She grows quiet, shoulders folding inward, her thoughts clearly somewhere faraway.
“I’m not on social media either anymore,” I eventually volunteer to dispel the tension. “Nor do I travel. I used to live out of a suitcase. Now I barely leave Kent.”
“Do you miss it? Travelling?”
“No,” I say immediately. “Whitstable suits me.”
I hope you like it there too,I nearly add.
“Was it the sunny days that drew you?” She smirks.
“Actually, it doesn’t normally rain much this time of year. Bit of a stereotype.”
She indicates the rain pelting the windscreen, her eyebrow arched.
“Statistical anomaly, actually,” I say. “I’ll have you know that June is one of the driest months for us.”
She indicates the windscreen again, and I laugh.
Nova’s ghost gives a long, pointed yawn before finally fading, the tension in my chest going with her.
The silence that follows is gentler, Lily-Anne humming again. She seems more tired now, her eyes unfocused as motorway signs blur past.
“There’s a service station up ahead if you’d like breakfast,” I offer.
“I’m fine for now,” she says, stifling a yawn.
“Alright. Why don’t you try to sleep?”
“That’s okay. I thought I’d be jet-lagged, but I’m wide awake. Besides, I don’t want to miss anything.”
I don’t reply, just give that small, useless smile I seem to give when I’ve run out of words.
She cracks the window and breathes in. I do the same, the cool air clearing my head.
A floral scent reaches me, with a hint of citrus, and I realise it’s Lily-Anne’s perfume. I inhale softly.
Eventually, the city falls away behind us, the fog thinning to reveal hedgerows and gently rolling hills.
“These seat warmers are so toasty,” she sighs contentedly, sinking deeper into her seat.
“Don’t fall asleep—you might miss something,” I tease, repeating her words back to her.
A soft laugh. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
But her eyes drift shut, and a minute later, her head tips onto her shoulder, her breath slowing in sleep.
I reach over and carefully return the thermos to its cupholder. Blonde waves spill over her shoulder, falling across her eyes. I resist the urge to smooth them away.
Instead, I steal another glance at her. Then another.
And then I keep my eyes wide open and fixed on the road.
5
Baggage
Lily-Anne
