‘My stepson,’ Arnold announces, ‘here to rain on your May Day parade. The lady was feeling cheerful, Jackson! Don’t ruin her good mood.’

Jackson coughs. ‘Sorry.’ He leans to put his empty cup down and staggers slightly as he straightens back up.

‘Are you drunk?’ I ask. ‘Ooh, this is fun. What’s drunk Jackson like?’

‘Actually,’ Jackson says, pulling loose flowers from his wreath, ‘drunk Jackson tends to overshare.’

Arnold makes his excuses, waving vaguely at the treeline. Jackson and I move towards one of the makeshift benches set up beside the bonfire. It’s dark; his face is starkly masculine in the firelight, shadows collecting beneath his browbone, below his jaw. As my heart starts to thunder, I know I shouldn’t be sitting down with him alone – I’m thinking about this man too much, I’m too aware of him.

‘Samantha loves you,’ he says, pulling off his wreath and setting it down beside him. ‘Though she definitely still thinks you’re the Easter bunny. She explained to me that you’re off duty until next year now.’

I relax a little – if we’re talking about his kid, it doesn’t feel so dangerous. ‘That outfit. She’s such a great kid.’

He looks sidelong at me. ‘You know she got icing in your hair when you let her sit on your shoulders?’

I lift a hand to my hair and groan. ‘God, that’s going to be a nightmare to get out,’ I say, picking at it. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

‘I think everyone’s too tipsy to notice. Except me.’

‘Except you?’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘I thought you were at oversharing levels of drunk.’

‘I am.’ He turns to face me, his eyes bright and intense in the firelight. ‘I just tend to notice you more than average.’

I go still. My heartbeat’s in my ears now, in my throat, everywhere.

‘Leena …’

‘I should get back to—’

His hand covers mine on the bench between us. A flush of hot-cold energy goes through me as he touches me, like the moment when someone pulls you in for a deep kiss, but all he’s done is place his fingers over mine.

‘I think you’re amazing, Leena Cotton. You are kind, and beautiful, and absolutely unstoppable, and God, that thing that you do, running your hand through your hair like that, it …’ He rubs his mouth with his spare hand, jaw clenching and unclenching.

I lower my arm – I hadn’t realised I’d even reached to touch my hair.

‘I think you should know,’ he says. ‘I like you. Like I shouldn’t. That sort of like.’

My breath is coming fast and shaky. I want to reach for him. I want to lace my fingers through his and pull myself towards him and kiss him hard on the mouth in the firelight, and he’s so close, closer than he should be, so close I can see the pale freckles under his eyes, the dusting of stubble across his jaw—

‘I’ve not known what to do,’ he says, his voice so quiet it’s almost a whisper. His lips are inches from mine. ‘For weeks I’ve thought about it. I don’t want to break up a relationship, that’s wrong. But I also don’t want you to leave without knowing.’

My brain kicks in the moment he mentions Ethan. I pull my hand away and back up, swallowing hard. My body’s slower – I’m hot with wanting.

‘I shouldn’t – I’m sorry, Jackson, I should have stopped you the moment you started speaking. I don’t see you that way. I have a boyfriend. You know that.’ It comes out wobblier than I’d like; I try to sound firm and decisive, but my mind is foggy with tropical cocktails and my pulse is still pounding.

‘And he makes you happy?’ Jackson asks. He winces slightly as he says it. ‘I’m sorry. I’m only going to ask you that once.’

I take a deep breath. It’s Ethan we’re talking about. Of course I know the answer to this question.

‘Yes. He does.’

Jackson looks down at his feet. ‘Well. Good. I’m glad. I’m glad he makes you happy.’

He seems to mean it, which makes my heart hurt.

‘I’ll be gone next week,’ I say, swallowing. ‘You’ll … forget all about me. Life will go back to normal.’

We both look towards the fire, its flames torn by the breeze.

‘I might just say goodbye now,’ Jackson says.

I’m having a little gathering tomorrow in the village hall with the Neighbourhood Watch crew, maybe even Nicola and Betsy if they feel up to it. But I guess no Jackson.

‘That’s fine,’ I say. ‘Of course. I should …’ I stand. One side of my body’s hot from the bonfire, the other’s cool from the breeze.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jackson says, standing too. ‘I should have … Obviously, now, I can see I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘No,’ I say. ‘I get it.’

It’s better he said it. Now it’s clear where the line is.

‘Well. Goodbye,’ he says.

I hesitate, and then,

‘Come here,’ I say, and pull him in for a hug. He closes his arms around me, my cheek against his chest, his hand almost spanning the width of my waist. He smells of open fires and wildflowers, the scent of his wreath still caught in the soft fabric of his shirt. I pull away as my pulse begins to pound again.

‘Live a good life, Leena Cotton,’ he says, in the moment we step apart. ‘And … make sure it’s the right one.’

30

Eileen

I leave Tod in bed with the sheets ruffled, his arm thrown wide as if reaching for me again. I like the idea of this as my last memory of him, and his last memory of me as the way I was last night: giddy, a little silly, and wearing perfect make-up because Martha did it for me.

My bags are all packed and waiting in Rupert and Aurora’s hallway downstairs. Fitz carried them down for me before he left for work. I gave Aurora and Rupert a cactus as their goodbye present; Aurora was ecstatic. Really, that woman thinks anything shaped even vaguely like a penis is a work of art.

They’ve promised to keep the Silver Shoreditchers’ Social Club going and to send me photos of each month’s event. It’s Fitz who’s most excited about it, though: he has grand plans to expand the club already. It’s been a joy, seeing him throwing his heart into it all – he reminds me a little of myself at that age. Though I had a good sight more common sense. The man just can’t seem to learn how to look after himself – anything domestic goes in one ear and comes out the other. I’ve done what I can, though, while I’ve been here, and he’s coming along. The other day I saw him pairing his socks after doing a wash.

I hail down a black cab to take me to the Selmount offices for my goodbye coffee with Bee. As we crawl through the streets, I remember how frightening this place felt when I first arrived. Now it’s a second home. I’ll miss the man in the market who gives me a discount on crêpes because he’s from Yorkshire, too, and the Big Issue seller with the Alsatian who wears a pink bow.

We pull up outside the Selmount offices; it takes me a while to get out of the car, and I’m just getting my legs around to climb out of the door when I look up and freeze.