Soul Storm by Kate Harrison Page A

we’re going nowhere.
    I don’t have anything to offer you except this, and this is not enough.
    But not going onto the Beach was just about bearable because I knew Lewis was working behind the scenes on a scientific solution. I waited and waited for a call to reassure me that he had found
some technology that would be able to work out what Olav can’t: what’s really going on in my head.
    But he didn’t call. Four days now since the Brighton trip. With every day, the dread grows. No texts. No calls. No unexpected visit.
    Has he had second thoughts about me?
I don’t know what I’ll do if he has.
    ‘I might have good news, Alice.’
    For a moment, I think Dad’s guessed how I’m feeling, and is going to tell me Lewis is waiting for me at home.
    ‘Your mother’s talking about booking a short holiday. I’m in enough trouble with the other partners already about how much time off I’ve had in the last year, so
it’d be just the two of you. She was wondering about New York?’
    He glances at me, to assess my reaction. I try to summon up the right level of enthusiasm. ‘New York!
Wow!’
    And I really hate myself, because they’re trying so hard, and only an ungrateful cow like me would not be thrilled at the prospect of a trip to NYC.
    ‘Let’s see how it goes with Olav, eh?’ he says, and I realise the holiday is conditional on my progress. A bribe, like a promise of biscuits to stop a toddler having a tantrum
in the supermarket.
    Back home, Dad changes my tyre before he heads out to work. Mum makes me tea and I can tell she’s itching to ask how it went, but is trying to respect my therapeutic boundaries or
whatever.
    ‘Olav was great,’ I say.
    She stares at me. ‘Really?’
    ‘So understanding.’ I know she’s bound to tell him what I said, so I might as well say something that will make Mum happy
and
confuse Olav even more.
    ‘Oh. Fantastic. I’m so pleased, Alice.’
    ‘I might go out,’ I say. ‘Olav thinks it’s important I don’t mope around the house all day.’
    ‘Fine,’ she says. ‘I’ll come with you
.’
    ‘Three might be a crowd at Lewis’s.’ I say it as though he’s invited me round for tea. But I have to see him. I have to know.
    Mum frowns. ‘Will you call me when you get there? I’d love to say hi.’
    Check up on me, she means. And make certain he doesn’t let me online.
    I get in the car. He won’t like me turning up unannounced, especially if he’s already written me off.
    Better to find out, though, right? Better to be put out of my misery if the last person on my side has decided I’m a lost cause.

 
     
     
     
14
     
     
     
     
    I have to ring the bell three times before I get an answer.
    Lewis comes to the door with headphones round his neck, his chin covered in dark brown stubble and his eyes half open.
    When he sees it’s me, he frowns. For an agonising moment I think he’s going to shut the door in my face.
    ‘Oh. Hi.’
    ‘Sorry. I know you weren’t expecting me. You’re probably in the middle of something. I can go, if you want.’
    Please don’t make me go.
    ‘No.’ He grinds his knuckles into his eye sockets, trying to wake himself up. ‘No, you’re all right. I threw an all-nighter on a project. I could probably do with some
human contact.’
    I pretend not to hear the doubt in his voice. Inside, it’s so dark that I can’t see anything for a few seconds. Then the tropical plants that form a living curtain beyond the patio
doors come into focus. The room smells musty, of pizza and cold coffee.
    ‘Maybe I should have pulled up the blinds and let the light in, but I was . . .’
    There’s a pile of papers on the floor next to the chocolate-brown sofa, along with the remains of last night’s takeaway. And the night before’s.
    ‘Busy?’ I finish his sentence.
    ‘Yup,’ he says, and walks past me to open the doors that lead onto the tiny patio. ‘Fresh air. Now why didn’t I think of that before? Can I sort you a