Her smile grows slowly, and as she squeezes my hands and beams at me I feel as though I’m better, as if I’ve been in pain and it’s lifted at last.
‘You’re serious?’
‘I’m serious.’
‘You’re going to do the Masters?’
‘I’ve decided to do it part-time, and work. Maybe bar work, I was thinking, or tutoring.’
Her smile gets even broader. ‘Really? You’re going to work?’
I feel a twinge of something like shame. ‘Yeah, of course – no more dicking around on my eternal gap yah.’
She laughs. ‘Dylan . . . are you sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
She hugs me tight and I spin her around.
‘Is this what you wanted?’ I ask her, pressing my lips to her cap. ‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘It’s not what I wanted,’ she says, burrowing her face into my coat. ‘I mean, it’s not like I had an idea of what I wanted in my head, I just want you to do what’s right for you. But I’m happy, yeah. I’m happy I’m in your plan.’
You are my plan, I want to say.
‘Shall we find a café? Get on Rightmove?’ I ask instead, bundling her in beside me as we start walking again.
She nods, still smiling.
‘Have you told Marcus?’ she asks.
The glow of happiness dims a little at that. ‘Not yet. But I will, soon. He’s not – he’s not totally on board with the idea, so . . .’
I trail off. Addie says nothing.
‘He’ll come around,’ I say.
Addie still says nothing.
‘You OK?’
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Just . . . I got excited for a minute there.’
‘And then . . . unexcited again?’
‘Well, if you’ve not told Marcus yet, it’s not – I’m just not sure you’ve totally made your mind up.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t be mad. It’s just usually when you say yes to something before you’ve chatted to Marcus about it, you end up changing your mind.’
I slow. ‘Do I?’
‘It’s fine – I just won’t start planning moving out quite yet,’ Addie says, looking up at me with an effort at a smile. ‘Sorry. Have I upset you?’
‘No, no,’ I say, though I’m not sure. ‘And you know Marcus is only . . . he just has my best interests at heart.’
‘Of course he does,’ Addie says. Her tone is strange.
‘Addie?’ I slow again, shifting my arm from around her so I can see her face. ‘Addie, are you annoyed with Marcus about something?’
‘No, no! It’s fine.’
‘You said that already, and it’s even less convincing this time.’
‘It’s fine, Dylan. How about that café? Dad says they do really good carrot cake.’
‘Addie.’
She presses her hands to her face and lets out a little noise, half-growl, half-groan. ‘Please don’t, Dylan, I don’t want to talk about this.’
‘What’s this? What are we even talking about? Marcus? Has he done something to upset you?’
‘Has he . . .’ She comes to a standstill and pulls away from my arm. ‘Have you honestly not noticed?’
‘Noticed what?’ I’m going cold now; it feels like the moment in the horror film when you know something is about to jump out, and you’re just waiting for that sickening jolt in your stomach.
‘He has some kind of . . . problem with me,’ she says. ‘He ignores me, half the time. He hardly ever even looks at me, actually. And lately he always makes these little comments when we’re all together. Things about how I’m bad for you, and stuff like that.’
I swallow, remembering the night when Marcus had told me Addie was messy, raw, pacing back and forth with that foaming beer in his hand.
‘And he was so desperate to get you to go and live with him in that weird cabin in the woods at the bottom of his parents’ garden . . .’
‘That was incredibly kind of him,’ I say, frowning. ‘Offering me somewhere to live.’
‘I know, I know, but it was also – oh, never mind,’ she says, walking again. ‘I wish I’d never brought it up.’
‘Don’t do that, hey,’ I say, jogging to catch up and snagging her arm. ‘Hey, slow down, Addie! If you’re upset, we should talk about it.’
‘But how does it sound? It sounds awful. It sounds like I’m trying to get in between you and your best friend, and – and that’s probably exactly what he wants you to think I’m trying to do, and now I’m playing right into his hands, and . . .’