‘It looks exactly the same,’ Seb says, his voice dreamy.
‘A little older, maybe,’ says Clara, eyes on him. ‘But that’s the charm.’
Nora looks like she’s seen a thousand ghosts, and she’s fascinated with all of them. Clara stands in front of the crumpled stage, perhaps remembering something, swaying ever so slightly. Seb is close behind her, looking like he might movecloser. The estate agent coughs, steps into the shaft of dusty light that filters down through a hole in the high ceiling.
‘It needs a renovation before a refit,’ he says. ‘But we could always—’
‘It’s the one,’ Seb says.
The estate agent splutters. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ve never been surer.’
The rest is a matter of formalities. They shake hands, agree on a time frame, decide to head straight to the office on Great Eastern Street to iron out specifics. As the agent gathers his things, he sees Seb and Clara move towards one another, hug tentatively. It’s stiff, awkward. It doesn’t last long. Seb holds briefly on to Clara’s arm.
‘I can’t believe I’m about to do this,’ he says. Then he turns away from Clara, crouches once again on the grimy floor. ‘Nora?’
The girl is still gazing upwards. Now she turns towards him. She has her mother’s eyes. Under that shaft of light, her hair blazes orange.
‘Yes?’ she says.
‘How would you like to hang out with me sometimes?’ Seb says. ‘Who knows, maybe you can help me rescue this place.’ He glances to Clara. ‘While Mum is at work.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Clara begins, from behind him. ‘I’d never ask you to—’
‘OK,’ Nora says. Then she returns to what she was doing.
Seb stands. Before Clara can say anything, the estate agent steps between them. He needs to get Seb back to the office before closing time. He opens the door and the light fromoutside rushes in, a blast of winter air with it. He ushers them out.
‘Seb,’ Clara says, outside. ‘Do you want to go for a drink after? To celebrate?’
Seb doesn’t say anything for a second. Then: ‘I can’t. Sorry.’
Clara nods silently. Seb grimaces, rubs the back of his shaven head. He glances at Nora, who is lingering back in the doorway. He glances at the estate agent.
‘I’ll get out of your way,’ the estate agent says.
He steps away. But not so far away that he can’t listen in.
‘You asked if we were friends, when we were messaging,’ Seb says, quietly, to Clara. ‘Well, what if we were? What if we could be?’
‘Friends?’ Clara says. ‘I once stormed out of a pub at that suggestion.’
A tense silence, punctuated by the rush of traffic.
‘That was a long time ago,’ Seb says. ‘But, you know…’
The estate agent checks his watch, then glances back at them. Seb is giving her the opportunity to walk away. She doesn’t take it.
‘I hate to say it, but I think you’re right,’ she says. ‘I think we should be.’ She extends her hand. ‘Friends.’
They shake on it. They take a little too long to let go.
‘Maisie and Nimesh will be thrilled,’ Clara says, eventually.
‘I think they’ll be hoping for more.’
Another moment passes between them. Clara tucks her hair behind her ear. Seb watches her do so, his jaw flexing beneath his beard.
