She strolled up to Parliament Hill, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck and tucking her hands deep into the pockets of her new woollen coat. She hadn’t been back here since that day in August; she’d taken to swimming at the indoor pool instead. The heath looked so different with its autumnal clothes on. An orange carpet of leaves covered the footpaths and a crisp, low light shone through the tangle of tree boughs above her head. She picked up a perfect red leaf from the ground, examining the intricate pattern of vessels mapping its thin surface. So beautiful, yet only created to last such a short time before its role on this planet was over, and it would decay into mulch. An unremarkable existence, and yet to look at it – how remarkable.

‘Minnie?’

Minnie jumped, dropping the leaf. She looked up to see Quinn standing in front of her.

‘Oh, you scared me,’ she said, clutching a hand to her chest.

Quinn wore a thick green woollen jumper, a camel coat and dark navy jeans. She hadn’t seen him for months. When you see someone often, you can forget to take in what they look like – they just become a configuration of features and foibles. Then, after an absence, you see them again as though for the very first time. With Quinn, this was like a sledgehammer hitting you with how handsome he was.

‘Sorry, you were looking very intently at that leaf,’ said Quinn, with a cautious smile.

Minnie looked for the leaf she had dropped. She picked it up and put it in her pocket.

‘It’s a great leaf,’ she said, then berated herself for saying something so stupid.

‘I didn’t think you’d come,’ said Quinn.

‘I got your letter,’ said Minnie, ‘but I didn’t know when you’d sent it. It got a bit … damaged.’

‘Oh,’ Quinn looked relieved. ‘I sent it three weeks ago, but I still come here every week, on the off-chance I might run into you.’

He fell into step next to Minnie as they walked down the tree-lined avenue.

‘I tried to call you, then I couldn’t get through. I didn’t want to turn up on your doorstep but I … I needed to explain … ’ Quinn paused; he was nervous.

Minnie scuffed up a pile of leaves with her feet and it gave a satisfying crunch. She stayed quiet, letting him talk.

‘I guess I’m a bit of a screw-up, Minnie. I have issues with feeling needed,’ Quinn blinked and thrust his hands into his pockets. They both walked with their eyes on the path ahead. It was sometimes easier to speak when you weren’t looking at someone. ‘I think I’ve grown up with a messed-up view of what love is. I thought it was love that destroyed my mother, but I realise now, it wasn’t that.’ Quinn shook his head.