“That ship may have left port.”
“I know.”
“I’m the watch manager here.”
“I know that too.”
“And tonight is your last shift.”
“Also true.”
“And after that you go back to Carlisle.”
His face stills.
“Yes.”
There is the shape of it.
The thing neither of us named in my flat because naming it would have made it larger than we had time for.
The end of this strange, intense, temporary arrangement that has somehow become the centre of my life in less than two weeks.
AJ looks at me carefully. “That doesn’t have to mean—”
The kitchen door swings open.
Kev walks in.
AJ steps back so quickly it would be funny under any other circumstances.
Kev stops, looks at us, then at the mug on the draining board.
“You two having a management discussion about washing up?”
“Yes,” I say.
At exactly the same time, AJ says, “Mugs.”
Kev looks between us.
Then nods slowly. “Important.”
“Vital,” AJ says.
I pick up the nearest clipboard because I need to look like a person with a reason to exist in this room.
Kev opens a cupboard. “Don’t mind me. Emergency biscuit retrieval.”
“No one was minding you,” I say.
“Good. That’s the tone I likefrom management.”
AJ clears his throat. “I’ll go find Dan.”
“Inventory romance,” Kev says into the cupboard. “Beautiful.”
“What?” I say, too fast.
