, I've channelled what's happening into a song. This will be the first time I've played it, so you're the first people to hear it, and I hope it says to you what it's saying to me."

She sat on the stool with her guitar, and set the lyrics on the stand in front of her. Checking the E string that always tried to come loose, she took a deep breath and started.

I make all the bad decisions,
And then live with their results,
But worst of all, I make them on my own.
For once I should be sharing, because
I know you'd be caring,
So why am I still doing this alone?

We brought it on together,
When our bodies met and fused,
Both responsible, and both consenting full.
So why can't I now tell you
Even though it's my decision,
And I know you couldn't change my mind at all.

But I have my own life to live
And dreams I couldn't do without.
It took too long for me to find my way,
I don't want you to lead me,
Or follow where I go.
Just walk beside me, stay with me today.

The room was silent when she finished. For a beat, two, she stayed looking down at her hands on the strings, wondering if she'd gone too far, but then there was whistling and cheering and loud clapping, and she looked up to see the room on their feet and applauding her. Rose was standing too, clapping and crying at once.

And then she spotted the face at the back of the room.

And rolled her eyes.

Quickly packing the guitar away and shutting the piano lid, she jumped off the stage and over to Rose, hugging her.

"What's wrong?"

"'E's here. At the back. And he's brought some girl. How dare he?"

Rose looked over her shoulder and Rey turned, knowing what she'd see.

He loomed over her as he always did, using his height difference to try and make her feel insignificant. But she knew better now.

"Hello."

"Rey. Can we talk?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Not here."

"Well, it's not like I have a dressing room or anything." Rey folded her arms and scowled.

"Out this door, then."

"Fine, Enric. But I don't think there's anything you have to say that I need to hear."

They walked through the door into the greasy, dim alley. For once there were no furtive smokers or passionate college students rutting against the bar's dumpster. Rey walked to the middle of the alley so as not to give Enric a chance to trap her against one of the walls, and turned.

"So. Talk."

"You were wonderful tonight."

"You could have said that inside."

"Fine." He paused, then coughed. "I think we should get back together."

"I thought you were going to move in with Bazine."

"She … I didn't think she was the right one for me. But you were." He looked uneasy, and Rey decided to go for the kill.

"And yet you were here tonight with … was that Kaydel Connix? The first year you had me tutor because she didn't understand the subtle themes in Lolita? What about her?" Supressing a snicker, Rey pressed on. "I would have thought you had a whole class in Advanced American Literature to work your way through before you thought I was worth coming back to. After all, didn't you drop me because I couldn't see the beauty in the overwrought pretentious sludge that is Reeder Stephenson's work? That you constantly described as full of imagination, vivid characterizations, and fast pacing? The guy wrote as if he'd blended a thesaurus and a full set of 1980s Penthouse magazines and just regurgitated the lot!"

"You had no feel for his inferred and inspired metaphors!" The older man looked as if he had been slapped. "Although by tonight's offering, you've been keeping yourself busy."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well you weren't exactly subtle, were you? How long did it take you?" He was almost spitting by now, and she was beginning to regret having come out to the alley.

"What?"

"How long before you were shagging the first man who would fall for your wiles, getting yourself knocked up by him? Did you trap him? Fool him into offering to marry you?" Enric had her backing up until a low clang told her she'd reached the dumpster, but it didn't stop him. "Four weeks. Four weeks since we parted, and you're up the duff already. I thought you were a slut, and I was right."

Rey felt the fury bubble up inside her, giving her power she never knew she had. "You know, Enric, I'm glad you dumped me. Not the way you did it. I should have walked out on you months ago, while you were still complaining about your wife, and saying you would leave her. I should have believed you then, and realised you would walk out on me, on Bazine, you'll probably do it to Kaydell … You just want to keep upgrading to a newer, younger model and you can't even keep the ones you do get. I wouldn't be surprised if your wife left you, instead of the other way around."

She poked a finger into his chest as she continued. "And no, I don't want to get back with you. I wouldn't want to ever be with such a selfish, inconsiderate, self-centred git who doesn't want a partner in life – you only want a trophy! You only think of yourself and your own needs, especially in bed. Well, you can think again. I might be pregnant, but I can make decisions for myself, so after tomorrow I won't be. And for your information, I didn't trap him. He's lovely, and kind and supportive, and he cares about me. Not how good I can make him look, or what I can do for him." She felt herself choking up, and struggled to get the next part out. "And if I can just stop being an idiot for five minutes, I might be able to tell him that. But you, you piece of shit …"

He'd started backing away from her as she spoke, and by the end of her diatribe, Enric Pryde had his own back against the alley wall and was looking from side to side for a way to escape. But Rey wasn't finished yet.

"Your offer has been noted, and the answer is no." She dropped her hand and turned away from him to walk back into the club, but he grabbed her arm and swung her around.

Only to find his own forearm enclosed in a very large hand.