I’d been early. Ridiculously early. Even after walking until my feet ached, I’d had to sit on the bench outside for what felt like hours, waiting for Abraham to show up. I assumed it would be Abraham, although it had been a month, so it could have been anyone. I’d been the first one in the room, helped him set up the seats, picked one as far away from him as possible. He didn’t ask how I was, where I’d been. He didn’t seem to care.

Donna had smiled when she saw me. Welcome back, she’d said, sliding onto the seat next to mine. Her hair was freshly bleached, almost glowing, loose over her shoulders. It made me itch, touch my own, make sure it was safely tucked away at the back of my head. We were wondering where you’d got to.

I’ve been busy, I’d replied, shrugging. I’d been careless. I’d forgotten what happened last time and I’d been careless. Work.

I didn’t know why I lied, but it seemed easier than explaining.

‘I’ve lived a good long life,’ Beryl went on. ‘I have kids and grandkids and I outlived my first husband—who was a right bastard and it’s not nice to say it but I was a little bit glad when I heard that he’d gone under that truck. It would have been nice if he’d suffered more, maybe, but I was just glad he was gone.’

Geoff had touched me on the shoulder and told me I looked good. I hadn’t said anything. I didn’t feel like I looked good. My throat hurt from all the cigarettes I’d smoked and the Thoughts were rattling me. So many, so suddenly, and I didn’t understand why. It was just a picture. It didn’t mean anything. He wasn’t with her. He was with me, and he wanted to go travelling with me—he grinned, his eyes twinkled. He wanted to. It didn’t change anything we’d talked about. If I asked him, he’d go to New York. ‘I’ve been once,’ he’d say, ‘but we should go again.’ It would be fine.

But still, I’d left, and now I was here.

I pushed my hands into my hoodie, trying to imagine being as old as Beryl, being married twice, once to a violent arsehole and then to the love of her life, who died of bowel cancer at fifty-five, having all those kids and grandkids and just marking off the days, wondering how many were left. I wondered if it got boring, being around that long, seeing the world spin around the sun that many times. I wondered if anything surprised her anymore.