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Elin

Clínica de recupera??o, Portugal, October 2021

‘Thanks for coming. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.’

Elin glances up to see Steed walking down the steps from the clinic towards her.

A cool breeze sends her hair dancing about her face, momentarily obscuring him, but when she pushes it away to get a proper look at him, she senses a change. Though he still looks tired, drawn, the wild skittishness of the past week or so is gone.

There’s a softness to him that brings to mind the old Steed. The Steed who was one of her closest friends.

Memories flicker to life in her head – the two of them poring over notes in the office, splayed on the sofa together in her flat. Hours spent in their local café, heads bent close over coffee. Little moments that turned strangers into friends.

Elin finds herself faltering, mouth caught somewhere between a grimace and a smile. ‘I wanted to see her, after everything.’ She gestures towards the blocky shape of the clinic. ‘How is she?’

‘Better than I thought.’ A brief light appears in Steed’s eyes. ‘Don’t think it’s going to be long before she’s out. Still got some more rehab, but she’s getting there.’

‘I’m glad.’

An uneasy silence falls between them, broken only by a motorbike growling past them, the exhaust loudly misfiring as it reaches the end of the road.

‘Kier …’ he starts and then stops, heat creeping up his cheeks.

‘I’m not going to tell Kier about what you did, if that’s what you’re wondering,’ Elin says quickly, noticing his awkwardness. ‘I’m guessing she probably couldn’t cope with any more. Not right now.’

Steed’s face constricts as he shifts from foot to foot. ‘That’s not what I was going to say. It’s up to you what you tell her. None of that’s my call.’ He exhales. ‘I just wanted to say a proper thank you. To you and to Isaac. For everything you did. How you helped find her … It means everything to have her back, Elin. Etta too.’ The light appears in his eyes again as he says Etta’s name.

‘You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to do it, for Kier.’ It’s the truth. She could now lay that nagging guilt to rest, the sense that she’d somehow failed Kier, in not getting back to her.

‘I know, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, again. Sorry for it all.’ Steed’s eyes are shining with emotion. ‘No excuses this time. No caveats. How I behaved, it was shitty, inexcusable, and I’m sorry.’

Though he’s trying to keep his expression neutral, a flicker of it is there – what she’d glimpsed up at the clearing – hope. A part of him is still clinging to the idea that she’ll accept his apology. That it will open up a route to them becoming friends again.

In all honesty, Elin can’t say that the same route hadn’t, however briefly, crossed her mind.

These past few days she’d thought about it a lot, and with the initial raw outrage dulled a little, her feelings weren’t quite as clear-cut as before. While she was still struggling with what he’d done, she felt she was starting to understand parts of what may have triggered it .

But now, with him stood just a few feet away from her, it’s clear that kind of sentiment is one thing in theory, but very different in practice. Forgiveness is an easier concept to grapple with at a distance. Seeing him is dredging everything back up. Not just what he’d done to her, to Isaac, but how much she’d once cared for him.

The enormity of what they’d lost.

Her cheeks are burning, her mouth dry. Panic flares: she’s not ready for this, not for any kind of rapprochement.

‘Look, I’d better go. Don’t want to miss visiting hours.’ Making a fuss of checking her watch, Elin starts to walk past him.

Steed nods, a sadness in his eyes. ‘You take care, okay?’

‘You too.’ Striding towards the clinic, Elin can sense his gaze on her, but she doesn’t turn.

Eyes fixed straight ahead, she keeps on walking up the steps, head held high. No looking back.