Chapter 10
Dair and I don’t reconnect until the end of the week. Isn’t that a fucker?
We’re ships that don’t even pass in the night. By the time I’m done with work for the day, he’s already at a care home, chipping away at what I’ve guessed must be one hell of a legal bill still hanging over his head, given how many extra shifts he takes on.
At least it means he gets to do what gives him comfort, like the very first time I paid him a visit and got a great big dose of caring.
I hear the same care in messages that arrive each night while I sleep.
They become my favourite way to start each morning, even better than Harry’s frequent check-ins, because Dair doesn’t text me.
He sends rambling voice notes, and if I close my eyes and hold my phone close, it’s almost like we’re in bed together.
This extended version of verbal snuggling is so much better than any hookup.
I don’t mean because we sext each other and swap dick pics.
Dair uses his work breaks to share good news from one of those businesses I found online with some help from Siri.
They’ll take his furniture as long as he can deliver.
I’ll transport those chairs and tables for him, and I don’t care what Kev thinks about me working for nothing. I’ll pay for the fuel myself to carry that load for free.
Dair also uses his work breaks to tell me about his slow progress with the rest of his sorting. And about the residents he takes care of while the city is sleeping. They remind him so much of Alice. Sometimes those reminders roughen his soft whispers.
My voice does the same. I hear it each time I fill silences in his voice notes.
“Get it all off your chest, mate. You go ahead and feel all your fucking feelings.”
That’s an echo of Harry.
The last time I saw him, I couldn’t make myself do any of the opening up he said would make me feel so much better.
Me wanting the same relief for Dair means the very first thing I do on my next day off is dial Harry’s number, even though he’s in a whole other country, selling speedboats to high-powered people.
Harry picks up so quickly he might as well turn to face me from the next pillow.
“Darling. Is everything okay?”
Like Dair does in his nightly voice notes, Harry sounds so close and familiar, if a touch worried about me taking the initiative and calling him for a first time.
My phone is full of regular contact from him, chock-a-block with photos of boats, crab-related memes, and reminders that I can talk to him anytime, all because he’s…
A good friend.
Maybe a better one than I deserve, considering the very next thing Harry asks is, “You heard from Flynn?” as if I need defending.
“Nope.” Blocking that dickhead was my best decision. He knows where he can leave a message. “I just...” I stare up at the ceiling, feeling about as naked as the bulb hanging above me all over again, but this needs saying. “I just wanted to say thanks, mate.”
I can’t see Harry’s smile. I definitely hear it. “Thanks for what?”
“For checking in. You don’t have to keep messaging me.”
“Of course I don’t have to.” He must be at work already. Gulls cry in the background, and yeah, emotions have to be contagious—I could join in with those gulls when Harry adds, “I want to.”
I should be used to getting slammed in the chest. It’s happened so often lately, no wonder I sound fractured. “I’m just saying, I’ve figured out why I got all weird about Flynn taking everything with no warning. It was—”
“So he has been in touch?” Right away, Harry apologises for interrupting. “Sorry, sorry. I mean, if you’re finally ready to talk about what happened with him, let me switch to video.” Someone shouts his name in the background. “Dammit.”
“Nothing happened between us. And you’re busy. This can wait.”
“No, no. Give me a minute. I’ll video-call you straight back. Let’s have this convo face-to-face. I’ve been wanting to.”
I don’t need to see Harry’s face on my phone screen. I can already guess I’ll only see more of what he left London wearing. I’m done with being a reason for him to worry. “No need, honest. Plus, I haven’t got time. I’m meeting—”
The word client never fit Dair. Nor does friend.
The realist in me knows that boyfriend can’t be an option, and not because I’m strictly a fan of no-strings nookie.
That old train has left the station. What I can’t deny is that the end of the month will rush up and where Dair will head then isn’t exactly on any Tube line.
I’ve done my research. Had myself a good long chat with Siri about the Isle of Harris, so I know it’s nothing like the isle I come from.
It’s remote, not a built-up city borough with great transport links.
And it’s a ways off Britain’s mainland, in the Outer Hebrides.
That makes it even harder to get to. Depending on the timing of trains, buses, and ferry crossings, getting there and back could involve days of travel for someone on my kind of budget, because who’s got thousands to drop on flights?
Not me.
