“Wow, that’s... Congratulations.”
Her long hair’s cropped short, and I can see the floral jumpsuit beneath her coat and scarf. Barbados-ready, classic Melissa. It’s good to see her loved-up and luminous in a way she never was with me.
She looks as though she wants to say something but can’t quite find the words. So, ever the gentleman, I jump in first. “Leon’s all right, is he?”
“Well,” she says, “he’s nicer than you.”
“Good. That’s a start.”
“Just joking. He’s great. Really great.” She looks longingly in the direction of the coffee concession he’s wandered off to. “So where are you heading?”
“Oh—Cornwall. Not quite as exotic as Barbados.”
“Holiday’s a holiday.”
“Er, no—I’m actually moving down there. Fresh start.”
“Wow. I’d have had you living in that flat until you died. No offense.”
Her trademark lack of tact almost stirs up a kind of nostalgia in me. “None taken.”
“What prompted that, then?”
“Family stuff. Long story.”
She tilts her head. “So you’re not still with the girl who lived upstairs?”
The girl who lived upstairs.
“No. She’s... with someone else now. Married, I think.” (Actually, I know. Doug told me—turns out he has an acquaintance in common with Gavin.)
Melissa nods. And, for possibly the first time in the history of our relationship, fails to make a quip. “Have you got a job down there, then? In Cornwall?”
“I have, actually.”
“You’re going back to vetting?”
“Yep.”
She nods again, more slowly this time. Meets my eye and holds it. “Well. Congratulations.”
I feel unexpectedly moved. “Thank you.”
Some seconds pass, and then she reaches up to hug me good-bye. It’s strange to feel her arms around me again. Like rediscovering a favorite piece of clothing, breathing in a familiar scent. “What are all those batty old ladies going to do without you?”
I swallow. It’s not been a great year on my street, mortality-wise. “Just the one now, unfortunately.” (Iris hanging in there, tenacious as ever.)
Melissa pulls back from me. “And you’re not seeing anyone?” Like she doesn’t quite believe I’d have any other reason for moving to Cornwall.
I sigh. “I’d love to, Melissa, but you’re on your honeymoon.”
She laughs throatily in a way I’ve kind of missed. “You know, it was a shame you and I could never be friends.”
“I think we’re friends.”
She lingers for a moment, and I realize she’s finding it hard to say good-bye. “Well, take care of yourself. Try to meet a nice girl.”
“I did. It didn’t work out.”
