My heart just wasn't in it for my group performance. I'd had a taste of how good it was to play with Noah, and the new guitarist who'd stepped up to join our band just wasn't cutting it.

After receiving an average mark and some 'constructive' criticism from Dan and the other tutors, I said goodbye to Charlotte and Kris, grabbed my bag, then rushed off to catch my train from Paddington.

Watching the lush green countryside roll by the window, I already missed Noah. Pulling out my phone I took a selfie, looking bored - but pretty cute, as far as I was concerned - with my headphones on.

'Stop this train' I captioned it simply, in reference to the John Mayer song currently playing in my ears, then sent it to Noah.

Within a few seconds I received a reply. A selfie of him, sat on top of a guitar amp in a recording studio, also looking bored.

'I want to get off and go home again...' he replied, continuing the lyric.

I smiled to myself as I typed a response. 'Not gonna miss you this weekend x'

'Me neither, not at all x'

Still with a lazy smile across my lips, I closed my eyes and lost myself in the laid-back soundtrack ringing in my ears. Every song made me think of him. Noah's face was drowning out the noise of crying babies and business people talking too loud on their phones more than the music itself.

By the time I reached Bath, I felt a world away from London. And from Noah. The sight of my mum standing in the ticket hall was welcome and, as she flung her arms around me, I felt quite emotional. She looked older every time I saw her. In photos from her youth, my mum was the spitting image of me. Long, thick, dark hair, big brown eyes, and wide lips that covered most of her face when she smiled for the camera.

Deciding to stop for coffee on our way home, we pulled into the car park of a coffee chain drive-thru. Sometimes I wonder when coffee became such a 'thing' that it needed its own drive-thrus. But, considering I was addicted to the stuff, I wasn't going to let it put me off getting one.

"I thought we could go sit inside?" said my mum, turning to face me with a hopeful grin.

"Sounds good," I smiled back, opening the passenger door and stepping out.

As we settled in with our drinks at a cosy table in the corner, it seemed as though we were both making small talk. Things had never been awkward between mum and me, but it felt as though we were both avoiding an elephant in the room.

Eventually, she moved the conversation on to the subject I knew she really wanted to discuss.

"So... what happened earlier this week? When George came to see you?"

Rolling my eyes, I took a sip of my latte before replying.

"For a start," I began, "He shouldn't have come up in the first place. He's not my boyfriend anymore mum, he's not even really a friend, so I don't know why you gave him my address-"

"He cares about you, sweetheart," she interrupted. "I've seen him a few times since you two split and he's always asking after you. I was shocked you hadn't told him about the accident."

"Mum! Why would I have told him?" I snapped. "We're not a part of each other's lives anymore, don't you get that?"

"He told me you speak to each other regularly," she said quietly. "I thought you were still close."

"Well he's a liar, mum," I sighed. "I haven't spoken to George since we broke up and I'm happy that way. Why have you seen so much of him anyway?"

"He pops round when he's back from Uni," she said, looking embarrassed. "I thought it was sweet of him, you know, to check in on me now you've left and I'm... now I'm on my own, Abs."

"Oh, mum," I sighed. "You're not alone. I'm sorry I haven't been home much, but you know you're always welcome to come up to London?"

"I know. It's just tricky, darling, with the salon and everything. I can't just up and leave any time I fancy paying my daughter a visit."

Tilting my head, I smiled at her. "But you are the boss, it must have some perks?"

"I suppose it does..." she smiled back, shrugging one shoulder.

"But you still haven't answered my question," she continued.

"What question?"

"When George came to London, what happened?"

"I'm sure he's probably already told you what happened, seeing as you two are BFFs," I shot back, a little too harshly.

"He did, actually, he stopped by on his way home from the station."

"And what exactly did he tell you?" I snorted, shaking my head at his relentless self-importance.

"He said you had a nice afternoon together, catching up and just talking."

"And..."

"And then some man turned up at your flat and just attacked George out of nowhere. He said he swung a fist at you, too."

"Bullshit!" I snapped.

"Abi, please, people are looking..."

