She laughs, secretly delighted. ‘He’s the first guy I’ve ever trusted. Apart from you, Angus, but you don’t count.’
‘Thanks,’ he says, before reflecting, ‘Hang on, why don’t I count?’
‘’Cos you’re like a dad to me.’ I catch Angus’s eye, close to tears. Mind you, everything right now is making me want to cry. ‘I know I’ve got to leave,’ Laurie goes on, ‘but the shelter’s been my first real home.’ She bites her lip as she thinks. ‘But I do want to find my forever home. Since I was a little girl, I dreamed about having my own house, no rules, no grown-ups. I could get up when I want, keep my bedroom door unlocked at night, no set days to do the washing, have the TV remote to myself. I could drink juice out of the carton,’ she says, as if imagining herself in her own kitchen now. ‘And fill the fridge with all the things I want to eat, like veggies and fruit. I’d have cats and dogs. And I’d have a kid, a little girl, maybe in a couple of years. We’d go on picnics and I’d read her bedtime stories, all the things I never got.’ She stops, breathless. ‘One day,’ she sighs.
‘One day, Laurie,’ I agree, hoping with all my heart that that day will come.
‘One day,’ Angus says too, ‘and that little girl will be lucky to have you.’
‘Shut up,’ Laurie says, ‘or you’ll make me cry and I don’t want to cry in public. Anyway, how about you, Angus?’ she asks, moving on. ‘What do you want for Chrimbo?’
‘If you’d asked me that six months ago—’ He stops in his tracks. Clears his throat. ‘I’d have said I wanted my old life back.’
‘And now?’ Laurie asks.
‘I still want my old life back, but it’s complicated.’
‘You’re talking in riddles, mate.’ Laurie rolls her eyes. ‘What’s complicated?’
Angus puts down his knife and fork. ‘Sophie’s asked me to stay for Christmas.’
‘That’s great!’ she exclaims. ‘Isn’t it?’
I tell myself there was never any doubt he’d be spending Christmas with his family.
Laurie frowns. ‘What’s the problem? You look like someone’s poked you in the eye with a dirty stick.’ I’m grateful for her being here, to fill the space that I can’t.
‘No problem, it’s all good,’ he says, still avoiding eye contact with me.
‘How about you, Holly?’ Laurie asks.
‘Um, well I’ll be staying with my parents.’Don’t cry.
‘That’ll be nice,’ Laurie says.
‘Lovely,’ I agree, reminding myself to feel grateful for my parents; I have a home to go to. Yet, my gratefulness doesn’t negate the dread. Christmas or any anniversary is hard.
‘Sophie’s asked me back,’ Angus says to Laurie and me.
‘Back?’ Laurie waits. ‘For good?’
Angus nods.
‘Why d’you look so sad then?’ She waits. ‘Holly, what’supwith him?’
‘No idea,’ I say, feeling the colour drain from my face.
Laurie notices I’ve barely touched my food. ‘You haven’t eaten your bacon? What’s wrong with you? You two are freaking me out.’
I feel sleep-deprived and close to tears. ‘Listen, I need to make a move,’ I say, heading to the counter to pay, anything to get away, adding over my shoulder, ‘I’ll do this.’ Alone, I can breathe. It’s going to be OK. This was always going to happen.
Yet the idea of Angus not knocking on my door before we go out for our runs, the idea of not seeing him each Saturday at the café, makes me feel indescribably sad. I wish he hadn’t told me like this, with no warning. Not after the way things were left between us.
‘Let me,’ he says, distracting my thoughts, gesturing to his credit card.
There’s yet another awkward silence until we both say, at the same time, ‘About the other night…’
‘I wanted to tell you earlier,’ Angus claims.
