I was about to head right up to the other end of the village, to the very top of the hill where the air is thinner, where the Heath begins with its raggedy entryways and endless vistas and its futuristic view of the pointy glass towers all the way over the other side of London, and I turned, and as I turned I saw that I was face-to-face with a man and that man was Roan.
I wasn’t wearing my hood up so he recognised me immediately and for a tiny beat it was a bit awkward. He was wearing a cloth cap and a padded coat and was carrying a huge Reiss carrier bag with the word ‘Sale’ printed on it in red. He hadn’t shaved and looked kind of bizarre.
He said, ‘Hi, Saffyre. Wow, how are you?’
‘I’m good. I’m good,’ I said. ‘How are you?’
He glanced down at his big bag. ‘I’m great. Just exchanging a gift that didn’t fit.’
‘From your wife?’ I said, before I could check myself.
‘Yes,’ he said, and I noticed his smile set like cement. ‘Yes. Too big. Unfortunately.’
I nodded encouragingly and smiled.
‘And you?’ he said. ‘You’re OK?’
‘Yeah. Well, my granddad died.’ I shrugged. ‘A couple of months ago. So that was bad.’
‘Oh, Saffyre, I’m really sorry to hear that.’
‘You know,’ I said. ‘One of those things, isn’t it? People die.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, people die, that is true. But it is horrible. I’m very sorry for your loss. I know how close you all were. How are you coping?’
‘Well, you know, in some ways it’s easier? Because Aaron doesn’t have to do so much cooking and caring and stuff. But in other ways, it’s shit really, because my family is just too small now. It’s too, too small.’
I said this lightly, like maybe it was a joke, but I think it came out more emotional than I intended because Roan put his hand onmy arm and looked at me with great concern and said, ‘Do you think you need to talk this through with someone?’
I thought, Ha, yeah, right, because you did such a good job of fixing me last time I came to you broken, didn’t you?
But I kind of laughed it off. ‘No, honestly. It’s all good. Just takes a bit of getting used to.’ Then there was a brief pause and I said, ‘How’s the family?’
He made a weird shape with his mouth and nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘We’re all good.’
And then – and there’s no point telling me that I shouldn’t have done this because it’s too late now, I did it, it’s done – I looked him hard in the eye and I said, ‘How’s Alicia?’
Strike me down dead. Whatever. He deserved it. Standing there in his poncey cap with a coat in a bag that his wife bought him because she stupidly thought he was her loyal husband, not some horny sex beast.
‘Sorry?’ he said, and I could see the panic swimming about in his eyes, like tiny tadpoles.
‘How’s Alicia?’ I asked again, and then I got the adrenaline rush to my heart as my brain finally caught up with what my mouth was doing. ‘Your colleague.’
He nodded, then shook his head and said, ‘Sorry? But how do you know Alicia? Have you been back to the clinic?’
I just shook my head and smiled at him.
I could see him scrambling for the next thing to say or do and I decided that now was the time to step away from the hand grenade I’d just unpinned. I said, ‘Anyway, nice seeing you, Roan. Have a happy holiday.’
He turned as I left and said, ‘But, Saffyre – what did you mean by that?’
‘Can’t stop. Must dash.’
I walked that last leg of the hill at about a hundred miles an hour. Dainty trees full of twinkly white pom poms. Restaurants full of rich people. I passed art galleries, estate agents, nail bars with pink chandeliers. It was properly dark by the time I got to the top. I stood with my hands on my hips and looked down, my breath coming in and out of me so loudly I could hear it.
34
Owen is in a room with pale blue walls, a plate-glass window on one side, a tall thin window on the other with opaque, textured glass and three vertical white metal bars.