"I don't care, let them look. I don't know why the hell George thinks he can drip-feed you lies about my life, but I'm sick of it. He is nothing to do with me, mum, and if you knew the truth about him you'd understand why."

My chest was rising and falling furiously, and I felt slightly dizzy. The coffee shop began to move in slow motion around me as I released what I had blurted out.

"What do you mean, the truth?" My mum whispered.

Letting out a deep sigh, I closed my eyes and dropped my head backwards in the chair.

"Let's go home," I muttered. "We can talk more there."

As we pulled up outside our unassuming terraced house, I looked up at the brick walls with a feeling of nostalgia that always crept up on me every time I came home. Even with the money dad had left us, mum never wanted to move out of this house. Even though I had made the most horrific discovery of my life within its four walls, the wonderful memories of my childhood outweighed everything else.

We had been a happy family, the three of us, or so it had seemed. Sometimes I wondered if I should have spotted the signs with dad earlier. His illness had taken him over quickly, but he always had a smile painted on and seemed to be battling through it to the outside world. I suppose it's true that you can never really know what's going on in someone's head.

Dumping my bag up in my old room, I decided to take a shower before facing my mum. Slipping on my joggers and a hoody, I headed downstairs to join her in the kitchen, where she was serving up pasta in a homemade sauce. Another one of Dad's legacies.

As we began to eat, you could have cut the tension with a knife. She wanted to know more about what I'd said, and I felt ready to tell her. But actually forming the words was proving difficult for both of us.

"Should we open a bottle of wine?" I said, breaking the silence.

"Since when did you drink wine?" she laughed.

"Guess there's a lot of things that have changed about me in the last few months," I laughed back, before heading over to the fridge to pull out the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc I knew she always kept chilling.

As we ate and drank, the conversation started to become a little less stilted. By the time we'd finished off our meal and almost two glasses each, my Dutch courage was strong enough to bring up the subject we both needed to face.

While I explained everything about the way George had treated me - minus his issues with physical intimacy - my mum's face was crestfallen with the thought of how he'd behaved towards her little girl.

"I thought he was the perfect young man," she said, after I'd spilt the full story.

"Yeah, he seems to have a way of making people think that," I responded, rolling my eyes.

"So who's the tattooed guy that nearly knocked him out?" she asked, a small hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. "I think I might need to thank him for that. Or maybe join him next time and throw the first punch myself."

Her attempt to sound tough tickled me and I burst out laughing. Pouring the last drops of wine into our glasses, I explained how Noah was just a friend from Uni. I couldn't bring myself to tell her he was my boyfriend. Not yet, anyway.

By the time we headed to bed, I felt more at peace with our mother-daughter relationship than I had in a long time. Hiding the truth about George from her had made me feel awful for so long, yet suddenly it was like a weight had lifted from my shoulders.

I'll deal with the Noah subject another time, I thought to myself, as I climbed into my old bed and picked up my phone. I was a little surprised to see that he hadn't texted at all since our earlier exchange.

'You ok? x' I typed, then hit send.

Almost an hour later, there was still no response. It was gone midnight and, although I shouldn't have been bothered, I couldn't help wondering whether something terrible might have happened.

'Ummm... are you alive?!' I typed, before also texting Charlotte to subtly find out whether she might be round the boys' house.

A reply flashed up quickly on my screen, but my heart dropped when I saw it wasn't Noah.

'I'm at ours, Alex is staying. Not seen Noah but Al says they were recording album then headed off about 6 x'

'Ok thanks. Night x'

As I lay there in the darkness, I tried to shake thoughts of Noah being in an accident or something horrible from my mind. But, in trying to do so, the cinema screen in my brain started to flood with images of something else keeping him from contacting me.

I woke up early the next day to find a reply from him waiting for me. At 3:34am he had finally text back.

'Sorry, busy with work stuff all day. Call you later x'

It wasn't exactly the response I wanted, but at least he was safe.

Mum and I spent a lovely girly Saturday together. We went out for breakfast, did a bit of shopping, then stopped by her salon so I could finally get my split ends sorted out. The day had been a welcome distraction from thinking about Noah, who still hadn't called by the time I started getting ready for bed.

