I get lost in the maze of streets and don’t even realize I am lost until two men walking towards me say something in French to me, but their body language and leering faces snaps me out of my daze.

I’m alone in a dark street with two men who look like thugs. I don’t think I have ever been so frightened in my life. I drop my head and crossing the road start walking away quickly. My heart hammers in my chest. My ears listen for their footsteps. They don’t follow. One of them laughs and calls something out. I don’t turn. Just keep my head fixed straight ahead and my stride long and fast.

To my relief, only a short distance away, the street joins a busy one full of traffic and people.

I run the last few steps and burst on to the busy street. I look around me. I realize for the first time that I am soaked to the skin and shivering. Nobody takes any notice of me. I flag down a cab and give the address of the apartment I am staying in to the taxi driver.

He doesn’t speak. Simply grunts, switches on the meter, and starts on driving.

By the time I get back to the apartment, everyone is asleep after all the champagne at the party, and only Marie, Lina’s French friend, whose apartment we are staying in, is awake.

“You are wet,” she says and shoos me towards the bathroom.

My mind is blank as I peel off my clothes and get into the shower. I don’t even cry. Slowly, feelings come back to my frozen limbs. Eventually, I get out and wrap myself in the thick bathrobe Marie hung behind the door for me.

I dry myself and go into the living room where she is watching TV. To my surprise Lina has come to join her friend in the living room. They are talking in low tones. When they hear me they both turn towards me, but it is only Lina who speaks to me.

“I heard the doorbell. What are you doing here?” she asks, a frown on her face.

I shake my head, because quite honestly, I cannot speak. Cannot say a word. She stares at me for a few seconds then, she stands, and comes over to me. “Come on, let’s have a cup of tea in the kitchen.”

We go into the kitchen, but it is not tea she takes down from the cupboard, but a bottle of cognac. I sit down and watch her pour a generous measure into two mugs. I smell the fumes from where I am sitting. I drank Jameson last night. I can still taste it on my tongue.

She pushes one of the mugs towards me. I curl my hands around it and drink it down. All of it in one go. It burns my throat and makes me cough. I look at Lina’s face.

Her mouth quirks. “It’s okay, honey. It happens to all of us.”

I bite my lip. She doesn’t understand, but I nod. I can’t talk about it. Not to her. Not to anyone. She can never understand. No one can.

“So Charlotte went on her honeymoon. Everything went really well,” she says softly.

I nod.

“Kylie got really drunk and threw up in the toilet,” she adds into the awkward silence.

I nod again.

She drinks her cognac and refills our mugs. I drink it and stand up.

She stands too. “I’m really sorry, Izzy.”

I nod, then I turn to leave.

“I’m here if you need to talk,” she says.

I turn. Her face is soft and full of concern. I nod and manage a half-smile. For the first time in my life, the pain is too deep for me to talk about my pain to anyone.

* * *

“Norway?” Vanessa chews on her lower lip, looking uncertainly from me to Liam and back to me.

Liam frowns. “Why?” he whispers weakly.

“Because there are specialists there who are in the middle of developing a new treatment for your specific cancer. There are doctors throwing all their expertise behind it,” Liam’s doctor says.

“Can he manage a trip like that?” Vanessa looks at the small team of doctors gathered at the foot of the bed.

“Yes. Mr. Eden has already made the arrangements for transport. All the necessary medical equipment can be taken onboard.”

“And it’s ready to leave whenever you are,” I finish, looking down at my friend. “All you have to do is stop being a stubborn jackass and accept the very thing you would do for me if you were in my shoes.”

“How much is it going to cost?”

“I can afford it,” I say.

“No, it’s too much,” he protests.

“Stuff it. It’s not too much. It’s nothing.” I touch his shoulder—it’s like touching a skeleton. “Please.”

Liam looks at Vanessa, his jaw set hard.

Her eyes fill with tears. “Please, Liam. Do it for me.”

It’s what decides it for him. “All right. Let’s go to Norway.”