In Bed With Lord Byron

burning.
    ‘Sorry about that – God, to call at a time like this.’ Anthony turned. ‘Oh. You’re dressed.’
    ‘I am. I – I have to go, actually. I just got a text,’ I lied frantically, ‘from my sister. She needs me.’ I waved my mobile meaningfully. ‘I can order a
taxi. I’ll do it right now.’
    In the end, Anthony insisted on giving me a lift to the station. He drove me there in the most deafening silence I have ever suffered. Outside, the sun gently warmed the fields and birds
twittered sweetly in the trees.
    Anthony pulled up at the station just as we heard the sound of an approaching train.
    ‘Oh, brilliant, I think that’s mine,’ I said hastily.
    ‘Lucy, can’t we just—’ Anthony broke off in exasperation. ‘OK. Go get your train.’
    I leaned over to give him a kiss goodbye, but he turned away, hurt, and the kiss landed on his jaw.
    Suddenly I didn’t want to go. I felt a wave of confusion.
Stay with \him,
a voice said.
Don’t do this, Lucy. Remember how it felt when he was shot. Remember how it felt
when he made love to you.
    But my train was now standing at the station; and I found myself leaping out of the car and running on to the platform, leaping aboard in the nick of time.
    Later that evening, I heard the phone ring.
    I was sitting eating baked beans on toast – only with my culinary skills they had come out more like squashed turds on black cardboard – forcing it down even though I wasn’t
really hungry.
    The answerphone clicked on.
    Then, Anthony’s voice: ‘Lucy, will you please just pick up the phone. I’m not chasing you, OK? I just want to
talk.’
    It was the third message he’d left that evening.
    I took another mouthful, trying to drown the butterflies of panic in my stomach.
    vii) Regret
    Why did you do that, Lucy? Why, why, why?
    I had escaped my flat and the terrifying ring of the phone. Now I was sitting in Regent’s Park, in the twilight. For a moment the beauty of my surroundings pulled me above my misery and
gave me a moment’s detachment. A moment later my confusion had sucked me back in and I was lost again.
    I felt like slapping myself. The crazy thing was, I
did
love Anthony, I was in no doubt about that. But the moving-in request had completely thrown me. I couldn’t understand why,
now that I had got him back, I wanted to run once more. I felt exasperated with the tango my emotions seemed to play – when I didn’t have Anthony, I wanted him; when I had him, I pushed
him away.
    The last embers of the day were dying; I got up and made my way home.
You can’t keep doing this, Lucy
, a quiet voice told me off.
It’s just not fair on Anthony.
You’re destroying him with your behaviour, and if you carry on like this you won’t even be friends. You’ve got to make your mind up. If you love him, why can’t this just be
simple? What do you find so terrifying about moving in with him?
    Back home, I stared at the phone in panic. There was a fresh winking light on the answerphone. A headache pulsed beneath my forehead. Oh God, I thought. If only I could undo time; if I could
just go back to that night when I dumped Anthony and stop myself from making that mistake . . .
    Suddenly everything became clear. That was it! It would be much easier to go back to the time when I was with Anthony, rather than undoing the knot and trying to tie it again. I could go back,
and this time I’d appreciate him. That would sort everything out.
    Wouldn’t it?
    But
, a small voice inside me pointed out,
what if I find myself wanting to run again? I’ll still be me, remember?
    I pushed the voice away. I was convinced it was my best shot.
    I heated up some milk, figuring I would need the energy for my journey. I took sips in between yawns. I was about to head for the time machine, when I caught sight of my reflection in the
window: ghastly and ghostly. I felt exhausted, wrung dry with emotional turmoil. I decided to go back to bed and get some sleep first, prepare for my new journey. Just before I left, I split some
milk on the table, but mopped it up easily.

Chapter Six
    Peter
    Established in Being, perform action.
    L ORD K RISHNA

i) Attempts to undo things
    I had keyed the date into the time machine – the day before Anthony and I had broken up. I shuffled about a bit, adjusting my seat. Now all I had to do was press the
green button and I was away.
    I paused, trying to still my shaking breath. In thirty seconds this would all be over. I had even