anywhere but here.
Me: Not yet.
Richie: That’s the key, man, I’m telling you. That camera in Aldi will show them. They’ll see it’s not me.
Wish this was true. How high-res is this footage, though? How likely is it that it’ll be clear enough to counteract the witness identification?
We talk about the appeal case for almost the full hour. Just can’t get him off the topic. Forensics, overlooked evidence, always the CCTV. Hope, hope, hope.
Leave with shaking knees, take a cab to the station. Need sugar. Have some tiffin Tiffy made in bag; eat about three thousand calories of it as the train rolls through the countryside, flat field after flat field, taking me away from my brother and back to the place where everyone’s forgotten him.
*
Find bin-bag of scarves in centre of bedroom when I get home, with Tiffy’s note pasted on its side.
Mr Prior makes two-hundred-pound scarves? Doesn’t even take him very long! Ahhh. Think of all the times I turned down his offer of new scarf, hat, glove, or tea cosy. Could have been a billionaire by now.
*
On bedroom door:
Hi Tiffy,
THANK YOU for telling me about the scarves. Yes, need the money. Will sell – can you recommend where/how?
Gentleman at work knits them. He’s basically giving them away to anyone/everyone who will take them (or else I’d feel bad taking the money . . .)
Leon
*
Hey,
Oh, definitely – you should sell these through Etsy or Preloved. They’ll have tons of customers who would love these scarves.
Umm. Odd question, but might this gentleman at your work be interested in crocheting for commission?
Tiffy x
*
No idea what that means. Btw, take your fave scarf – will put rest on interweb tonight.
Leon
*
Fallen on floor by bedroom door (quite hard to track down):
Morning,
As in, I’m working on a book called Crochet Your Way (I know – it’s one of my best titles, I have to say) and we need someone to make us four scarves and eight hats very, very fast so we can photograph them to include in the book. He’d have to follow my author’s brief (on colour and stitch etc). I can pay him, but not a lot. Can you give me his contact details? I’m really desperate and he’s obviously crazily talented.
Oh my God, I’m going to be wearing this scarf all the time (I don’t care if it’s technically spring time). I love it. Thank you!
Tiffy x
*
Back to bedroom door again:
Eh. Can’t see why this wouldn’t work, though might need to run it by Matron. Write me a letter and will give it to her, then to gentleman knitter if she gives the OK.
If you’re wearing that scarf all the time, can you dispose of the five hundred scarves currently occupying your side of wardrobe?
Other news: first scarf just sold for £235! Mad. It’s not even nice!
Leon
On kitchen breakfast bar, beside unsealed envelope:
Hey,
My side is the key part of that sentence, Leon. My side, and I want to fill it with scarves.
The letter is here – let me know if you think it needs changing at all. At some point we may need to do a bit of a tidy of our notes to one another, by the way. The flat is starting to look like a scene from A Beautiful Mind.
Tiffy x
*
I pass Tiffy’s letter to Matron, who gives me the all-clear to offer Mr Prior the opportunity to knit for Tiffy’s book. Or crochet. Am extremely unclear on the difference. No doubt Tiffy will write me a long note at some point with detailed explanation, unprompted. She loves a lengthy explanation. Why use one clause when you could use five? Strange, ridiculous, hilarious woman.
One night later and Mr Prior’s got two hats done already – they look hat-like and woolly, so I’m assuming all is as it should be.
Only downside to this arrangement is now Mr Prior is fascinated with Tiffy.
Mr Prior: So she’s a book editor.
Me: Yes.
Mr Prior: What an interesting profession.
A pause.
Mr Prior: And she lives with you?
Me: Mm.
Mr Prior: How interesting.
Look at him sideways while writing his notes. He blinks back at me, beady-eyed and innocent.
Mr Prior: I just didn’t imagine you’d like living with another person. You like your independence so much. Isn’t that why you didn’t want to move in with Kay?
Must stop talking to patients about personal life.
Me: It’s different. I don’t have to see Tiffy. We just leave each other notes, really.
Mr Prior nods thoughtfully.
Mr Prior: The art of letter writing. A profoundly . . . intimate thing, a letter, isn’t