5 Books For Eveline

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Purdy flipped through the pages of the fifth book. From the sixth chapter onwards, she began to recognise many of the situations. Situations that she had experienced. Or, at least, close approximations to her experiences. Until the chapter where 'Eveline' found the first book, then things came closer to the reality. For the entire last half of the book, the point of view came from the perspective of 'Raya'.

Every so often, she would glance towards Briar, wondering when she had written this volume. Had she taken the month, or so, when they had fallen apart from each other to write it? Or had she written it as the days had gone on, putting in writing, every day, what the two of them had got up to? Like a diary.

"When we fell out?" She closed the book again and Briar perked up, eyes widening as she anticipated the next question. "Why did that happen? It was so sudden. I spent days cursing your name. Then days cursing myself. Just ... why?"

"You were pushing yourself too much. I hadn't anticipated that." Briar's eyes fell and she began to tug upon a frayed part of her jeans, the white threads looking feathery against the faded blue of the jeans. "I thought, if we took some time away from each other, it'd give you time to recover. The month's pause, in the fourth book, was there already, so that I could finish this. But, you just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

"I couldn't." The urge to continue looking for the books had taken her over, she knew that, but, perhaps, Briar had had the right idea. Knowing what she knew now, she didn't need to push herself. "You faked an argument, ended our friendship, to help me? That's pretty messed up."

Briar laughed, looking away and nodding. She tugged a string of the frayed, white thread from her jeans, rolling it between her finger and thumb. With a flick of her finger, Briar sent the rolled up thread flying away, down the stairs. She seemed embarrassed. By all her actions, or only for causing an argument, Purdy couldn't tell.

While Purdy tried to make sense of everything, running all the times she and Briar had searched places for each volume, all the conversations between them, her hands never left the book. A book, or series of books, written for her and only her. It was the most intimate present she could ever imagine. As a knock came to Briar's door, it made them both jump and look at each other.

"I'm sorry. You'll never get there in time and the boss says you're just wasting our time. Sorry." The taxi driver stood at the door, his eyes falling to the days old mail that fell from the letterbox. Purdy's belongings sat at his feet. "No charge, but I doubt the boss'll accept your business in the future."

Without saying another word, the driver turned on his heel, got into his car and drove away. Purdy could only stare at her bags. She had almost forgotten her appointment. Even with the extra time she had given herself, she doubted she could reach the hospital in time. She reached down for her handbag, ready to take out her phone and cancel the operation. She had no idea what the consequences could be.

"I'll take you." Briar began rummaging through a pile of letters that littered a nearby side table. After a few seconds, letters and flyers falling to the floor, she pulled out a set of car keys. "Chloe could do with a run out and I know for a fact I'd be faster than that old goat. Legal? Not so much. But definitely faster."

Purdy had little say in the matter. Briar had already rushed away, into a nearby room, and reemerged rolling a black, Eighties-style Bomber jacket over her arms. Within seconds, Briar had picked up Purdy's things, locked the front door and dragged Purdy out the back door, locking that, too.

Chloe sat in the dilapidated garage, looking almost as old as the rotting, sodden wood of the walls. Purdy's things became tossed into the hatchback, Briar dropped into the driver's seat and she waited for Purdy to follow, tapping the steering wheel. As soon as Purdy had fastened the seat belt, after several attempts, Briar set off out of the garage, without checking for traffic, and roared away, Chloe sputtering and banging from the exhaust.