As I changed into my pyjamas my phone buzzed with a text.

'Sorry, caught up at a gig - what time you back tomorrow?'

So he was too busy to text. Also too busy to even put a kiss at the end of his message by the looks of it.

"Late. Won't see you until during the week' I replied.

'Still on for Friday?' he pinged back.

'Yeah, see you Friday'

It was hardly the romantic exchange about how much we were missing each other that I'd hoped for, but his attitude was getting on my nerves. If he didn't want to make the effort to even call me, then I wouldn't make the effort to see him until our 'date' on Friday. I was sure it wouldn't matter that much to him anyway, if he was that busy.

After spending the morning lounging around the house, it was time to head back to the train station. My mum looked almost tearful as she gave me hug at the ticket barriers.

"Please don't shut me out anymore, Abi baby," she whispered in my ear as she embraced me tightly.

"I won't, mum," I whispered back. Placing a kiss on her cheek I walked off into the crowd to catch my train, waving back at her over my shoulder until she was out of sight completely.

As the train pulled into Paddington, I felt the buzz of London hit me in the face instantly. It was only five thirty; there would be plenty of time to see Noah.

No, I chastised myself. He needs to learn you're not at his beck and call.

I started to get more inexplicably annoyed the closer I got to home, not helped by having to take two tube trains to get there. I don't know why I was so pissed off with him, but something didn't feel right. He was the one who'd been talking about how he'd struggle to be without me for the weekend, and then all of a sudden he couldn't even be bothered to call. Or had he been otherwise occupied?

As I reached the flat, I trudged up the stairs with my bag slung over my shoulder. Opening the door, I was greeted with the sight of Alex and Charlotte curled up on the sofa watching a film.

"Hey! Nice weekend?" Charlotte called over.

"It was alright," I responded, kicking off my boots.

"God, you're all sunshine and light, aren't you?" laughed Alex.

"Sorry, I'm just not in a great mood," I sighed, flopping onto the small spot of sofa left free down at the end, next to both pairs of their feet.

"That'll be you and Noah both, then," he continued. "He was in a right strop at rehearsal today. Wouldn't speak to any of us, then just stormed off at the end."

"Must have been tired after the gig last night," I shrugged.

Why am I sticking up for him?

"We didn't have a gig last night," Alex said, looking confused.

"I don't know, maybe it was a solo gig then?" I replied, trying to act like it was no big deal.

"Yeah, maybe. He doesn't really tell us when he's got his own stuff booked in," Alex mumbled.

I tried to read his face, but the truth was I just didn't know Alex well enough yet to be able to do so. Maybe I didn't know Noah as well as I thought, either.

"I'm going to go hang out in my room and get an early night," I announced, as I stood up from the sofa.

"It's only seven o'clock!" Charlotte laughed.

"Oh well, I'm really tired," I muttered, getting myself a glass of water and a giant bag of popcorn out of the kitchen, before heading to my bedroom and closing the door behind me.

My dreams that night were filled with warped images of Noah's face mixed up with George's. He was pulling me back from something. Something big and heavy, which I was trying to grab with both hands and destroy with all my might, but my arms and legs wouldn't move.

When my alarm went off the next morning, I felt as though I'd hardly slept a wink. Groggily picking up my phone to switch off the incessant beeping, I decided to text Charlotte in the room down the other end of the hallway.

"I don't feel well, I'm not going in today x'

'Ok, call me if you need anything, be home about 5 x'

When I finally heard the front door close, I padded out into the kitchen to get breakfast and coffee. After taking a long shower, I threw on a pair of boy shorts and an Oxford University jumper that I'd bought ironically on a day trip to the city, and then settled down onto the sofa for a day of doing nothing.

I'd probably been sat there watching mind-numbing daytime TV for about an hour before the door buzzed. As I lifted the receiver off the wall, expecting a delivery guy or the postman, I felt almost sick as Noah's voice came through the other end.

"Abi, are you okay? Can I come up?"

Without responding, I clicked the button to let him in, then inhaled deeply as I heard his boots slowly thudding up the stairs.

I felt nervous. Really nervous. And I had absolutely no idea why.