The world flickered and started up again. Landen opened his eyes and stared at me.

“Banana,” I said, suddenly realizing what it was that my father had shown me.

“Pardon?”

“Banana. They named it after the designer.”

“Thursday, you’re making no sense at all,” said Landen with a bemused grin.

“My dad was just here.”

“Ah. Is he still of all time?”

“Still the same. Listen, I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Me too,” replied Landen, then lapsed into silence. I wanted to touch his face but instead I said:

“I missed you.”

It was the wrong thing to say and I cursed myself; too much, too soon. Landen shuffled uneasily.

“You should take aim more carefully. I missed you a lot too. The first year was the worst.”

Landen paused for a moment. He played a few notes on the piano and then said:

“I have a life and I like it here. Sometimes I think that Thursday Next was just a character from one of my novels, someone I made up in the image of the woman I wanted to love. Now . . . well, I’m over it.”

It wasn’t really what I was hoping to hear, but after all that had happened I couldn’t blame him.

“But you came to find me.”

Landen smiled at me.

“You’re in my town, Thurs. When a friend comes in from out of town, you look them up. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

“And you buy them flowers? Does Colonel Phelps get roses too?”

“No, he gets lilies. Old habits die hard.”

“I see. You’ve been doing well for yourself.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “You never answered my letters.”

“I never read your letters.”

“Are you married?”

“I can’t see that’s any of your business.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

The conversation had taken a turn for the worse. It was time to bale out.

“Listen, I’m bushed, Landen. I have a very big day ahead of me.”

I got up. Landen limped after me. He had lost a leg in the Crimea but he was well used to it by now. He caught up with me at the bar.

“Dinner one night?”

I turned to face him.

“Sure.”

“Tuesday?”

“Why not?”

“Good,” said Landen, rubbing his hands. “We could get the old unit back together—”

This wasn’t what I had in mind.

“Hang on. Tuesday’s not very good after all.”

“Why not? It was fine three seconds ago. Has your dad been around again?”

“No, I just have a lot of things that I have to do and Pickwick needs kenneling and I have to pick him up at the station as airships make him nervous. You remember the time we took him up to Mull and he vomited all over the steward?”

I checked myself. I was starting to blabber like an idiot.