Page 21 of The Spark

I go over to it. Take a breath.

Nighthawks. Edward Hopper.

‘Coffee?’ Ash asks, as I’m staring at the painting and trying to right my breathing.

‘Please.’

While he’s making it, I turn away from the Hopper and walk over to his bookcase. I can’t help myself. I need to check if they’re there. The shelving itself is laminate – an actual crime, in an apartment like this – but I can’t pay attention to that now. There’s only one thing I’m looking for.

The collection is sparse – probably no more than ten or fifteen books in total, which makes it easy to spot them. A Place of My Own: The Architecture of Daydreams. Analysing Architecture. Art and Illusion. All arranged together, in order of height.

‘Sorry,’ Ash says, from the kitchen area. ‘It’s not the sexiest book collection you’ll ever see.’

For so long, my only wish in the world has been to have just one more conversation with Jamie. To tell him how much I still love him. To show him everything that’s changed since I last saw him. To hold him and kiss him again, tell him I would have waited ten more lifetimes for another chance to see him smile.

The coffee’s ready. Mind spinning, I perch on a stool at the enormous hulk of a kitchen island, which is about the size of a ten-seater dining table. I can see the river from here, framed by the windows like a polyptych artwork.

Jamie would have loved this place.

‘So, what’s the verdict?’ Ash passes me a coffee in a satin-black mug.

‘He’d have loved it.’

‘Sorry?’

A kick of panic in my chest. I stare at him for a couple of moments.

Ash smiles, like he thinks there’s a joke he’s not getting. ‘Who would have loved it?’

A beat passes. ‘No-one. Sorry. Misheard you.’

He appears to shake it off, then tries again. ‘Verdict on the décor?’

My eyes alight on a copy of the River Cafe Cook Book. I blink back memories of Jamie’s copy, sauce-splattered and dog-eared, back at Edinburgh Road.

Come on, Neve. Pull yourself together.

‘Well, that depends,’ I say, sipping my coffee, which is just how I like it, strong and smooth. ‘How much are you looking to spend?’

He grimaces. ‘Not a fortune, sadly. I spent enough buying it in the first place.’

How are we ever going to afford something like that?

Mortgage ourselves up to the eyeballs and die broke and in debt, obviously.

But we’ll be happy.

Ash misinterprets my expression. ‘I inherited some money from my grandmother. Could never have afforded it otherwise. As it is, I’m mortgaged up to the eyeballs.’

I open my mouth to tell him I wasn’t making assumptions about his finances, but he’s already moved on.

‘It all depends on what you’d suggest.’

‘Well, we’re definitely not talking about spending a fortune. First, I’d say you need to energise the space with some colour.’ I get up with my coffee and cross the room towards the sofa – a blank block of charcoal grey, no cushions, no pattern. ‘But you don’t want to overcrowd it, or complicate it. You just need a few well-judged additions.’

‘Such as?’

‘Well, most people would be tempted to buy everything vintage, but you need to work some modern pieces in too or it will end up looking... too theme-y.’

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