Adjusting back into life without Noah was hard. Especially as he respected my parting wish dutifully by not attempting to contact me. Not even once. Guess he'd gotten over it all pretty quickly.

Over the Easter break, I went back to stay with my mum to try and take my mind off things. One night, as we shared a bottle of wine and some homemade tapas, I told her the story of Noah long into the early hours. I didn't reveal how far things had gone physically between us, but having someone to talk to other than Charlotte or Kris made a nice change.

She was shocked at first to find out I'd had a new boyfriend - and somehow managed to already break up with him - without her knowing about any of it. But she'd had her suspicions there was someone new on the scene, ever since she'd found out about the valiant hero who threw George up against a wall.

"I was young once, too. I know how easy it is to fall head over heels," she'd laughed kindly, as I told her I'd thought he was going to be the love of my life, but I was obviously wrong and just plain stupid.

"When I first met your dad, he was a struggling musician without a penny to his name. But I loved him, and we made it work," she said softly, holding my hand in hers. "Whatever it is that's made you think you can't be together, if you really do love him, you can get through it."

Her words hit me hard. Her and dad had been so in love, right up until the day he decided he didn't want to live with his illness anymore. If Noah and me stood even half a chance of being as made for each other as they were, maybe I could one day find a way to forgive him for his sordid past?

Or maybe not. He sold his body to other women. His body that I had learnt to love every single inch of didn't belong to me after all. It was public property.

The thought played on my mind every day until it was time to leave and head back to London to face the summer term without him around.

As the train propelled me back to the capital with silent urgency, I watched the world sweep by the window in a blur. The English countryside was at its most glorious best in early May. The colours of the trees and flowers bursting from wild hedgerows as I rushed by began to fill me with hope. Whether it was hope that Noah and me might still stand a chance, I didn't know, but I felt better than I had when I first left for mum's house two weeks before.

When I arrived back at the flat, I was surprised to find it empty. Charlotte had text earlier that day to say she'd be home when I got back.

Maybe she's just popped out, I thought, as I flopped onto the sofa and switched on the TV.

About an hour or so later, she arrived back carrying a pile of cardboard boxes in her arms.

"Hey, Abs, I thought you didn't get back until this evening?" she said, looking a little flustered.

"No, I said I'd be back around three," I called back, as she rushed into her room to drop the boxes.

Standing up, I followed her to her room, peeking my head around the door. "What's with the boxes?"

"Just doing some sorting," she said quietly, without turning around. "How was your trip home?"

"It was good, yeah. What are you sorting that means you need all these?" I pressed, walking over to join her where she had plonked herself onto the floor.

Suddenly, she blurted it out so fast I couldn't really digest what she was saying at first.

"Me and Alex have found a place, Abs. I didn't want to tell you over the phone but, we're married now and we need to think about the future..."

"But, I thought they'd gone on tour?" I replied, confused by the huge development I seemed to have missed in only a fortnight of being away.

"They have," she replied, looking up at me with flushed cheeks. "It's going really well so far, but they'll be back in a month and that's how much notice we'll need to give on this place if we're going to move out. Or... Kris has already asked whether he could move into my room..."

"Were you planning to tell me any of this?" I snapped a little too harshly. "This is our flat, Char, and now I find out I have to either move out or let Kris move in, without even discussing it first. I don't have any other options really, do I?"

"I'm so sorry," she sighed. "It was Alex's idea. He got carried away one day while we were out, so we went into an estate agency - just to look - and came out having put down a deposit. I really wasn't planning to just dump this on you."

"For fuck's sake, Char," I sighed. "I'm not an ogre. I knew this would be coming soon, but maybe just a tiny bit of notice would have been nice."

"I'm kind of giving you a month's notice now," she said with a small, embarrassed smile creeping onto her lips.

"Dickhead," I smirked back, as I shook my head.

"Sorry, not sorry," she replied, shrugging as we both began to laugh.

"I don't think I can live with Kris, though," I sighed. "I love him to death but, twenty-four hours a day? I'll be ready to strangle him within a week."

"Well, it will be summer soon," Charlotte continued. "You know he likes to go home for the holidays so you'd have the place to yourself. Maybe Noah could even come over when the boys get back from tour to keep you company?"

"I doubt that," I said quietly.

"So it's still over between you two then?"

"Yeah."

"Want to talk about what happened between you two yet?"

"Nope."

"Okay," she smiled gently, pushing herself up from the floor. "Cup of tea?"

"Please," I smiled back, leaving her to head into the kitchen while I sat among the boxes on her bedroom floor.

Even after dropping the news on me like that, I couldn't really be angry with Charlotte. She had every right to want to live with her new husband, and I wasn't going to lose my best friend as well as my boyfriend in the space of a few weeks.

As she came back in carrying two mugs, she rejoined me on the floor and sighed.

"He misses you, Abs," she said softly. "Noah misses you. Alex told me he's barely said a word to anyone, he just does the gigs and then locks himself away until it's time to head to the next venue."

"It just wasn't meant to be," I replied, giving her a defeated smile.

"You know their final tour date is back here, in London, this coming Friday? Maybe you could come with me? It would be fun to watch it together, I kind of feel like we've been both been invested in this from the start, don't you think?"

Letting out a small snort of laughter, I replied, "I suppose you could say that. But I don't think I can deal with standing in a crowd, watching Noah perform but knowing I won't be able to touch him after or tell him how proud I am."

"I really thought you two were made for each other," she sighed.

"Me too."

After a couple of minutes silence as we sipped our tea, Charlotte stood up and brushed off her light blue jeans.

"Right, I'm going to crack on with this sorting," she announced. "I'll do us some dinner for about seven-ish, that sound good?"

"Perfect," I smiled back, before heading back to my room to contemplate the fact that, in less than one month, I'd managed to lose three things; my virginity, my boyfriend, and - potentially - my home.

Crashing onto my bed, I began to open the pile of post that Charlotte had left on my bedside table. Another bill, a letter from the doctor's for a check-up X-ray on my collarbone, a bank statement from the account dad left for me, same old shit.

Then, an envelope caught my eye. A small, professional logo adorned the corner of the crisp white paper. PCJ Publishing. I'd heard of the company - anyone who wants to work in music had - but I'd never been in any kind of contact with them.

Dear Miss Wilson,

We would like to invite you to PCJ's next New Talent showcase on Monday, May 8th.

I swore out loud to myself. Shit. That was the very next day.

Please prepare three original works, to be played live or via recording, in front of our panel.

Each line confused me more than the previous. I'd never recommended anything to anyone. My songs had always stayed as my own. I knew the tutors at uni were all still gigging musicians, linked with the music industry in various ways, but none of them had ever mentioned putting me forward for this.

If you are successful, the next stage will require you to attend a meeting at our London headquarters, where your opportunity to join PCJ as one of our esteemed pool of writers will be discussed with our senior management team before any official negotiations are made.

I read the words over and over again as I lay on my bed and tried to ignore the rolling waves of anxiety building in the pit of my stomach. Being signed to write for a publishing house was my dream, but not one that I'd thought to pursue. I had accepted that my future would involve becoming a music teacher, finding a steady job in a school or something where I could earn a regular living but still write for my own enjoyment.

Yet now, here I was, being handed the opportunity of a lifetime on a plate without even having asked for it. Maybe, just maybe, things were finally starting to go my way.