Erin shrugged. “Stranger things have happened, although I think we’d know if Declan ever smiled at you.”
Declan was the love of Harriet’s life, only he really didn’t know she existed. There were all sorts of theories about why that was, the main one being that he was too far up his own arse to notice anyone who wasn’t falling over themselves to get to him, and Harriet wasn’t doing that.
“Let’s finish talking about Carter first.” She took a breath and looked at me. “Fallon found out he’s transferring to her hospital.”
“Makes sense. He’ll probably move back to the house.” The house was one I knew well, as my grandparents had sold it to Carter’s parents just before I found out I had an issue with my heart. Carter’s dad had been my surgeon, continuing my check-ups until I transferred to the adults’ department. My heart was no longer an issue; a hole in the heart mended via a vein in my leg.
“Probably. I thought you’d have known by now,” Fallon finished her wine. “What’s this news, Harri?”
I locked the question of why I hadn’t away in my mind to come back to later, because I had a funny feeling that what Harriet was about to say was going to be explosive.
“Is this to do with the phone call you had before?” There had been half a conversation I’d overheard when I’d been in thebathroom and she’d been in the entrance hall of our apartment, not knowing I was home.
“It is. I had a job interview just before Christmas, a head librarian. It’s a collection of antique books and rare editions that’ve been donated to start a new library. I’ll be overseeing their cataloguing and display.” She smiled serenely, clearly excited although being overly excited wasn’t something Harriet ever really showed. She was quiet, more into books than me, if that was possible, and usually quite reserved.
“Congratulations,” I said, glad of the distraction, pleased for her. “Sounds like it’ll be interesting. Where is it?”
“That’s the thing.” She looked at each of us in turn. “It’s in Stratford.”
“Easy enough to get to.” We were in Bow, central enough to get to most places easily.
“Upon-Avon.”
The room lost its air.
“How will you commute there?” Erin frowned. “That’s going to be an awful lot of travel.”
“I won’t be commuting.” Harriet was looking at me. “I’ll be moving there. I start after Easter.”
“Oh, shit.” Fallon reached out for a piece of cheese that was on a plate on a side table. “I mean, congrats and it sounds fab, but you can’t move.”
Harriet laughed and shook her head again. “It’s too good an opportunity, and I love Stratford-Upon-Avon. It’s time for a change too.”
I sat up at little straighter, the news having made my shoulders slump. “We can have weekends with you.”
“You can. And we can go weeks without seeing each other, so this might mean we see each other more. It’s a chance to make my mark as the catalogue is huge and rare – as in, people would steal these. I can afford to buy somewhere as well, whichhas been a goal for forever, and I can’t do that in London.” She looked at me. “I’m sorry, you’ll have a flatmate sized hole.”
“You can keep your room here, then you have somewhere to stay.” I was fortunate, my Aunt Ava had a portfolio of properties, my apartment block being part of it, so I’d been lucky enough to pay a peppercorn rent. My parents were keen for me to get on the property ladder too, but I hadn’t seen anything yet that would suit. Harriet had lived with me rent free, which had helped her save up, and she wasn’t a huge spender, her mum a single parent who had always been a bit chaotic. Harriet had spent a lot of school holidays with me and my family rather than with her mum in Kent.
She smiled at me. “See what happens and thank you. So that’s my news.”
“We’ll have to plan a leaving party.” Fallon needed very little excuse to be sociable.
Harriet was a different matter.
“I’d rather not, but if you must, make it low key. I don’t want a fuss.” She tucked her feet under her legs and pulled a blanket over her. “Who’s making the tea?”
I stood up, thirsty and wanting to move. This was a change, and I could find change difficult unless I took a step back and analysed it, processed it. I’d become a psychologist to understand myself first, and then I’d gone on to unpicking others, finding it fascinating, looking at how they were made from their experiences, their childhoods. I was based at the hospital, working on the wards where we treated adolescents with acute mental health difficulties. It was complex and frustrating and interesting, and in many cases rewarding. I worked alongside nurses and psychiatrists, supported parents and siblings and every day was different. I oversaw treatment plans and therapy and was starting to specialise in children who had been accused of committing crimes. The last few monthshad been intense and I knew I needed to get better at finding my space away from my work.
Which was probably why I hadn’t thought too much about the lack of contact from Carter. We had periods when we would text or talk several times a week, and then a week could go by because our shifts didn’t align or work was busy, and the habit was lost.
I was surprised though that he hadn’t told me he was moving here. Surprised he hadn’t at least sent a text and that I’d found out through someone else.
We were all friends with Carter. He’d just moved to London when we were being treated by his father, and he’d spent a few hours on the ward. I’d also met him because of the house connection; his bedroom was the same as my dad’s had been as a kid, and I walked past his house on the way to school each day.
He attended the same school, three years ahead of me, and we ended up walking there together, talking about books and sport and our families. He stuck up for me at school when things got tricky, got me out of trouble when I had a house party as a teenager without my parents knowing and for a while was my best friend.
I missed him, when I had time, and I was hurt he hadn’t thought to tell me he was coming back to London.
