Connie was careful to stay just as still, just as bland as I was. She drew a swift breath and with a single blink wiped from her eyes whatever sentiment my words might have brought. “Are you still together?”

“No, we’re not. We, um—broke up a few weeks ago.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t bore you with the details.” I shifted slightly. “I—I’m actually moving to London.”

Connie raised an eyebrow. “London?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t…When?”

“Next week.”

She was silent again. Her hands sat folded on her lap and she twitched them, the only sign of movement in the still room.

“Next week? When did you decide this?”

“It’s been an abstract plan for a while but now…I decided the other day that it’s time to just do it. You know that I’ve planned on leaving here ever since I was a child.”

“Does Orla know? Or Molly?”

“They do. Orla’s planned a trip in August and I think Molly’s gonna join her.”

“And what are you planning on doing? In London?”

“An old friend of Claire’s owns a record shop in Camden. She called him up last week, explained she has a daughter who just finished school. He was happy to offer me a job there.”

“You’re not going to go to college?”

“I’ve looked into part-time courses I can do at the weekend, in Journalism. You know I’ve never been mad about going to college. Claire is happy to give me the bit of money she was saving up for me to go, to use for rent. I’ve found a flat near the shop. It’s small, obviously. Probably a bleeding kip. But…I just wanna get out of here. Not waste four years on some stupid degree.”

Connie nodded, clearing her throat. “You’re going to London.” The chaos of the night before us seemed far—off and distant now, in light of her current proximity. All that had happened less felt to be surreal, nothing more than a dream that had slipped away to the back of my conscious. Inconsequential. Floating around somewhere in the back of my mind, vague details not concrete enough to be considered a reality. After a moment she spoke again. “It was this night two years ago.”

“I know.” I closed my eyes when I gulped and shook my head. “I know, Con.”

“Well, not this exact date. But…Orla’s birthday…”

I glanced across at her. “I take it you broke up with Jim Lewis?”

“Yeah,” she breathed. She pursed her lips together. “I did.”

“Why?”

Connie shrugged limply. “It was the right thing to do.”

“And Aidan? What was that about?”

“He’s…I don’t really know. I suspect Jim told him he thinks I broke up with him because I like someone else and he got it into his head that meant him.”

The edges of my lips quirked up into a sad, barely conceivable smile. “I’m not gonna ask about that.”

“No. Probably for the best.”

I inhaled again and sighed through my nose. “So long as you’re happy,” I murmured, and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back and when she looked at me again her eyes were dark and wet, full to the brim. She looked vulnerable and soft, so different from the cold exterior that had become her daily mask, and something churned in my chest.