“No, I never saw it.” I sound the full stop at the end of the sentence. People like Tim don’t want to know what I know, not really. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t, because if he did he wouldn’t be able to smile so much. Instead, he’d lie awake night after night and he’d see a hundred different Graces, one a waifish shop assistant in Paris, another a beggar in Munich, another a waitress in Rome, all of them walking with the same barely perceptible limp.

We’re almost at the pitch now. Ruth is standing just outside a small group of mums and dads. She’s bundled up in a scarf and hat but she’s still moving from one foot to the other to keep warm. She’s shouting, “Good pass, Leo! Come on, Bethell’s!”

My heart constricts with love as soon as I see her and I start impatiently pushing myself along. Now the ground is firmer, I don’t need Tim anymore, Tim and his questions about something that can never be made right. I need Ruth and I need our future.

“Thanks for your help, Tim, I can take it from here,” but Tim keeps pushing me along.

“Thanks, mate, I can take it from here,” I say, louder. Tim stops pushing and moves round to the front of my chair. He looks like he’s thinking about shaking my hand, so I keep pushing myself on, towards Ruth, and say with a nod, “Appreciate your help.”

There’s a small note of failure in his voice as he calls after me, “Any time, mate, any time.”

Ruth claps her hands together when she sees me, kisses my cheek, and I bite my tongue when she says Tim is a good bloke. I wave at Jakey. He skip-runs a couple of joyful paces when he sees me and waves back. Ruth holds my hand until Jakey has the ball and he’s running fast up the wing. We let go of each other to clap but then the ref blows his whistle, someone’s offside, and through the gaggle of parents groaning at the ref, laughing with each other and calling encouragement to the muddy players, I see a young woman in a blue coat. She’s standing at the opposite edge of the football pitch. She has blond hair that looks too perfect to be real and she’s staring straight at me. When she knows I’ve seen her she smiles and raises her finger to her little rosebud lips.

Shhh.

Then the ref blows his whistle and I blink and realize it wasn’t Grace but another woman in a blue coat and a familiar wave of relief and fear washes through me as I remind myself that even though we don’t know where she is, Grace is not here. Grace is gone.

27

Cara

“Welcome to your first tutorial. It’s wonderful to see you all here.”

Dr. Mackenzie makes a point of trying to look each of the twelve of us in the eye as he scans the table, like he’s making a toast. Some look away, embarrassed, giggling quietly, but I look straight back. I want to show him I’m ready, that I’m where I should be, here in his large office at Bristol University that smells like leather, the air humid with concentration.