I settle for telling Harry, “I’m meeting someone, but listen, yeah?
All I wanted to say was that Flynn was never my real problem.
” This would have been impossible to grit out before Dair held me fifteen floors above the river where someone I loved and lost once taught me how to mudlark.
It’s surprisingly easy today to say, “Think I got everything twisted because of Stacey.”
“Your aunt?” Harry’s sigh carries all the way from wherever he is in Europe. “I did wonder.” He speaks more quietly, his voice as soft as the shush of water in the background. “Even so, I can’t help thinking I could have—”
“Stopped me from moving in here right after I lost her?” I shake my head firmly even though Harry can’t see me do it.
“You weren’t even in the UK, mate. It was my way to avoid it.
Staying here let me keep my distance from home.
” I swallow around some more grit. “And it’s one of the reasons I kept my distance from all you nosy wankers. ”
“One of the reasons? There are more?” Someone calls his name again. “Two minutes, Skipper,” he calls back.
“Go.” I check my watch. “I need to make a move too.” Today is a rare full day off for Dair. The last one between his care shifts before he’ll leave. I want to make the most of every minute. “I need you to know that I’m getting my shit together. Keeping myself busy in a better way, like you said.”
“Excellent. How?”
“By going to the V&A.”
“The museum?”
“Yeah.” Visiting some of the ceramics collections there seemed a good way to help Dair beef up his inventory descriptions.
Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s an excuse to have him look up at me some more like I’m some kind of expert.
“And you’re taking the Exes with you? Opening up to them about what matters to you? Good man.”
I hadn’t planned to invite anyone along but Dair. Harry sounding impressed makes me kinda wish I had extended that group invite.
He huffs, “Just tell me that Blake and Adey are back to speaking.”
I can’t.
Yes, I did get them in the same place at the same time with Dair’s help. Ordering a coffee wasn’t enough to keep them talking for long. “I’m still working on it.”
“Good man,” Harry repeats over the hollow thump of footsteps. His, I think, striding along a jetty. “Remind the two of them that they were friends once. But maybe go easy on Adey. The last time I saw him, he looked lost. And closed off, you know?”
Those two terms could have described me until lately, which he mentions.
“Open up to him the way you just did to me, and he’ll find his way back to us.” He hesitates, a pause drawing out before he adds, “And if there’s anything else you want to get off your chest, you go ahead and call me again. Anytime, darling. This was a nice surprise.”
Harry isn’t done.
He’s got enough ink left to rewrite all the times stand-in teachers said I should just try harder.
“You stood in for me when you didn’t have to. Got Blake and Adey together once already, and I’ve only been gone for a few weeks. I still have another whole month of boat shows to go, but you’ve made this work trip so much easier. I couldn’t have left my pen with anyone better.”
His conviction is still on my mind long after our call. And long after I’ve sweated over how to phrase an invitation in the group chat to a last-minute meet-up.
Blake says yes right away. So do almost a dozen others. Avatars of their faces stack up along with thumbs-up emojis.
I don’t see Adey’s face among them.
Fuck. What would Harry do now?
The chime of my doorbell saves me from sweating some more over that problem. I open the front door to another bright February morning, and to an even brighter smile from my favourite furniture fairy.
I’m dazzled.
I must be to state the obvious like this.
“That’s an armchair.”
Dair beams even brighter. “Oh, you are good at this game. Have another go!” He points at what else he’s arrived here with.
It’s a footstool. One I’d think he’d stolen from a care home if I hadn’t seen it in situ a few streets from here.
“Bet you can’t guess what it is.” He smiles so hard that he dimples. “If you guess right, you can keep it!”
The only thing I’m willing to bet is that this furniture belonged to someone he used to care for. Him gifting it to me leaves me all kinds of growly. “I’ve got an even better game we can play together.”
Don’t ask me how the fuck his broad smile widens. Mine does too when he asks, “Does it involve getting horizontal with firemen watching?”
It almost kills me to say, “It could do later,” but those pings on my phone mean a whole lot of Exes are already on their way to meet us at the museum location.
I also can’t ignore what Dair has arrived wearing.
I reach out to touch the heart-shaped logo on his fleece jacket.
“I was actually planning on playing a game of Snap with you this morning if you aren’t working. ”
His brow creases. “Snap?”