I close my eyes, very briefly, and suddenly all I can see is Peter. I open them back up but he’s still there.

‘I love you,

Not only for what

You have made of yourself,

But for what

You are making of me.

I love you

For the part of me

That you bring out.’

He’s sitting cross-legged on my floor, passing me Post-its.

‘I love you

For putting your hand

Into my heaped-up heart

And passing over

All the foolish, weak things

That you can’t help

Dimly seeing there,

And for drawing out

Into the light

All the beautiful belongings

That no one else had looked

Quite far enough to find.’

He’s telling me I am beautiful.

‘I love you because you

Are helping me to make

Of the lumber of my life

Not a tavern, but a temple.’

He’s walking through my door, bringing me spring rolls.

‘Out of the works

Of my every day

Not a reproach

But a song.’

He’s dancing with me, only occasionally stepping on my toes.

‘I love you

Because you have done

More than any creed

Could have done

To make me good,

And more than any fate

Could have done

To make me happy.’

He’s laughing, and I smile back.

‘You have done it

Without a touch,

Without a word,

Without a sign.

You have done it

By being yourself.’

As I reach the last lines, I struggle to read them through the tears.

‘Perhaps that is what

Being a friend means,

After all.’

When the poem is over, I don’t quite know what to do. There is no clapping or anything to signal that I’m done, so I look up. It seems strange to see that nobody else appears to have been quite so affected. Until I spot Tilly. She’s crying too.

I hover for a while on the spot before walking back to my seat, accidentally taking the long way round.

How is everyone remaining so still? I can barely stop trembling. I need to move.

I sneak a glance at Tilly. She’s looking right back at me.

She’s mouthing something to me … Are you OK?

Yes. I nod back.

But I need to leave.

I sit up straighter. Beyond straight. My butt is poking out behind me and my chest is forward, ready to go.

Tilly is still looking at me. I gesture towards the door, and try to mouth back. I have to go. I’m sorry.

She nods and waves me off with her hand and smiles. I know that she knows it must be important.

And it is important.

I leave as quietly as I can, fully aware that this is not very quiet at all.

I have a flashback to Tilly’s hen party and breaking free from the line for the loo.

I need to tell Peter how I feel.

But this time I’ll find the words.

CHAPTER 44

Armed with a message from Mia telling me Peter is at his mum’s house, I run up to my room, collect my bag and check out as quickly as possible.