‘Which was?’

‘I feel energized. I feel… awake.’

He knew she was telling the truth, could hear it in the buoyancy of her tone, the lightness. Such a difference from the first time he’d heard her voice. It made his chest ache. He wished more than anything else in the world he’d been there to see it today, to see her climb from the car, a look of joy and exhilaration on her face. He was so proud of her.

If they had been proper friends, the kind that met up and saw each other face to face once in a while, he would have suggested going out to celebrate. He was on the verge of asking her anyway, but then he sobered.

No. She had other friends for that. Better friends for that.

Friends? Come on! Tell the truth. At least to yourself. You want more than that.

No point, he replied to himself firmly. If I can’t even manage ‘friends’, what’s the point in taking it any further?

As Anna began to describe in detail her experiences at the racetrack, Brody wandered back into the house, paying more attention to her words than he did to where he was going. He ended up in his study. Leaving the light off, he eased himself into his armchair and looked up at the bookshelf. The little wooden figure that should have been an elf sat in front of the top row of paperbacks. It hadn’t seemed right to leave her in the dark and cobwebby workshop.

She wasn’t looking down on him, keeping him company. Instead, she looked off into the lavender twilight, staring into her distant future. A future full of fresh territory, fresh challenges. That was where she belonged.

Anna was moving on.

That was good. It was what she needed, what he wished for her, but he couldn’t help feeling that, at the same time, she was moving away too. Oh, she’d probably still call for the next few months, possibly even the next year or two. She’d still tell him about her life, but that didn’t mean the distance between them wouldn’t increase. It didn’t mean it wouldn’t grow into a chasm.

Because there she was, blossoming. Becoming.

Whereas he was stuck in this damn chair. And it wasn’t even a particularly nice armchair. A spring had broken at the back of the seat and the arms were becoming threadbare.

‘Did this happen to you?’ she asked. ‘At some point in your journey out of grief, did you… I don’t know how to put it… Did you suddenly feel as if there might be hope, that life might be okay again one day? Not the same, of course, but just better than it had been?’

Brody crafted his answer carefully. ‘There certainly have been times where I’ve felt lighter than others.’ He wasn’t going to admit to her he’d been feeling hollow and empty for so long, he’d kind of got used to it.

‘And was it, you know, a moment, like I had, or was it a slower process?’