‘I was just—I was greeting you. You . . .’ I trailed off, the fight dying out of me as I realized what it could cost.

She stared at me for another moment in complete confusion, then turned around and walked away.

‘Don’t worry about it. Some day they’ll all be scrambling over themselves to say hello.’

Jay, of course. Sharp rebuke on his face as he watched her go. A warm smile as he turned to me.

Kindness as a virtue is hard to fully appreciate until the dimming of youth. It grows in the lines that form, the creases near mouths, on foreheads and sprawling from the eyes. Not that I was entirely there yet, but I was beginning to see, beginning to understand that at some point, at some further bruised and weathered point, I would come to hold it dearer than anything else.

But right then, it hurt. It hurt me in some very visceral and necessary way, like the first flash of antibacterial on a fresh wound, and I couldn’t stand still anymore. So I took myself outside, running by the time I got to the pool, shimmering deserted under cautionary lights. I took deep, desperate drags of a cigarette that did nothing. I’d have eaten the box whole if it would have helped.

I saw him come around the poolside to the leafy alcove I’d stopped at, following me calmly, as if girls crumpled and bolted from him all the time.

‘That will kill you, you know.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘You should.’

‘I think I’m going to get fired.’

‘Do you care?’

I exhaled, stubbing out the cigarette, almost laughing. ‘No.’

He looked at me carefully, squinting, and I knew he was finding his way back to the water’s edge, back by Caroline’s fort.

‘I know you.’

I nodded, letting myself cry now. It was safe. This was Jay. He came over and hugged me, hesitant only for a moment, only for as long as he had to be.

‘Hey, hey, what is it? Sweetheart, what is it?’ His voice was still soft, warm wool, and it joined all the little spools of conversation I had stored away, but it was one too many, and I started overflowing. I had loved him too much for too long. It wasn’t healthy. It had to come out.

‘Tara.’

Soft, warm wool. Safety.

If this was the closest I was going to get to him, I had to make it count. I had to hand him the letter, shaking so hard I felt sick, and then start crying as he moved closer and held me, reading it somewhere above my shoulder.