‘The fact that none of your clothes really fit you. And when I first met you I couldn’t guess your age, because from afar you look like an ageing university professor.’
‘What, you’re saying that battered corduroy trousers and ancient knitwear aren’t a vibe?’ He raises a dark eyebrow, his eyes flashing with something she can’t quite identify.
‘It’s definitely a vibe. “Owns a fossil collection” vibe. Which now I know you probably do.’
‘I’m not sure I’d call it acollection…’
She laughs, catching him looking at her, mouth slightly open, eyes darting across her face. Heat rushes to her cheeks. They are close enough that she can smell the eucalyptus and mintof his aftershave, mixed with the lingering smell of coffee and books. He smellsgood. So good she can almost imagine what it might feel like to do something stupid like taking a step forward, leaning her nose in close to the exposed nape of his neck –
‘Mum wanted my help sorting through his wardrobe,’ Alfie explains, jolting Tilly back to her senses. ‘She wanted to get rid of everything – that was her way of coping. But I just couldn’t do it. Everything smelt like him. So, I bagged everything up and took it all home with me, telling her I’d deal with it. But the next day I put on one of his jumpers and it felt so … comforting … that after that, when I got dressed, instead of heading to my own wardrobe I reached for the pile of his things. Until I sort of forgot how I used to dress and just wore his things all the time. Like a completely crazy person.’
‘It’s not crazy. I’ve been trying to sort the flat out this week, going through Joe’s things, and it’s not going well. I haven’t thrown away a single thing. I’m failing spectacularly at this month’s book. He gave me a book about tidying – and the flat is more chaotic than ever.’
‘I think the books he chose were intended more as guidebooks, not a map,’ Alfie says steadily. ‘It’s up to you what you do with them.’
Tilly is aware that her throat suddenly feels tight, her palms clammy. Her voice wobbles as she says, ‘I just feel like I keep taking these steps forward, but in other ways I’m still stuck exactly where I was.’
Because when the grief hits her it still feels as sharp as ever. Shouldn’t it feel easier by now? When will her heart stop feeling like it’s too big for her chest, like all the pain and love inside of her could just burst out, breaking her in half?
‘I feel like this is an important step, one Ishouldbe ready to take. But honestly, I’m not sure that I am. Or if I ever will be. And that makes me feel like I’m letting him down.’
‘Tilly.’
Alfie reaches for Tilly’s hands in her lap, holding them there with his own. His eyes fix on her, shining with a fierceness but a softness too.
‘You’re forgetting that I met Joe. When he came into the bookshop to order your books, he talked about you.’ His eyes dart across her features, and the grip on her hands tightens as if he is trying to press his words into her through his fingertips, so that she will remember them and maybe believe them. ‘I don’t think there’s anything you could ever do to let him down.’
They finish tidying the shop together and say goodbye, Alfie staying behind to cash up the till.
Once she’s stood on the street, she lets out a breath, glad to be in the open air. But there’s a part of her that wants to be back inside, opening another bottle of wine and talking about the things she never manages to find the words for with anyone else.
She thinks back to the moment when Alfie held her hands, his eyes fixed on hers, and how she had imagined what it would feel like to be wrapped up tightly against his chest, the roughness of his beard scraping against her cheek, his strong arms clasped firmly around her back.
Just for a moment it would have been nice to be held.
Alfie switches off the lights one by one.
He can still catch the lingering trace of Tilly’s perfume and the smell he’s come to know as her – apples and tea and a touch of vanilla. All he can think about is the feeling of her skin beneath his hands.
It took all his strength not to reach out a thumb to wipeaway the tear that made a trail down her pale cheek, and to stop himself from pulling her soft body into his arms. He had so nearly leant forward, bridging the gap between them, but he managed to stop himself at the last moment.
Because despite the way she makes him feel – safe and calm and like his worries about the future don’t exist for a moment – Alfie knows she is not his to hold, and that his will never be the arms she wants around her.
Book Lane Recommends
Poetry books for every feeling
Set Me On Fire: A Poem for Every Feelingby Ella Risbridger
Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Timesby Neil Astley
Every Day is a Fresh Beginning: Meaningful Poems for LifebyAoibhín Garrihy
I Wish I Knew: Comforting Words to Strengthen Your Soulby Donna Ashworth
The Peace of Wild Thingsby Wendell Berry
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