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‘Why wouldn’t I come?’ he said, staring right back.
They swam as usual, dried off and got dressed. Sometimes, when they dried off on the bank, she thought she saw him glancing at her legs beneath the towel. If she saw him looking over at her, he’d immediately turn his gaze and then she wondered if she had imagined it.
As they walked towards Barney’s breakfast van together, Minnie towel-dried her hair.
‘So, how’s your week been?’ he asked.
‘Good. I got the keys to my new place in Willesden. I’m moving in this afternoon.’
‘No more ticking clocks, or I could come and hang some in your new place, make it feel more like home?’
He gave her a lopsided grin.
‘No thank you. I am looking forward to some blissful tick-free sleep.’ She paused. ‘You could help me move a few boxes in though – if you don’t have plans?’
What was she doing? She was breaking the unwritten rule; she was smashing the bell jar, breaking the bubble. Their friendship only worked on Hampstead Heath, a flat move was uncharted territory. He turned his head sideways to look at her, a questioning expression in his eyes. She could tell he was thinking it too. It sounded like such an innocuous request, one friend asking another to help them move. They both knew it wasn’t.
‘Are you sure you’d want me to help?’ he asked, his voice quiet and serious. ‘I’d probably be more of a hindrance.’
He was trying to get out of it. She was stupid to ask. Why would he want to help her move house?
‘Forget I asked,’ she said, giving him an overly cheerful smile, crushing her cheeks into tight baby fists. ‘Clearly not how anyone wants to spend their Sunday afternoon.’ She skipped forward to get ahead of him; she didn’t want him to see her look disappointed. ‘Right, whose turn is it to buy the baps? I think it might be yours, my friend.’
They got down to Barney’s and there were a couple of people queuing ahead of them. Quinn hadn’t said anything in a few minutes, and Minnie found herself pinching the skin between her thumb and forefinger.
‘I will help if you want me to,’ he said softly. She turned to look at him as they queued for the van. She saw something behind his eyes: sadness, resignation? She couldn’t read him at all. ‘I have my car here today, I could drive you.’
Minnie was about to protest, to say it had been a silly idea and she could easily do it herself in an Uber, but then she stopped herself. The conversation with Leila had made her realise the extent of her feelings for Quinn. She couldn’t go on like this, just living for Sunday. She wanted to open the bell jar, take this beyond the heath, whatever that meant.
‘That would be mega-helpful, thank you,’ she said.
‘What are friends for?’
9 August 2020
It felt strange taking Quinn to her parents’ house. She had never brought a man there.
Once they were inside, she held her fingers to her ears and moved her head like a metronome.
‘See, relaxing isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know – it’s quite charming. It’s like the house where time lives.’
She wrinkled her nose at him. She’d taken to making this face whenever he said something poetic.
‘Maybe that could be the title of my autobiography,’ she said.
She led him up to her small attic bedroom and he had to hunch to get through the rabbit-hutch-style door.
‘Oh, I love Hopper, I have a print ofNighthawksin my flat,’ said Quinn, instantly honing in onAutomat.
‘No way,’ she said, ‘I love his paintings.’ Clearly Quinn didn’t remember she’d been privy to the Amanda conversation outside his office. ‘This school friend of mine, Lacey, she moved away from London when I was fourteen. We stayed in touch writing postcards to each other for a while. She must have had a multipack of Hopper prints, because they were all his. His pictures have that association for me – kind word from a sorely missed friend.’
‘She looks so lonely, doesn’t she,’ said Quinn, looking down at the picture. ‘You want to know why she’s sad.’
‘You think she looks sad? I never thought that, I always thought she looked content in her solitude. I envy her – I’d never be brave enough to have coffee alone with my thoughts.’
Quinn looked sideways at her, still holding the print.
