Lindsey Kelk - Lindsey Kelk 5-Book ‘I Heart...’ Collection

‘God, that’s so sad,’ I mumbled through the tears. ‘I’m almost twenty-seven, I’ve been cheated on, I’m homeless, my friends are all arseholes and I’m alone in a city with one tiny travel bag, a pair of £400 shoes that double as a weapon, and half a Toblerone. That’s not my definition of a hero.’

‘Nope, I think you’re a hero. You confronted a life changing situation head on, you challenged people who were negative influences on your life even though they were cornerstones in your social system and you came to the best city in the world to rediscover yourself. And, you’re not alone now, you’ve got me whether you like it or not,’ she said, smiling broadly and scraping her mass of dark brown curls back into a loosely contained ponytail. ‘Jenny Lopez, New York’s number one free psychiatrist. Make the most of me before I cost you a billion bucks an hour. And don’t laugh at my name. And can I see those shoes?’

‘I won’t make fun,’ I said, wondering how I could drink the milk out of my bowl without her seeing. Proof that E numbers are addictive. ‘And thank you, for all this and for listening and well, talking. And yes, the shoes are by the bed.’

‘Oh, never thank me for talking,’ she laughed, hopping up off the bed and picking up a shoe. ‘Wow, Hyde Park Louboutins, nice. Well, I’ve got to get back to the desk and I would guess that you need to sleep, the jet lag must be kicking in about now.’

I nodded, she was strangely insightful. When I tried to stand up to see her out, my legs were like lead.

‘Don’t get up,’ she said, opening the door. ‘Just enjoy the food, watch some shitty TV and get ready for tomorrow.’

‘What’s tomorrow?’ I asked, cracking into the pancakes. I was so hungry and everything was so good.

Jenny grinned from the doorway. ‘Lots of things. It’s my day off, it’s the day I’m taking you out so you don’t spend a second longer than necessary alone watching cable, and it’s the first day of your New York adventure. Be up and in reception by nine-thirty.’

And she was gone.

I sat on the bed, slightly shell-shocked. Opposite the bed was a large mirror, six feet high, leaning against the wall. I could hardly believe it was me staring back out. Me in New York. Me, single. Me with a friend, (albeit a pity friend) taking me on a tour of the city in twelve hours. The jet lag was starting to make me feel as though I’d drunk a lot more vodka than I really had and all the food on the trolley was starting to blur out of focus. Pushing backwards and kicking the covers down around me, I collapsed into the feather bed. Happily, the remote control surfed to the top of the quilt and found its way into my hand. I flicked and flicked until I found something familiar. Ahhh, Friends . Perfect. The insanity of the last twenty-four hours flitted around in the back of my mind as I tried to relax. The sun had started to set outside, casting long shadows across my room.

Aren’t you feeling lonely? You should go home and confront things, the dark room whispered. I had always hated how things seemed ever so slightly worse, ever so slightly more insane at night. I defiantly stuck my hand out and fumbled around on the trolley for another cookie, the final act of exertion that pushed me over the edge. I collapsed into a dreamless, jet lag induced sleep before I even got it to my mouth.

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