Page 74 of Meet Me After Life

I take her in, in all her glory. The lime-green mini dress she’s wearing barely covers her thighs and hikes up another inch as she turns.

‘I think’ – I lean in conspiratorially – ‘one of us is getting laid tonight.’ I nod my head towards John – who is doing an abysmal job of concealing how his binoculars keep floating back to the general vicinity of Helen’s hemline.

‘Just one of us?’ She raises an eyebrow.

I gasp, hand on chest. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

It’s the truth. I didn’t tell anyone about Hot Face coming tonight, so Helen couldn’t know, unless…

‘I heard there’s a very handsome gentleman caller awaiting your arrival.’

I fidget with my lip to hide my smile.

She shoos me away and immediately starts rolling towards John with a sultry wink. ‘Don’t let me keep you, love.’ If anything, I would’ve thought I was keeping her. ‘Go find your date.’

So, I do. Or, at least, I try.

Except I’ve checked every damn corner of this bloody library and it’s become increasingly apparent that despite whatever Helen heard, my date is a no-show. An old ache resumes in my chest. I’m no stranger to abandon – in fact, in most cases it’s what I expect – but I’ve become too comfortable recently. I’ve started having these notions that people may actually keep me. And it doesn’t matter who abandons me – it’s the fact they did. It makes the old wound new, it cuts the stitches on the healing wound and makes me bleed all over again.

But tonight isn’t about me.

So, I’ll let myself indulge in a little sulk, but only a little. I stamp and drag my feet over to the refreshments table and crush a paper cup to air my frustration. When I turn, the anger drains. Slowly – but it does. I watch Aggy as she waves her hands animatedly. She’s talking with the local journalist, who, for their part, genuinely appears interested in what she has to say. Helen has pulled John into her lap and is dancing with him. The stone angels have come to show their support and, for once, look rather charmed by their patrons.

This was what I wanted. For my friends to feel seen and heard.

It was never about a date. I don’t know why I’m making it that way. No. It’s about them. I watch the residents of Greyfriars move around the room and mingle and talk. There’s such a sense of accomplishment among them all, even those who didn’t contribute seem proud just to be known by association. Regardless of whether he showed or not. Tonight was always set to be a success.

And maybe it was a little about me. Maybe it was about trying to do something even though I’m mortal and short-lived and destined to expire. It doesn’t mean I can’t make the most of life while I’m still here. It doesn’t mean I can’t make a difference.

Okay. I trash the cup and dust the sadness off me. It clings a little but I’m very persistent. I’m finished feeling sorry for myself.

I turn back to the refreshments and uncap my flask. Time to make this punch a little punchier. When I begin pouring, I try the counting method for shots, but I get distracted by the lemon cakes Helen’s made and lose count.

‘Much more and you’ll have them all drunk on a sip.’

I’m quite pleased with myself that I don’t falter. My breath does catch. Couldn’t be helped. It’s what he does to me. But my hand remains steady. It’s his voice that does me in. That and the excitement bubbling in my chest. I empty the flask, ladle myself a cup and take a sip. Fuck me.

‘Too strong?’

‘No such thing,’ I wheeze.

He’s in a suit. No big surprises there. He’s leant against the table with his arms crossed over his chest. I try to tamp down my nerves. Fucking Stars, even my legs feel shaky. I take up the space next to him. He leans closer. I feel cool pressure against my arm. A chill runs through me.

‘This is…’

‘I know it’s probably not up to your standards.’ I eye him over the rim of my glass.

‘On the contrary,’ he says, and I almost spit out my drink. As if I needed another reason. ‘It’s…’

‘Adequate?’ I offer.

He studies me from the corner of his eye. ‘It’s good.’

As you can expect, I’m sent reeling from the obscenity of Walker doling out such an extravagant compliment. He’s actually rendered me speechless. Void of speech, I am. I look around the room trying to find our next subject. Kindness is too far out of our scope of practised conversation for me to find comfort.

‘Are you going to give me the tour.’ It’s not a question. He’s already straightened himself and is fidgeting with fixing his suit jacket. Surely, he’s not nervous. No one can see him.

I sidle up beside him and watch as he readjusts his lapels. Twice.