“I always like this bit of the Thames best.”
We’d passed Greenwich, the river wider here, the history of the city painted on walls and architected across the silhouettes of buildings. The old and new stood shoulder to shoulder by the Thames, buildings from centuries ago held the sky up alongside glass skyscrapers and brutalist concrete. If I had an afternoon to myself, I’d take the Clipper up and down the Thames, dazingat the city that never stopped moving, the numerous bridges holding the north and south banks together, whether they liked it or not.
Sometimes I’d get off near St Paul’s and rummage around the business district; other times I’d find myself in Soho, down an alleyway of bookshops and return home with a lesser bank balance, because who could resist a signed special first edition with pretty sprayed edges?
Not me.
“Why here?”
“Because it was an afterthought. Silvertown used to fascinate me – it ruled itself at one point. They had their own laws.” His face had relaxed, shoulders down for the first time since we’d met up. “I’m going mudlarking on Sunday.”
“You’ve got your permit already?”
He nodded, satisfied. He’d gotten into mudlarking – searching for artefacts along the banks of the Thames – when he first moved to London. The other career Carter would’ve liked to have pursued was in history. He’d spent hours talking to my Aunt Victoria about doing that for his degree and what it would involve. His dad hadn’t been supportive of it though, not saying he couldn’t do it, but casting enough doubt on what he’d do as an actual career to make sure Carter chose medicine.
“I sorted it a few weeks ago. Even if I wasn’t coming back permanently, I’d decided to take three months out to visit.”
I felt him stiffen next to me. Something had happened recently, something that would account for him not being in touch and telling me and then making a sudden decision to move back.
I wouldn’t ask now. Carter was as stubborn as I was and would only say his piece in his own time.
“Where are you mudlarking?”
“We haven’t decided yet. I’m going with Pete, so he’ll check the tides and what’s being said on the forums. Are you still doing huge Sunday lunches with your family?”
“Sometimes. Maybe once a month, and it’s who can get there. I think Christmas was the first time in about three months since I’ve been in the same room as my brothers and sisters. Everyone’s just so busy.” Which was a blessing and a curse. Having everyone together was chaos and difficult in many ways, but great at the same time. We bickered – my dad and his six siblings made a tradition of bickering and teasing each other and that had been passed on to my generation – but we got along on a deeper level.
Still, one Sunday in four was about what I could cope with. Carter had loved it though, partly because his family was so small and his dad was often at work, even when he wasn’t meant to be.
“What are they doing now?’
I told him in more detail about my sister and brothers, all younger than me. He remembered them as being just a bit more than babies, sometimes helping me babysit when they weren’t old enough to be left on their own – or shouldn’t, because they had Callaghan genes which meant they were categorised as having the same potential as a nuclear weapon.
I didn’t have Callaghan genes: Seph was my stepfather, although that was just a technicality because he’d been a huge part of bringing me up and including me in his family, along with my mum, who he still worshipped.
We took the Elizabeth Line to Canary Wharf and then walked back from the Tube station to my apartment, the same place I’d been in since Carter was last here, with no reason to move.
Harriet was sprawled on the sofa with a pizza and a re-run of Kenneth Branagh in Much Ado About Nothing on the TV – she would’ve been the only non-heathen who would’ve gone tosee Twelfth Night with me, but she’d been away at an aunt’s in Newcastle.
“Carter!” She sat up too suddenly, disrupting a pit of cushions and almost flipping her pizza. “The wanderer returns!” She shot into his arms for a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Congrats on the new job.” He hugged her hard, and a familiar spike of jealousy poked.
I’d always considered Carter to be more mine than anyone else’s. He’d been friends with all four of us, but he lived in a house where I’d slept and stayed, and we’d been to the same school. I was the person he hunted down at lunchtimes, knowing I felt the unorganised busyness too much and would find places to hide with a book. He’d been my safe person, a rock, and for me, that had given me a weird sense of ownership over him which I’d never discussed.
“Thank you.” Harriet sat back down with her pizza. “You’re at Rose’s hospital so you’re not far from here. Might I find you on the couch after a long shift in the future?”
“Maybe.” The smile left his face. “Will have to see what my shifts are like. When do you move to Stratford?”
“March. I’m just working my notice and finding somewhere to live. I might have to stay in a hotel or Air B&B for a few weeks depending how long it takes to complete purchasing somewhere, so it could be a bit all over for a while.”
They started to talk about Stratford and I went and made tea for us, needed a few minutes of silence while the kettle boiled. Carter was back and himself and like he’d never been away, but something had changed and I wasn’t sure whether it was him or me.
It was late when he left, all caught up with Harriet and already pulling me into his conversations with teasing and debates. I walked him to the door of the apartment block, the night even colder with a wind that bit with sharp teeth.
“It feels like I’ve never been away.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in close to his thick coat and scarf that kept getting in the way.
“That’s weird though,” I moved my head so I could look at him. “Because you have been away and things will have changed.”
