Song: 'Ungodly Hour' - The Fray

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We spend a lazy morning in bed before Harry untangles from me to pack. I sit crosslegged and chat away to him.  Secretly, I love to watch him doing the simplest of tasks.  His ease with himself is fascinating to observe.  He has packed and unpacked so many times that he can do it in his sleep.

I have taken to slipping a surprise into his luggage when he is not looking; a little reminder of me to take with him.  Depending on my mood it is either naughty like a piece of my underwear or romantic such as a picture of us or silly like a packet of his favourite sweets.

Today however, I feel melancholy.  He disappears into the bathroom to shower and I scan around the room for inspiration. My latest read catches my eye and the bookmark sticking out the top of it.  Bingo!  I slide the pretty card marker with the inspirational printed quote out from between the worn pages, give it a quick kiss and hide it in between his layers of clothes.

He reappears in a towel, sitting low on his hips.  His torso is bare and the water droplets dripping off the ends of his freshly washed curls run down over his chest.  Aimlessly, he wanders from the chest of drawers to walk-in wardrobe to bathroom and back again, gathering the last of his clothing and toiletries. He knows exactly the effect he has on me by his failed attempt to hide the small smirk on his lips followed by the poke of his tongue out the corner of his mouth.

Placing his holdall on the landing, he suddenly laughs that packing has not taken as long as he thought. Unashamedly, he whips off his towel, whirls it around his head like a lasso then dramatically throws it aside. He jumps on the bed and straddles me, pushing me back into the pillows.  Holding both my wrists in one hand above my head, he shakes his head, showering me in water. I squeal whilst trying to wrestle free and question that I hope he has not forgotten anything.  He stills and seriously replies that there is only one thing he is not taking that he wishes he was. Me.

His grip on my wrists slackens. I reach up and cup the nape of his neck, pulling him down to me. I murmur, "I love you," and kiss him over and over until he stretches out fully, mirroring his body with mine. He rocks slowly but hard against me. I need him and I tell him and we hungrily tangle together again.

The rise and fall rhythm against my cheek on his chest is a soothing place to rest but all too quickly we untangle again. We enjoy a late brunch breakfast, mostly in silence. We sit admiring in the presence of each other, only interrupted by the arrival of his car.

Goodbyes are something we do often so I am used to them but today, for some reason, I feel apprehensive.  My hug lasts a little longer than usual.  Being so attentive he notices and asks if I am okay.  I have never done the clingy girlfriend thing and am not about to start.

"Going to miss you, that's all," I respond hugging him tighter.

"Me too. It's only Europe and it's only five days. I'll call you when I land. Love you, always," he pulls away but holds my stare.

"Love you too, always," I choke out.

He shines those glass green eyes, haloed within rings of black, right through the heart of me, as though trying to read my innermost thoughts.  I nearly breakdown on the spot but manage to keep it together.  Saying goodbye is hard enough without adding to the difficulty.

One final tender meeting of lips, he turns to walk towards the door but stops in his tracks. He swivels on the heels of his black boots and holds out his hand to me, beckoning me back to him. I fall into his embrace, craving his arms once more. Then he is gone without a backwards glance.

Harry hates goodbyes and if he had his way, I would be travelling with him but I have to work.  I have only taken a few hours off so we can spend some time together before he leaves.

After he departs, his house feels vacant.  I decide I do not want to be there and go into the office early.  I immerse myself in work for the rest of the day which is a blessing. It is 7.30pm when I finally finish and catch the bus back to Hampstead not Highgate.  When he asked me to stay at his, I sensed he needed it so I decided to just agree and not make it a big deal.  As my mother used to say, 'pick your battles.'

As soon as I arrive at Eskdale, I kick off my loafers, pour a glass of wine and prepare some pasta.  I am settling down to eat my meal-for-one when Harry calls. He has arrived safely in Austria and is at the hotel about to have dinner. He comments that I sound tired but I reassure him it is nothing an early night won't fix. 

I chase the pasta round the bowl until I am unable to keep my eyes open any longer.  The food finds the bin and I find the bed.  I fall into slumber easily but my night is broken by the return of the pain down my side and I toss and turn through the covers.

As soon as I wake the next morning, I know there is no way I can go into work. A quick call to explain my absence and it is early afternoon when I finally wake again.

Under the duvet is warm but my body shakes with shivers that alarm me. More surprising is an acute pain in my shoulder.  I must have slept awkwardly but I am definitely coming down with a virus.  I take two paracetemol and run a hot bath.

Before Harry gets swept up in sound checks and preparations, he calls me from the Wetten Dass studios. Knowing just how much he will worry, I pretend I am working away in the office.  His happiness at his interviews so far lifts my spirits and the excitement is evident in his voice for the live performance being recorded later on this evening.  I wish him good luck and that I love him before hanging up and sinking into the warm, relaxing water.

I soak longer than planned and keep topping up the heat from the tap.  When I get out, a dizzy spell has me resting on the bed. I realise I have not eaten all day but really do not feel hungry. My stomach hurts and it is enough for me to get dressed before I feel weak and have to sit down again.

I venture downstairs to make a cup of tea and some toast. The tea warms my insides but as soon as I eat, I run to the toilet to throw it back up. I settle on the sofa under a blanket to watch TV.  My stomach pains are joined by pains in my abdomen that makes me rest my head back on the sofa and groan – not period pain on top of feeling unwell, great!  I am sure my period is not due yet; I must check my diary later.

Over the next half an hour the pain becomes excrutiatingly unbearable.  I decide to take some more tablets but I can barely stand let alone walk; my legs are jelly and the pain has me doubled over. 

Realising I'm going to be sick again, I stagger to the toilet only just making it in time. My appearance in the mirror is shockingly a ghostly paleness. The brightness of the fluorescent light catches my eye and the room begins to blur. In a scramble to stop myself falling, I try to grab onto the basin but miss. Collapse.

I drag my lids apart.  The toilet floor is cold.  My head pulsates.  Did I pass out?  How long have I been here?  I must get up.  Why can't I move?

Pain rockets through my abdomen, holding my breath and clenching my fists.  The intensity so strong, I wince.  A chill pinpricks my body and raises the hairs on my arms.  I roll onto my side and hug my knees to my chest in agony. 

I call out hoping perhaps Jackson is here and can hear me.  Nothing, because I know he is not around. I attempt to get up again but my legs are two dead weights. I need help but my mind is a haze.  My phone?  I fumble in my pocket to find it empty. My leggings are soaked. It is either blood or I have wet myself. My god what is wrong with me? I cry out in frustration.

Think Natasha. Harry at his most overprotective. Panic buttons; each room has at least one. I reach towards the wall, running my hand over the plaster and then in desperation as pain rips through me, pad to try and locate the button.  The tips of my fingers stretch and I push it as hard as I can before I collapse again.

I hear the house alarms screaming for what seems like forever; they pierce through my every fibre almost mimicking my pain. I close my eyes and focus on my shallow breaths to try and block it all out.

All I see in the blackness in front of my eyes is Harry, smiling and holding out his hand to me. It is not until the home sirens are replaced by an ambulance siren that I finally let go and allow sleep to whisk me away.