Page 120 of Last Night

Yeah it was going to be such a mad rush otherwise, I put my flight back a week. Three of you, luggage and dogs called Leonard would’ve all been welcome. Any friend of yours, etc. x

That’s really nice of you, Fin, thanks. By the way, I got your dad some shortbread in Edinburgh, I forgot to say. I’m his biscuit dealer. Am I alright to call round with it after work tomorrow? 6ish? x

Yes no problem. I’ve been using the cleaner to facilitate mycheck ins so I might use that opportunity when you’re there to put my head round the door? x

Yes please, as that was exactly what I was hoping for and conniving, like a rotter.

Sure! See you there. x

Just to be clear, did you tell Ed you were in love with him too? This is what we call ‘fishing,’ etc etc.x

My heart pounds.

No, because I’m not anymore. x

Good for you. x

Yeah, it feels like it is. x

‘You look very … sparkly, all of a sudden?’ Justin says, awake and giving me a sidelong glance. ‘Who’s that then?’ He nods towards my phone. ‘How are you even getting a signal?’

‘A friend.’

‘FINLAY HART?!’ Justin mouths silently, with exaggerated enunciation, and I guilty-grin-blush.

My phone dings with a Justin text.

It’s what Susie would’ve wanted. x

I grin some more and humalong to David Bowie.

If our love song /

Could fly over mountains

41

The pater familial Volvo is reassuringly present in the drive as I walk up to the door of Susie’s former family home the following evening, clutching my tartan presentation tin of shortbread.

‘Hello!’ I say, eagerly but nervously, as Mr Hart answers. ‘Sorry for appearing unannounced again, I got you this up in Edinburgh.’

I proffer the shortbread.

‘Oh, that’s very thoughtful, Eve,’ he says, accepting it. ‘I best start watching my waistline! Would you like a cup of tea? I’ve put the kettle on.’

I say yes please and follow him indoors.

A quick glance around suggests everything is fine. The cleaner has left it immaculate.

He’s put the kettle on and I’ve taken a seat when the doorbell goes again.

‘Someone with you?’ Mr Hart says, getting up to answer it.

‘Oh, Finlay might be joining us,’ I say.

‘Yes, you’re right, it’s your young man,’ Mr Hart calls from the hallway.

‘Hi,’ Fin says, winding headphones round his phone as he walks into the room in running gear, pushing hair damp with sweat back from his glowing face.

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