‘A little.’

‘We could—’

‘No,’ I said, not sure what he was going to suggest. ‘I’m fine. This is nice.’

‘Okay.’ He shrugged. I felt his shoulder again.

‘If you could pick one …’ I started, reaching for the bottle of vodka. I didn’t need any more to drink, but I was thirsty. My throat felt raw, my voice sounded strange. ‘What would it be?’

‘One what?’

I took a sip, felt the heat. Somewhere, just behind my ears, something was biting at me, telling me to stop, but I didn’t.

‘One view.’ I didn’t want to. ‘One place.’

‘One view?’

‘Yeah.’ My chest hurt. I had another sip but it still hurt.

He frowned, catching my eye and then looking away. ‘It depends.’

I didn’t say anything, waited.

‘I like mountains. Nepal. The Himalayas. Not that I’d ever climb one—I’m not insane or rich enough.’ He laughed. ‘But they’re impressive to look at.’

‘Did you know,’ I went on, passing him the bottle, ‘that Nepal’s main export is carpets?’

‘I did not.’ His eye caught mine again and this time he held my gaze for a second. I felt a shiver down my spine, a sudden breeze.

‘Well now you do.’ I looked away, finding my tobacco and searching for a filter. Something was off. Something was different. Him. Me. Definitely me. I was different—drunker than I’d realised. Giddy. ‘Is that your one place?’

‘What?’

I found a filter, touched it to my lip—eventually, my hand shaking so much I missed the first time—twice, let it rest. ‘Your one place that you’d go. If you had to pick one.’

Tom laughed. ‘Probably not. I just think the views would be amazing.’

Paper. Tobacco. Rolled. Touched the end. Perfectly cylindrical. But I didn’t feel like lighting it. I looked down at my feet, dangling over the water. His feet, next to mine. His were perfectly still while my heel kept bouncing off the stone, keeping time.

‘So where?’ I asked. It seemed important suddenly.

‘Just one?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

I shook my head. ‘Come on. Everyone has one. Even people like me who’ve never been anywhere.’

My voice felt funny forming the words, and I regretted them right away, even more so when his eyebrow came up. ‘Really?’ he replied. ‘And what’s yours?’

I pulled back. ‘I asked you first.’

‘So are we talking country? City? Experience? Landmark? What?’

‘Anything. Just the one place.’ I reached for the vodka and took a sip—more than a sip. ‘If you found out tomorrow that you were going to die, where would you go?’

He looked at me again. Neither of us had moved but suddenly it felt like he was sitting too close. ‘How long have I got?’