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Her hand lands on my back, affectionately, presses my dress, hot from the heater behind us, against my skin.
‘I mean, I thought I did for a while, but .?.?. I’ve come to realise, now I’ve found Kira, that Maria taught me how to be vulnerable. And also, taught me whatreallove is. Because it wasn’t what she gave me.’
‘God, Petra, I’m going to cry now.’
‘Drink!’ Petra says, ushering my glass to my mouth. ‘Do the healthy thing and drown it all out.’
We both drink, but then stop, when someone behind us drops a glass that smashes (and then, of course, as per pub law, causes a cheer to erupt through the pub).
‘Don’t regret Jack,’ Petra says into my ear, over the noise. ‘Because I don’t think he regrets you. Not for a moment.’
‘But I don’t think Jack regrets anything, Petra,’ I say. ‘He’s .?.?. different. He doesn’t follow the crowd, he doesn’t really lay down roots and .?.?. he’s all about adventure, and living life for life’s sake.’
Petra smiles.
‘Like you.’
I smile. ‘Me?’
‘Uh,yes.’ Petra knocks her arm to mine, then pauses, a warm smile spreading into her cheeks. ‘Millie, when I first met you, when Ihiredyou, you told me that temping worked for you because it was a stopgap and you weren’t ready to hang your hat on anything. Do you remember?’
I nod, hesitantly, but sometimes I struggle to remember the girl that walked into Flye’s offices, almost five years ago. ‘I do. Itwasmeant to be a stopgap. Some bloody stopgap that was.’
‘I remember you opened up about university and how disappointed your mum was. How you wanted to save some money, and think about what you wanted to do. That you’d never really found out. I remember you were reading—’
‘Eat Pray Love,’ I say, smiling. ‘Oh my God, I read that book so many times.’
‘I think you’re a hibernating adventurer, Millie.’ Petra smiles widely, and there’s something about that phrase that makes me laugh, but also, opens up something in my chest. Something in bloom. A seed, sprouted. ‘And maybe .?.?. maybe Jack’ – she glances over at him now, a bottle of beer in his lovely, tanned hand, listening intently to an extremely already-drunk Paul Foot – ‘taught you to remember who you are when you finally emerge again. Wake up. Go out into the spring, you know?’
And it feels right. Petra’s soft, warm, loving words, feel right.
I watch Jack, for a little, as Petra and I drink. I rest my head on her shoulder. ‘Was I happy?’ I ask her.
‘When I first met you?’
I nod.
‘Yes.I mean, you were a little lost, like we all are in our twenties, but – you were excited. Hungry for whatever life had to give.’
‘And then what?’
And I feel her take a deep, long breath in and she turns to me. I lift my head. ‘Heartbreak,’ she says.
‘Owen,’ I say.
Petra nods and looks ahead again, and leans her head against mine. Someone behind us cheers, and I hear Jack laugh. I could pick that warm, husky laugh out of a line-up. I’ll miss that laugh so very much.
‘He blew out your fire,’ says Petra. ‘And it’s like you’ve kept to a small flame ever since. So that it’s not seen, or so it doesn’t grow, or set fire to something, illuminate you. You’ve kept yourself in the dark. The lights, dimmed.’
I close my eyes, a tear tickles corner of my eye and plops out, onto Petra’s jumper.
‘And I know this becauseIhave done it. But is that living, Millie? I don’t think it is. So, what, because you’re afraid of getting hurt, you never jump, hope for the best? Living is being bruised. Living isfeelingeverything the heart can. The pain, the ache, the good and bad. You can’t have one without the contrast of the other.’
A warm hand lands on my shoulder. ‘Hello, the queens of my heart.’
I twist around to see Kira. She leans and kisses the top of Petra’s head. She’s still wearing her paramedic’s uniform. Her big brown eyes are lined with a flick of turquoise liquid liner.
‘Hi, Kira.’ I smile.
