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‘Not always, no,’ I said snappily, fed up with his persistent nitpicking. He didn’t like me; he was only here because he felt guilty about making me miss my train. I got it.
‘It is only an observation,’ he said, holding up his hands in surrender. ‘For example, I give you a compliment about your age and you assume I am lying. That is negative, non?’
I shrugged. ‘Whatever.’ If I’d wanted a character assassination, I could have given my mum another call.
He sat down next to me again, leaning back on his elbows. A group of women walked past, giggling together over something one of them had said.
‘I have upset you,’ he said.
‘I’m feeling sorry for myself, that’s all.’
‘You have not had a good day. A lot of bad luck.’
‘I’m honestly not usually this miserable.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You are not?’
There was no fooling him. ‘Well. Not this miserable.’
It was hardly surprising, was it, with everything that had happened? The shock of finding out I was on the wrong end of the train. The stressful transaction in the ticket office, cards being declined, falling over and hurting my ankle; the pain that still spiked through it when I walked. I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very tearful. Which was weird, because I hardly ever cried. And on the odd occasion I couldn’t stop myself, I made sure I did it in secret, completely alone, ashamed that I’d got to that point at all. I stood up so quickly that I felt dizzy. I brushed dirt off my jeans and tidied my hair and desperately tried to stop my eyes sprouting tears, because now I’d started, I couldn’t seem to stop.
‘Are you all right, Hannah?’ asked Léo, coming to stand beside me. A crying girl he barely knew was probably his worst nightmare.
I looked away, frantically brushing away the tear that was very inconveniently sliding down my cheek at the worst possible moment.
‘I’m fine,’ I said, clearing my throat. What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like he’d said anything that bad.
‘It is my fault?’ he asked, chewing on his lip.
I shook my head. ‘Not really.’
‘But it was – how do you say? – insensitive of me. To say that you are negative. I do not know you, do I? You could be a very positive person usually. Super happy. All of the time.’
Another tear appeared, in the other eye, this time. For God’s sake, what was it about this guy? On one hand he was the most annoying person I’d ever met, and on the other I’d been more emotional around him within an hour of knowing him than I was around anybody else I knew.
‘I feel very bad,’ said Léo.
‘That seems to happen a lot, doesn’t it?’
He put his hand over his mouth again, like I’d seen him do at the station.
‘Anyway, it’s not about you,’ I said. ‘Which I know must be very difficult for you to understand.’
He smiled. ‘Even if it is not about me, there must be something I can do, non?’
‘Unless you can turn back time and make it so I don’t switch seats on the train, I don’t think there is,’ I said, scrabbling in my bag for a tissue, finding one eventually amongst all the paraphernalia.
‘Let me show you Paris,’ he said with over-the-top exuberance. ‘You want to see the Eiffel Tower? The Champs-Élysées? The Arc de Triomphe?’
I blew my nose. ‘I saw most of that last time I came.’
‘You have been here before, Hannah? Why did you not say?’
What did I mention that for?
‘It was ages ago, now,’ I said dismissively, hoping he’d drop it.
‘How long did you spend here?’ he asked.
