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Authors: Penny Hancock
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place.’
I pushed the thought of the man in the hospital out of my mind; the incident was done with, he was alive. He would be OK. He would probably forget he’d ever seen me. It was over.
‘Ellie! Oi, Ellie! Wakey-wakey. I think you are.’
‘I am what?’
‘Missing him. Finn. I was going to say something on Friday night. You seemed distracted.’
‘I was nervous. About the exhibition.’
‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? You can still move on in your career and stay with him too!’
‘I just have to try this,’ I said. ‘I just have to see.’
‘OK.’
‘ Look, Chiara, it wasn’t Finn I was thinking about on Friday. I’ve sorted it now, and it probably sounds bonkers. It was just that – you remember on the way down Louise
was delayed, and you and Liam had to go on a diversion? There was an accident on the B road into Southwold?’
‘Yes. A hit-and-run. It was on the news.’
‘I thought it was me.’
‘What?’
‘When I heard the news, I became convinced I might have been the hit-and-runner . . . it haunted me all that night. I had to make sure it wasn’t me. I know now it
wasn’t.’
Chiara laughed.
‘You
thought
it was you?! You are bonkers, Ellie. You would have
known
if you’d run a man over – it was a man, wasn’t it? Fully grown?’
‘But I bashed into something on the road. It smashed my wing mirror, look, see?’ I gestured over to my left, where the mirror was smashed, one piece of the glass missing.
‘Oh, I see. Yeah. But still, I’ve hit a baby deer, in Scotland, much smaller than a man, and believe me you damn well know if you’ve hit something that size,’ Chiara
said, ‘the impact’s terrifying. I had whiplash after that and it was just a little thing. You’re a nutcase, that’s all there is to it. It’s just like the time you made
me go all the way back to the flat with you because you were convinced you’d left the gas on and might be poisoning poor old Frank and all the other neighbours!’
She chuckled.
I didn’t want to mention that I’d actually gone so far as checking by visiting the hospital. It would sound completely mad. Over-the-top – obsessive.
We’d turned off down the Mile End Road now and were crawling past the fried chicken shops and the Asian food stalls and the mosques. The air coming in was warm and fuggy
with smells of the city, exhaust and oil and a fainter sweeter smell of good spicy food. Police cars sped past us. The man who arranged all his fruit in plastic ice-cream tubs on the pavement,
exposing them to a constant smothering of exhaust, sat outside his shop on a fold-out chair. We passed women in wildly patterned headscarves pushing buggies, caught glimpses of men in djellabas and
leather jackets inside cafés, chatting in groups. Another world to the middle-class enclave that was Southwold.
‘Look,’ Chiara said, and I glanced at her. Her tone had changed. ‘While we’re on the subject of moving on and all that, I have to tell you . . . I’ve been putting
it off, but . . . oh dear, this is hard.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, it’s just that Liam’s found somewhere in London Fields. It’s a flat, but there’s a garden. He’s put a deposit down.’
‘Oh.’ Was her suggestion I go back to Finn a way of softening this blow?
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘So, you’ll be moving out?’
‘But you’re going to be OK, Ellie. If you carry on like this you’ll be leaving your teaching job, you’ll probably move down to Southwold, won’t you? Become a
full-time artist.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. I knew Chiara and Liam were looking to buy a house, it was to be expected now they were having a baby, but
I’d imagined it might take months. I’d imagined I would have moved on long before they had. The thought of being left alone in our little flat without Finn, without my best friend,
unnerved me.
‘Ellie? Things had to change some time
I pushed the thought of the man in the hospital out of my mind; the incident was done with, he was alive. He would be OK. He would probably forget he’d ever seen me. It was over.
‘Ellie! Oi, Ellie! Wakey-wakey. I think you are.’
‘I am what?’
‘Missing him. Finn. I was going to say something on Friday night. You seemed distracted.’
‘I was nervous. About the exhibition.’
‘Are you sure you’re doing the right thing? You can still move on in your career and stay with him too!’
‘I just have to try this,’ I said. ‘I just have to see.’
‘OK.’
‘ Look, Chiara, it wasn’t Finn I was thinking about on Friday. I’ve sorted it now, and it probably sounds bonkers. It was just that – you remember on the way down Louise
was delayed, and you and Liam had to go on a diversion? There was an accident on the B road into Southwold?’
‘Yes. A hit-and-run. It was on the news.’
‘I thought it was me.’
‘What?’
‘When I heard the news, I became convinced I might have been the hit-and-runner . . . it haunted me all that night. I had to make sure it wasn’t me. I know now it
wasn’t.’
Chiara laughed.
‘You
thought
it was you?! You are bonkers, Ellie. You would have
known
if you’d run a man over – it was a man, wasn’t it? Fully grown?’
‘But I bashed into something on the road. It smashed my wing mirror, look, see?’ I gestured over to my left, where the mirror was smashed, one piece of the glass missing.
‘Oh, I see. Yeah. But still, I’ve hit a baby deer, in Scotland, much smaller than a man, and believe me you damn well know if you’ve hit something that size,’ Chiara
said, ‘the impact’s terrifying. I had whiplash after that and it was just a little thing. You’re a nutcase, that’s all there is to it. It’s just like the time you made
me go all the way back to the flat with you because you were convinced you’d left the gas on and might be poisoning poor old Frank and all the other neighbours!’
She chuckled.
I didn’t want to mention that I’d actually gone so far as checking by visiting the hospital. It would sound completely mad. Over-the-top – obsessive.
We’d turned off down the Mile End Road now and were crawling past the fried chicken shops and the Asian food stalls and the mosques. The air coming in was warm and fuggy
with smells of the city, exhaust and oil and a fainter sweeter smell of good spicy food. Police cars sped past us. The man who arranged all his fruit in plastic ice-cream tubs on the pavement,
exposing them to a constant smothering of exhaust, sat outside his shop on a fold-out chair. We passed women in wildly patterned headscarves pushing buggies, caught glimpses of men in djellabas and
leather jackets inside cafés, chatting in groups. Another world to the middle-class enclave that was Southwold.
‘Look,’ Chiara said, and I glanced at her. Her tone had changed. ‘While we’re on the subject of moving on and all that, I have to tell you . . . I’ve been putting
it off, but . . . oh dear, this is hard.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, it’s just that Liam’s found somewhere in London Fields. It’s a flat, but there’s a garden. He’s put a deposit down.’
‘Oh.’ Was her suggestion I go back to Finn a way of softening this blow?
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘So, you’ll be moving out?’
‘But you’re going to be OK, Ellie. If you carry on like this you’ll be leaving your teaching job, you’ll probably move down to Southwold, won’t you? Become a
full-time artist.’
‘I don’t know about that.’ I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. I knew Chiara and Liam were looking to buy a house, it was to be expected now they were having a baby, but
I’d imagined it might take months. I’d imagined I would have moved on long before they had. The thought of being left alone in our little flat without Finn, without my best friend,
unnerved me.
‘Ellie? Things had to change some time
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