‘Don’t tell anyone or they’ll all want some.’

I took it. It was easier. She kept pulling them out. Some of the sheets separating until they were almost see-through. One after another, after another. ‘Treat yourself to something nice,’ she said.

‘Weather turned out nice again,’ Alex says.

For a minute it doesn’t register. I’m about to nod and then I see his face and we both laugh. He looks even younger when he smiles. The staff door blows open and there’s a quick blast of Glenn Miller, ‘String of Pearls.’ It’s too upbeat and I’ve heard it too often. They must be serving tea already and I really should be helping inside. The sky goes even darker, like someone’s twisting a dimmer switch, and then the hail starts, great stinging globs of it coming in diagonally, hitting us in the face. For God’s sake. I’m laughing now and so’s he and I reach out without thinking and hold onto his arm to steady myself and we both go to pull our hoods up at the exact same moment and turn towards the wall. I can’t breathe. Like when Baba used to tickle me under the chin before bed and his fingers were too rough and it went on for too long. I wanted him to stop, but not to go away. Everything’s a bit too close, too intimate. Both of us laughing like idiots. His fingers so long and thin. The nails bitten down to the quick.

‘Bloody hell,’ he says. ‘Is someone trying to tell us something?’

They are, I want to say, except he’d think I’m crazy. Everything feels like a sign. The new couple and the envelope and the weather and this moment right now. Someone’s trying to tell me something, even if I don’t want to hear it. Whatever’s meant to be will be, Insha’Allah. Do the best with what you’re given. Keep moving forward on the right path. God willing. Allah permitting. I start to laugh again. I can’t keep it back. It’s taking over. The hails stops as quickly as it started and leaves us with the rain again. We stand apart. It’s not funny anymore. He’s just standing there looking at me. My eyes are streaming and I try to wipe them and thank God I’ve never been bothered with makeup. There are tears mixed up with it and I don’t know whether I’m crying or laughing.

‘Are you ok?’

I nod, then shake my head. I don’t know how to answer that, but I have to say something. I have to try.

‘The thing is, Alex –’ I stop and swallow because my voice is all squeaky and embarrassing, ‘the thing is – don’t think I’m a nutcase or anything – oh God, I’m sorry –’