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Stuart stopped abruptly and turned to face her, his palms held out, keeping her slightly back.

‘So here it is. Is it everything you dreamed?’ and Ada looked around him at the harbour. It was flat and unbothered. Ada realised from the colour of the water that the sky must have darkened and now that she was standing still she felt chilly in her light hoodie. Liverpool summer didn’t extend to dusk, she supposed, but she decided to see beauty in the grey. She walked closer to the water and then sat on the concrete edge, her feet dangling. Stuart approached her circuitously, weaving around pylons, seemingly reluctant.

‘Come sit!’ Ada said, as though she was hosting, and so he did.

Stuart took out the bottles of wine, handed her the white and opened the red. Ada paused to see if there were any cups on this seaside picnic, but when Stuart swigged from his bottle, she followed suit. Stuart opened the crisps and they passed the bags back and forth and Ada distantly remembered her restaurant hopes and felt foolish. She had come to Liverpool to meet him on his level and that was here, by the water, greasy fingers and shared bottles. What else could she need or want from a young artist than to wipe away the crumbs and watch the sky change around them?

They spoke fragilely for a few minutes until Ada asked about his coworker who kept giving his number to customers. They’d mocked this coworker relentlessly in their chats and slipped easily back in. It was as though they’d forgotten their shared history and needed it dragged off their phones into the conversation. Things flowed and the street lights popped on around them and the wine helped.

Stuart drank, then put the bottle down and turned to Ada.

‘This feels like … like I’m meeting a dream. Because I think I slightly … because I misremembered you. You’re how I imagined but you’re also … this is weird but I imagined your messages in your voice so much and you don’t sound the way you did.’

Ada clenched her hands and felt she was losing something. ‘I guess I use a different voice on stage?’ and Stuart said, ‘Maybe that’s it,’ and looked away from her. She needed something from him so she touched his hand and said, ‘What?’ They were silent and the seagulls overhead screamed. Stuart said, ‘I painted you. From memory. And now … I’m worried I did a shit job.’ Ada moved her hand to his hip and pulled slightly. ‘Then you’ll have to paint me again.’

Stuart jerked towards her, his fingers suddenly on her thigh, and Ada felt desperately grateful. He dug his nails into her skin and she went cold all over. He was still, more still than she knew he could be. Only his eyes moved, from his hand on her thigh up her body to her throat where he stopped. ‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ he said to her goosebumped neck, and she said, ‘I’m sorry I’m not how you remembered,’ and he didn’t look up as he said, ‘You’re better.’ And she reached down and pushed his nails in deeper until he kissed her because he had nowhere else to go.

EIGHTEEN

21/09/2017

Melanie Baker

12:15

SO HOW IS IT, HOW IS HE, TELL ME EVERYTHING

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Melanie Baker

12:21

Also not to be too much of a mum but you said you’d message as soon as you got in and you haven’t so please check in

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Melanie Baker