Page 107 of The Fall-Out

‘We’re not four.’

And so, eventually, we’d settled on launching paper boats into the Thames off Westminster Bridge. Clara had been tasked with researching biodegradable paper and I’d got Patch to find an idiot-proof boat-folding tutorial for us to follow. Abbie had researched the tides and informed us that on the morning of Andy’s birthday, the river would be high and there’d be a good chance of our vessels being carried all the way out to sea.

The previous night, I’d neglected my law studies to write a letter to Andy and eventually copied my fourth attempt carefully on to the knobbly surface of the paper.

And now the time had come to say our final goodbye.

I emerged from the station into the bright morning and threaded my way through crowds of commuters and tourists on to the bridge. The water was the brightest blue, reflecting the sunlight so brilliantly it hurt to look at it. The paving stones still gleamed with last night’s rain. The air was full of the scent of candied nuts coming from a street vendor’s cart, whose smell I’d recognise anywhere but which I’d never tasted.

Rowan, Abbie and Kate were already waiting on the bridge, in the middle as we’d agreed, facing east. Abbie had a rainbow-hued golf umbrella furled by her side. Kate was wearing the purple coat she’d bought for Andy’s funeral. Rowan was holding a bright pink insulated coffee mug.

‘There you are, Nome.’

‘Sorry I’m late.’

I walked into the circle of their arms and our four bodies pressed together for a moment, warm against the autumn chill.

‘I tell you what, this thing was a right fucker to make.’ Kate took her boat out of her pocket and carefully eased its corners back into shape. I could see that both sides were covered with her tidy royal-blue handwriting.

‘Clara did mine in the end,’ Rowan said. ‘I told her if she didn’t help we’d go for balloons, and sod the otters.’

‘I couldn’t decide what to write,’ fretted Abbie. ‘I tried and tried, but in the end I left it blank. I hope that’s okay.’

‘Andy wouldn’t have minded,’ I assured her. ‘He knows how you feel.’

‘That’s good, because I’m not even sure I know how I feel.’

‘I’ll never stop being sad.’ Kate sighed. ‘But you get used to it, don’t you?’

‘It’s kind of like background noise, now,’ agreed Rowan.

‘And we’re all here,’ I told them firmly. ‘That’s the main thing. If we weren’t – or if one of us wasn’t – that would have been the worst.’

‘The very worst,’ agreed Abbie, wiping her nose on her sleeve. ‘I’d rather Andy was still here but since he isn’t – well, at least we are.’

‘Come on then, let’s do this,’ urged Rowan.

We turned and leaned over the water: Kate, then Rowan, then Abbie, then me. Linking arms, we reached out over the balustrade, our fragile crafts in our hands.

‘I love you guys,’ I said.

‘Love you,’ the others echoed. ‘Love you, Andy. Happy birthday.’

‘Three, two, one,’ Kate counted, and together we released the little paper crafts. Gusts of wind caught them, whirling them upside down and then back upright as they neared the water. Somehow, all four landed and floated, the current bearing them rapidly away.

We watched until we couldn’t see them any longer, and then turned back.

On the other side of the bridge, I saw her. Or at least, I thought I did. Watching us from behind oversized black sunglasses, a cream trench coat fluttering around her legs in the breeze, her hair shining in the sun as if it had been polished.

Zara.

I lifted my hand and waved, but then a stream of red double-decker buses passed between us, hiding her from view.

And when they’d gone, so had she.

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