Two Minute Terry. The consolation prize. How could Lewis not know or feel how intensely she liked him?

‘We didn’t even get on that well,’ he adds and it hurts Yvonne how little he cared for her friend. ‘But with you, Yvie, we click on so many things. We’re so similar.’ Again, he moves closer.

‘No, we’re not. You don’t know me.’

She can feel his eyes. He opens his mouth to stay something but then decides against it.

‘Lewis, just go.’

Chapter Eight

Arrival

October 2020

Yvonne

The airport pub smells of beer-soaked carpet and fried food. The football highlights play soundlessly in the background and the white wine is terrible. Yvonne feels oddly calm. Kiama eats a double burger, side salad, chips and onion rings, stopping frequently to read the incoming messages on his phone.

‘You’re popular,’ she says.

‘It’s my dad.’

Lewis made Kiama out to be some emotionally unstable wreck, but the way he rolls his eyes as he reads the texts makes him look like any other sulky teenager.

‘Not much of a portion, is it? Are you going to eat that?’ He points his fork at the extra bowl of chips he ordered, despite her protests.

She pushes it across the table. ‘Are you one of those annoying people who eat whatever they want and never put on weight?’

‘What can I say? I got good genes. Though when I look at Dad I can see how it catches up with you. You’re probably picturing him still all buff, but I’m telling you, he’s eaten pasta every day since Nana passed. He’s like this,’ Kiama puffs his cheeks out and Yvonne laughs. ‘He says he’s going to get back down the gym. But he never does.’

‘And you? What are you into?’

‘Definitely not the gym, that’s for sure.’

‘Are you thinking of going back to college? Or,’ she trails off, waiting for him to fill in the blanks. Surely, he’s not just working at the family business.

‘I’m not very academic so college didn’t really gel with me. Since I came back from travelling I’ve been helping out at the trampoline park. But I’m also working on my music.’

‘Your music?’

‘Yeah, I do a bit of producing. I’m really into nu-Jazz at the moment, but still making a lot of funky minimal. Why are you making that face?’

‘I didn’t make a face.’

‘Yes, you did,’ he looks bruised. ‘What’s funny?’

‘I never know what to say when people talk about making music or art. The average age at my company is twenty-three and they’re all at it.’

Kiama puts down his chips and frowns. ‘Nothing wrong with a creative side hustle. What do you do?’

‘Work,’ she replies. ‘I work.’