Page 101 of Meet Me in Berlin

Istir sugar into a mug of tea and pass it to Nat.

‘I was going to do that,’ she says, taking it from me.

‘I can make a cup of tea.’ My tone is sharp, my voice unrecognisable, and I immediately let out a remorseful sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help.’

Nat gives me a sad smile. ‘It’s fine.’ She gazes out at Adam and Meg’s backyard, where a small gathering of people dressed in black dot the lawn. ‘It was a nice service.’

‘It was,’ I say. The funeral was a small affair in a chapel near Adam and Meg’s place with relatives and some close family friends. Mum’s truly gone and there’s nothing left of my heart. It’s shattered, an empty shell, a hole in my chest. I’m a thirty-one-year-old orphan, with only Adam and his family here and no relationship of my own. There is something so terribly sad about that, it almost floors me.

That fated day at the hospital, after Dr Wren explained that Mum had had a heart attack and the hospital staff had given us the obligatory support resources, we drove back to Adam’s in separate cars. He took himself to bed, and I curled up in the spare room, with Meg tending to us both late into the night. The days that followed were dark and painful, Adam and I flitting between dealing with our own grief and holding the other up. I raged with the unfairness of it, while he stayed grateful Mum didn’t have to cope with deteriorating further. At least arranging the funeral gave us something to focus on and a chance to spend time together to celebrate the memory of our parents.

Casey messaged me the day after Mum passed, unaware of what had happened. I sent a short reply to tell her – I couldn’t cope with continuous messages asking how Mum was. My FaceTime lit up immediately, but I declined it; seeing Casey’s face would’ve ended me. I sent another message a few days later to explain I couldn’t talk and that we’d set a date for the funeral.

Nat rubs my back, reminding me I’m not alone. ‘I’m just going to check on Archie.’ She leans closer. ‘Tom’s on his way over.’

She disappears inside as Tom approaches me. Other than a few messages to tell him about Mum and a quick nod across the chapel, we haven’t spoken.

Tom gives me a tentative smile and slips his hands into his suit pockets. ‘Good to see you, Hols. I’m really sorry about your mum.’

I nod. ‘Thank you. How are you?’

He shrugs. ‘Okay.’

The late afternoon breeze has turned cool, and I rub my bare arms. ‘How’s Jack?’

‘Oh, he’s pretty good. Getting used to spending time with me.’ His eyes scan my face. ‘You look really well.’

I’ve hardly slept for two weeks, so I know that’s not true, but he’s never been comfortable in these situations and he’ll be struggling to make conversation. I glance down at my shoes, sensible black flats that I once joked would only be good for a funeral.

‘Did you have a nice holiday?’ he asks.

I almost scoff at that. ‘Nice’ doesn’t even come close. Incredible. Mind-blowing. Life-changing. Heart-breaking. But it feels so long ago now. ‘I did.’

‘I saw some of your photos on Instagram. Berlin looks like a beautiful city.’

My head snaps up. Since when is Tom on Instagram? My mind goes to the photos of Casey and me that I posted after she returned to London. Our Sappho and Erinna photo, she’d called it, and I feel my cheeks colour. ‘It is a beautiful city. It was good to go back.’

‘Looked like you met some friends while you were there?’ he says, his tone curious.

I nod. ‘An old friend from when I was there for uni.’

His eyes narrow slightly before he says, ‘Didn’t realise you had friends there.’

I give a half shrug.

His smile is tight. ‘I’m glad you didn’t spend the whole time alone. I was worried about you.’

‘I’m a big girl, Tom.’

He gives a curt nod. ‘So, you’re home to stay now?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Maybe we could catch up? Have dinner or something?’

‘I … erm…’

‘Just as friends.’

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