Words in Deep Blue(56)

George talks about how much she likes Cal, about how he’s smart and weird and sweet, and all the while I’m trying to get my head around what she’s telling me. ‘He’s been away from the city for three years,’ I say. ‘How would he get the letters in the book?’

‘Tim Hooper,’ she says. ‘Tim brought Cal’s letters in, and took my letters away.’

‘And it’s not actually Tim Hooper?’ I ask.

‘Tim moved to another state. And coincidentally, the letters stopped when he left.’

‘Which doesn’t disprove that it’s Tim.’

‘Henry, it’s him,’ she says forcefully. ‘It’s Cal.’

‘But he doesn’t write to you anymore,’ I say, careful not to give anything away.

‘Because he’s in France with his dad and without Tim, it’s all too hard. I want you to ask Rachel for his overseas address. I need to send him this letter.’ She holds out a sealed envelope. ‘If, for some reason, she doesn’t want to give me the address, she could mail it herself.’

I take the sealed envelope and put it in my pocket. It feels strangely heavy for a thin piece of paper. ‘Can I ask what it says?’

And without hesitating, she tells me. ‘It says I love him.’

Oh fuck. I could cry. I could actually cry, right now. She’s too late. He’ll never read it. It’s such a huge letter for George to write. George doesn’t make a joke and say nothing will happen because it’s a truth universally acknowledged that we’re all shit at love. She’s taking the first real chance of her life and the really awful thing is that she and Cal would be perfect for each other. Maybe even more perfect for her than Martin.




It’d be fair to say I feel slightly unhinged as we walk back inside. George is in love with a dead person and I can’t do anything about it.

‘What’s wrong?’ Rachel asks, and I want to tell her because Rachel makes things better. Even if she can’t do anything about them, she makes things better by being with me. But I can’t say the words. They’re too sad. Your brother loved a girl, and she loves him back, but he died before she told him. End of story.

‘Everything’s fine. George is feeling a bit confused about Martin. Can you stay here for a minute? I just need some fresh air.’

I walk out the front of the shop and Mum calls me while I’m taking some breaths. ‘You sound strange,’ she says when I answer. I can’t tell her about George, so I tell her about Dad. About how I feel like I’ve crushed him by voting to sell the shop. ‘He’s gone somewhere and it feels like I made him leave.’

‘I’m worried about your dad, too,’ she says. ‘But he’d be the first to tell you he’s not your responsibility. You made the right decision, Henry. I can’t talk more now, but I promise I’ll call you back, and I promise that this will all be fine.’

I hang up, and almost call her straight back to ask if we can slow things down with the sale, but then I turn around and see Amy.

She’s dressed in green, shoulders showing, pearls in the streetlight. It’s the dress she was wearing when she said she loved me for the first time, and seeing her in it transports me straight back to the moment.

I try not to look happy to see her, because we haven’t spoken since the night I was gaffer-taped to a pole. But I am happy to see her. I can’t help it, I’m really happy to see her.

‘I’m sorry about Greg,’ she says.

I’m about to say, ‘Don’t worry, it’s fine.’ But actually it’s not fine and we need to talk about this. ‘It’s been two weeks since you saw your boyfriend throw me in the car. You didn’t think to call before now?’

‘I wanted to,’ she says. ‘But Greg and I were breaking up.’

As soon as she says it, I forget I’m angry. She’s breaking up with The Dickhead. She looks through the bookshop window, and then motions for me to follow her down the street. I stay where I am for all of five seconds and then, as if I’m under some sort of spell, I follow.

‘I can’t do this anymore, Amy,’ I say. ‘You can’t push me around like this. I can’t keep waiting for you to come back to me.’

‘I won’t leave again,’ she says. ‘I’m sure this time.’

She sounds so sure.

‘You’re still selling?’ she asks, watching the people arrive for book club.

‘I’m pretty sure we’re finalising the deal any day.’

‘And you still have the ticket?’

‘Yes,’ I say.

People say hello on the way past and I say hello to them, all the while trying to look normal, when really I’m feeling anything but. The last few people walk inside, leaving us on the street alone again. The book club is starting and I should go back inside.

‘Kiss me,’ she says, and I do. I kiss her with renewed confidence, the confidence of a guy who’s found out that he is, in fact, a great kisser.

The kissing goes on for a long time. When we stop, we don’t have a lot to say, so we kiss some more. Time passes but I don’t feel it. Amy is back. The Dickhead is gone.

She leaves, and I head back inside, slightly dazed, but happy, until I see Rachel, and then I’m dazed and unsettled.