Penny knocked on Thomas’s door, hearing a dog yapping on the other side of it. He answered wearing grey jogging bottoms that sat low on his hips, and a grey t-shirt that hung just a sliver above his waistband so that he revealed enough flesh to distract Penny’s gaze. He was a beautiful man, she’d give him that. Maybe she thought that now because it was the first time she’d seen him dressed in anything other than a label. He was obviously halfway through changing.

‘Hello, you,’ Thomas said.

‘Hey,’ said Penny, smiling. ‘Hi. I was a bitch before, and I’ve come to say sorry.’

‘Do you want to come in?’

Penny looked at him. ‘Um …’ she said, and in her hesitation Thomas’s face softened. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You’re not into this anymore, are you?’

Penny shrugged. ‘I want to be, but … no,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Penny,’ said Thomas. ‘That’s okay. It’s a laugh until it’s not, right?’

‘Right.’

‘And you deserve everything your heart wants. Even if your heart doesn’t want me.’

‘I owe you a lot, though,’ said Penny.

Thomas furrowed his brow in question.

‘You showed me a side to this place that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise. You got me out of the pub and into the hills, and other restaurants, and parks and pubs.’

‘Well you know,’ Thomas said, ‘we can still do that. I like you, Penny – I’d love to see you when I’m back, hang out, catch up.’

Penny smiled. ‘I’d like that too,’ she said, understanding implicitly that she could be his friend, because she’d never felt that deeply about him as a lover. And, of course, the reason she and Francesco could never have simply been friends, was precisely the opposite: she didn’t just love him. She was in love with him.

‘I don’t want to take up your day off,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to say …’

Thomas opened his arms to her. ‘Don’t say anything, Pen. It’s okay. We’re okay.’

Less than a minute after he’d opened the door to her, he closed it again, and Penny already felt lighter.

I should have treated you better, Penny typed into the text thread with Francesco. Everything she wanted to say to him was a variation of the same thing.

I screwed up.

I wish you hadn’t left.

I’m sorry.

She stared at the text box, debating, like she always did, on whether to send it.

She didn’t.

I think I want to have a baby, she typed. I want a family. I’m excited!

She deleted that, too.

24

It was two weeks later, in the middle of March, when Uncle David and Eric came to visit, along with Rima and Clementine.

‘Look at it here,’ Uncle David said. ‘I hardly recognize it!’