Page 117 of Little Miss Fortune

And for a second, I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

EPILOGUE

Toby is now sleeping through the nights. Which is good, one of us has to.

I on the other hand, am not.

His treatment so far has been successful. Great prognosis, good response to the classic ABVD regimen. He is currently in partial remission.

I should relax, but my eyes are glued to his rising and falling chest—my nightly activity. Who knew that losing my mother to cancer would cause me to be neurotic about my boyfriend and check that he is still alive every time I come for a sleepover?

We are not living together; that would be way too quick, but I do stay here five nights out of seven, helping with anything I can, which annoys Toby. He grumbles about being helpless and stuff but throws in a crude comment or two if I bend over to clean anything, so I know he’s getting better.

Unsurprisingly, his parents were not happy about us getting more serious, but I think his mother is coming round to the idea. You see, I was the one who pushed Toby to tell them. We argued, we cried, but all agreed to be there for him. We are not Facebook friends yet, but she did ask me for my surname last week at dinner.

That, or maybe she’s trying to dig up some dirt on me or my family.

‘You did your heavy sigh,’ Toby murmurs, rolling over to give me a hug. ‘Are you watching me sleep again?’

‘Like I have nothing else to do.’ I pretend not to be worried.

‘What time is it?’ he asks, finding my forehead with his lips and giving me gentle kisses.

‘Quarter to seven.’ Winters in the UK are so dark, the sun will probably rise around midday.

‘Did you sleep at all?’

‘I’ll catch up when I go back home.’

I stroke over his soft buzz cut. He is keeping his hair short until he’s done with treatment. I think the sight of it falling out is too much for everyone.

‘I didn’t want to do this yet, but maybe this is a good time for it.’ He gets out of my embrace.

I prop myself up. He can’t see in the dark, but there is a question on my face.

Toby gets up and pulls me out of bed. A blanket is thrown over my knees as he turns his computer on. The TV lights the room with a soft blue light.

‘Oh, please, not this Gandhi nuclear bomb game again.’

‘Oh, this is so much better. Close your eyes.’

I follow his orders. He presses a few buttons, and an eight-bit tune starts playing from his sound system.

‘Voila!’ he says, letting me know I can look.

A familiar welcome screen with an animated conductor is displayed. Some text in Japanese asking about the type of game we want to play—single or multiplayer.

‘Is that Momotaro Dentetsu?’ I ask in awe.

‘Yup.’

‘How did you... Isn’t it only released in Japan?’

‘I’ve emulated it. I didn’t know which exact version you played, so I went with the highest-rated one. There’s no English version, however, so you will have to translate.’

A smug smile on his face is telling me that my own is lit up in excitement.

We set up for a quick game. I explain the rules, which are quite simple. You travel round Japan to buy property, but there are also destinations that we are trying to reach before the other.