‘It was good to meet you, Michael.’ She leans forward, her hair skirting along my jawline. I try not to inhale too loudly. Her mouth leans in, close to my ear. ‘Write to me.’ She pushes the corner of paper into my hand then pulls back, eyes searching mine.
‘I will.’
I look down at the address, but when I look back up, she’s already on the bus walking towards the back, like she’s making her way towards her future and I’m left behind.
My eyes stay on her as I walk along the side of the bus. She sits down on the back seat, turns to me with her hand pushedup against the foggy glass, a smile in place. My hand lifts up and stays that way long after the bus has already rounded the corner.
I pull on my jacket. It’s still warm from her skin, and smells faintly of cherries. I begin walking back along the road when a glint on the pavement catches my eye. I bend and pick it up. Her ring. The sapphire in the centre catching the streetlights.
I hold it in my palm. My vision blurs, and my stomach flips like Kate’s just driven sixty miles an hour over a speed bump, with me in the passenger seat.
I rest a hand on the wall, steadying my balance.
The world comes back into focus. Grey clouds hiding the sunrise. I look at the ring again then close my fist around it.
‘I’ll get it back to you. I promise.’
And I know that as the wind picks up around me, and as the street light flickers off, that I’ll do whatever it takes.
5
ALICE
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Oh. God.
I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth, my head pounding. It takes me a moment to orientate myself: small lounge, white walls, grey carpet, boxes. No Ryan. No job.
At least I’m not on a random bus though. That’s something.
I peel my stiff neck from the sofa arm, eyeing the bottle of brandy on top of a box that once contained high-end wine. It was a bottle I had bought Ryan for his birthday. When I’d found it inside one of the boxes, hunting for a duvet, it had been like a deliberate knife to the heart. And so, I had opened it. And… swigged straight from the bottle while researching Michael.
Jesus.
I look around the room. It’s like a scene from the low-budget police procedural. Boxes are half unpacked, the contents trailing out like entrails, and on the wall?—
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The sound is aggressive. More insistent this time.
‘Alice! You in there?’
Oh crap. I pull myself upright, the room swimming. I’m trying not to look at the pages of images I’d printed off in my bitter brandy-fuelled haze after Josie had left last night, and which I’d Blu-Tacked to the wall. I have a vague memory of searching for my printer, emptying boxes to find some paper, and— Where did I even find Blu-Tack? Shit. Now I remember that I hadn’t. I’d used chewing gum. Perfect. I’m sure that will be a delight to remove from the newly painted walls.
I trip over my laptop, the movement jolting it into action. I squint down at the eighties playlist that I must have selected on Spotify.
‘Alice!’ Spencer’s voice comes from behind the door. There’s a frantic edge to it and I wonder how long it took me to come around.
‘Coming!’ I run a hand through my tangled hair, fingers snagging on a rough piece of gum. Wonderful.
I open the door a crack, the harsh morning light searing my retinas.
‘Spence, what are you doing here?’ My voice is like gravel.
