Don't Be Afraid by Daniela Sacerdoti Page A

just a year ago that I would not be drawing any more, that I would be too scared to do so, I would have never believed them.
    But this is how I live now.
    â€œI would rather not leave you, you’re just back . . .” Angus said.
    â€œReally, Angus. It’s okay. I’ll dry my hair and tidy up and give the place a clean.”
    A shadow passed over his face. “You’ll exhaust yourself again.”
    â€œNo, I promise. Honestly. I won’t do it . . . that way. Just normal cleaning. Like normal people do.” I shrugged and gave a little wan laugh. He didn’t even smile. “If you can’t even go to the shops, how are you going to manage your place at the RSNO?”
    A pause. Cold spread through my bones as I realised what I’d said, the implications of it.
    â€œGood question,” he said, and once again he looked away.
    My head spun. It was too soon to talk about that; neither of us could have coped.
    â€œPlease go to the shops. I promise you I’ll be fine. I won’t throw myself out of the window or anything.” I attempted a laugh. Again, Angus didn’t laugh at all.
    â€œI’ll do the groceries online.”
    â€œFine,” I sighed.
    From now on it was going to be like that: he’d check on me, he’d ask me a million times if I were okay. And I couldn’t blame him. If he’d tried to do what I’d tried to do, I’d be the same.
    All of a sudden, I looked around me and I felt that there was much to do. Everything was out of place and everything needed to be cleaned and sanitised in a way only I knew. My heart was beating too fast again, and my hands felt cold and tingly, the way they did when panic began opening its mouth to swallow me. Too much to do, too much to worry about. And the blackness threatening to engulf me any moment, without warning . . .
    I closed my eyes briefly. I needed to tell Emer I was okay.
    Â 
    From [email protected]
    To [email protected]
    Isabel? Please get in touch. I phoned Angus, and he told me what happened.
    Please write. I’ m worried sick.
    I send you all my love,
    Emer x
    Â 
    That was one of no less than fifty emails, imploring me to get in touch. I felt terrible. No surprises, there – guilt was my default mode.
    Â 
    From [email protected]
    To [email protected]
    I’ m home. I’m okay. Please don’t worry about me.
    Bell x
    Â 
    A vision from the past flashed in my mind: Angus, Emer, Donal – her best friend – and I camping on a Barra beach, two backpacks of clothes between us, sand everywhere, washing in the freezing sea . . . Donal looking at Emer with such love in his eyes – and still they were just friends, because Emer was in denial. Emer asking us what the sea looked like, telling us that to her the sea was a sound, a scent, and it felt faraway even when she was right on the shore. Emer and I in our flat in Glasgow, when I was at the School of Art and she was studying music – the evenings we spent chatting and drinking cheap cider, Harvey, who was then her guide dog, asleep between us. Emer and I had shared a flat until Angus came on the scene, and Emer, though she would never admit it, was a little bit jealous. ‘The two musicians in your life,’ she always said.
    I switched the computer off, stood up and walked slowly out of the room. I gazed at the metal spiral staircase that led upstairs to my studio.
    No.
    I wasn’t ready.
    I just couldn’t go back there.
    I decided to go downstairs, instead – I felt like I was moving underwater. So much to do, everything to clean and tidy, and I was so tired . . .
    I looked out at my garden – as always, the sight of it gave me comfort. A blue butterfly was dancing around the rosemary bush, and I looked twice – a butterfly in the winter? To my weary eyes, it seemed like a miracle.

14
Behind the scenes

    As I get closer
Closer to you
    Â 
    Isabel
    Later, Angus sat in the