Shay regards her.
Does he hold a candle for you, she says, and if Nora was still drinking her wine she’d spit it out, droplets spraying, ludicrous, laughable. Instead, glad of the darkness in the yard as her cheeks glow afresh, she says no! No. He was – is – my best friend. Aside from you.
Good save.
Our mothers are close, Nora says. We’re still. You know.
Shay waits.
In touch, Nora says, with a shrug. She can see people drifting into the kitchen through the glass of the back door, looking for more crisps or wine.
I should, she says, nodding inside. But you’re right, Shay. We’re friends. It’s a nice, normal thing that he’s here. I should go and talk to him.
She is still looking at the back door, at the square of gold light through the glass. At the people she knows. The people she expected to see.
No candles here, she says, and Shay nods. Says cool.
Back inside, they get caught talking to more friends, but eventually she’s in the lounge again, only to see Bren in the corner with one of Robin’s cousins. Her arm on his. Him, saying something into her ear. And so instead of going to talk, Nora goes to Robin, who is waving at her from the dance floor, shirt unbuttoned now as he jives toNight Fever. Pulling her towards him, twirling her under his arm, everyone cheering, looking at the two of them.
Almost everyone.
Her heartbeat high.
_
Midnight comes, and most people have left. Robin got pleasantly drunk and is asleep on the sofa, danced out and wearing only one shoe. Stragglers kiss the top of his head as they filter out and Nora says goodbye to them at the door, more hugs, more congrats. Shushing them as they make noise down the street, worried about the neighbours, though most of them, in all fairness, had been at the party. Robin’s doing. That ability he has, to befriend pretty much anyone. And then shecloses the door and is left alone in the hall. Soft lamplight from the living room, as she leans her head against the wood. Breathes out.
Bren must have left at some point, while she was dancing or mingling, wondering how to play this and not looking his way.
She can’t believe he did that, she thinks.
Can’t believe she let him.
But she latches the door, straightens her waistcoat. In the living room Robin is snoring lightly and she picks up a few dropped olives off the carpet, gathers empty glasses to take to the kitchen. Down the hall, through the doorway, when her heart stops.
Because he did not leave.
He is there, standing in her kitchen with his back to her. Tanned neckline, laced-up boots. Opening a drawer before closing it, then rolling open another.
Looking for something? she says, and at her voice, Bren pauses. Slides the drawer shut, turns around.
I was just, he says.
Snooping?
She puts the glasses down and Bren clears his throat. A noise that Nora has heard only over the phone, or on a lagging video call, for so long. Something simmers inside of her, like olive oil left on a low heat.
She looks at him looking at her. Sees the pendant around his neck.
Shall we start over, Bren says, and there’s a lightness in his voice.
Start over, she repeats.
Tonight, she wonders, or back twelve years.
From across the room, he half shrugs again with just the one shoulder, easy-going, nonchalant. Waiting for her to gofirst. Standing there with the shadows beneath his eyes, the magnets he’d sent her scattered behind him on the fridge door. Same smile. Same freckles on his neck. As if, like she’d said earlier to Shay in the yard, this is entirely normal.
I know I invited you, Nora says, but you didn’treply. You didn’t say anything.
