‘What? Brown water that smells like rotting feet and walls that are almost coughing up tar?’ She rolls her eyes, then holds up her finger. In the distance, the sound of a train, lights beaming towards us.
‘A train? Hate to break it to you, but?—’
She blows a dark curl away from her face. ‘Just wait, OK?’
Alice leans in towards me, her hair blowing across my shoulder. ‘Ready?’
‘I guess?’
A few seconds pass and then the lights from the train hit the derelict building across the canal. I’ve walked past here so many times, and never once noticed the broken stained glass above. As the beam of light gets closer, it catches the window.
And for one perfect moment, the colours fracture across the canal… Reds, blues, greens: a mosaic of colour.
We stand still, just the sound of the train, and the feeling of something magical simmering between us.
‘You see?’ She looks me straight in the eyes. ‘Beautiful.’
I take in the curve of her smile, the browns of her eyes. ‘Aye.’
She breaks eye contact, rubs her arms. I take off my jacket and place it over her shoulders. It’s too big, and she wraps it closer across her chest. I reach forward, pulling the collar up. We’re so close.
I tilt my head. ‘How come you know about this place?’
She hesitates, like she’s choosing her words carefully. ‘Read about it.Yorkshire’s Diamonds in the Rough.’
‘Last bit of the book?’
She knocks me with her shoulder.
‘Non-fiction doesn’t count.’
Time doesn’t feel like it matters right now. The whole night, well, day now, I guess, feels bigger than it is, as if the night itself doesn’t want to end.
All it would take is one small movement. One step closer. But the sound of a stray dog knocking over a bin breaks the moment in two.
‘We’d better get back,’ she says. ‘I can’t miss the bus.’
Our feet echo as we make our way back through town. The milkman is out, bottles rattling on the truck. A few workers in dark clothes with their heads down pass us by. The sunis starting to rise, pinks and yellows sliding up over the grey concrete.
We sit down on the bench. I should be tired, hungover. Instead, I feel more alive than I have in years. I take out a packet of Juicy Fruit and offer one to Alice.
‘So…’ I begin. Trying to find the right words. ‘It’s been a good ni?—’
Headlights. The rumble of an engine.
Of all the times for the bus to come early.
‘Well, this is me.’ She takes off my jacket, stands, and stretches out an arm. The bus slows down beside us.
‘Wait…’
Her head leans to the right, dark hair catching on the breeze.
The words stumble out of my mouth. ‘I’d really like to see you again.’
‘I know,’ she says. Then she licks her bottom lip, looks to the bus, then back at me. ‘But I’m out of time.’
Alice rubs her hands together then reaches inside her purse, bringing out my drawing. She rips the corner off and takes out her blue eyeliner. She begins writing, despite the parp of the horn from the bus idling beside the kerb.
