in a big ugly soup of misery. The only thing I can think of with any certainty is that I wish I had never met Justin.
My phone buzzes.
Leon calling.
I’ve waited all night to see those words. My stomach drops. Has he spoken to Richie?
‘Hello?’
‘Hey.’ His voice sounds ragged and strangely unfamiliar. It’s like the energy has gone out of him.
I wait for him to say something else, staring out at the traffic sliding by below, letting the headlights draw yellow-white streaks on the insides of my eyes.
‘I am holding an enormous bunch of flowers,’ he says.
I don’t say anything.
‘I felt like I needed a physical symbol of the enormity of my apology,’ Leon goes on. ‘But I’ve realised Justin also left you an enormous bunch of flowers – actually, much nicer, more expensive flowers – so now I’m thinking, flowers, not so good. Then I thought, I’d just come home and tell you in person. But then I realised once I got here that I left my key to the flat at Mam’s place because I’m supposed to be staying there tonight. So I’d have to knock on the door, which I thought would probably scare you, since you have an unhinged ex-boyfriend to contend with.’
I watch car after car drive by. That might be the longest I’ve ever heard Leon speak in one go.
‘So where are you now?’ I ask eventually.
‘Look up. Opposite pavement, by the bakery.’
I see him now. He’s silhouetted against the bright yellow light of the bakery’s sign, the phone to his ear, his other arm cradling a bouquet of flowers. He’s wearing a suit – of course, he won’t have changed since court.
‘I’m guessing you’re feeling very hurt,’ he says. His voice is gentle, and it makes me melt.
I’m crying again.
‘I am so sorry, Tiffy. I should never have assumed. You needed me today, and I wasn’t there for you.’
‘I did need you,’ I sob. ‘Mo and Gerty and Rachel are all great and I love them and they have helped so much, but I wanted you. You made me feel like it didn’t matter that Justin happened. That you cared about me anyway.’
‘I do. And it doesn’t.’ He’s crossing the road now, coming over to this side of the pavement. I can make out his face, the smooth, sharp lines of his cheekbones, the soft curve of his lips. He’s looking up at me. ‘Everyone kept telling me I was going to lose you if I didn’t tell you how I feel, and then in comes Justin, king of the romantic gesture . . .’
‘Romantic?’ I splutter. ‘Romantic? And I don’t bloody want romantic gestures anyway! Why would I want that? I’ve had that, and it was shit!’
‘I know,’ Leon says. ‘You’re right. I should have known.’
‘And I liked that you weren’t pushing things – the idea of committing to a serious relationship scares the hell out of me! I mean, look at how hard it was to get out of the last one!’
‘Oh,’ says Leon. ‘Yes. That’s . . . yes, I see.’ He mutters something that sounds like it might be bloody Richie.
‘I can hear you without the phone now, you know,’ I say, raising my voice enough for it to carry over the traffic noise. ‘Plus I’m quite enjoying the excuse to shout.’
He hangs up and backs away a little. ‘Let’s shout, then!’ he calls.
I narrow my eyes, and then I pull off all my blankets, put down my wine and munchies, and move to the railings.
‘Whoa,’ Leon says, voice dropping so I can only just catch the words. ‘You look incredible.’
I look down at myself, a little surprised to find I’m still wearing the off-the-shoulder dress from the party. God knows what my hair looks like, and my make-up is definitely at least two inches further down my face than it was this morning, but the dress is pretty spectacular.
‘Don’t be nice!’ I shout. ‘I want to be angry with you!’
‘Yes! Right! Shouting,’ Leon calls, tightening his tie and rebuttoning his collar as though he’s preparing himself.
‘I am never going back to Justin!’ I shout, and then, because of how good it feels, I try it again. ‘I am never fucking going back to Justin!’
A car alarm goes off somewhere nearby, which I know is coincidental, but still feels pretty good – now all I need is a cat to yowl and a bunch of dustbins to fall over. I take a deep breath and open my mouth to keep