31. Holly, London

Abuzzing on the bedside table wakes me. The left side of my head throbs and my skin is clammy and hot. I throw off the doona and reach for the glass of water I don't recall pouring. As I drain it, memories of last night filter into my mind. I turned the heating up at some point and forgot to turn it down. That, combined with the sunshine beating against the windows, makes the flat feel like a hot yoga studio. My phone stops and starts again a second later. I grab it, expecting it to be Casey, but it's Adam. I bolt upright – it's 7 pm in Melbourne on a Saturday evening and he wouldn't normally call at this time.

‘Adam?' I say, my voice urgent.

‘Hi, Hols.'

His tone is heavy and I stiffen. ‘Is it Mum?'

‘Yeah.'

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall.

‘They think she's had a stroke. About an hour ago. She's okay; don't freak out. It was small, apparently, but she's in the ambulance to the Royal Melbourne. She'll need to have MRIs and stuff because, well, you know what another stroke could mean for her.'

My body relaxes with the relief that it's not worse news. ‘I'll come home as quick as I can.'

‘You don't need to. I just wanted you to know. We can maybe call you later, once she's settled into a room or something?'

‘Yes please, but I'm coming. I'll check flights now. Let her know I'm on my way.'

‘Are you sure? You only just got there, and it'll be expensive to get a ticket at short notice, won't it?'

‘That doesn't matter.'

‘Righto. I'll call when I know more.'

I hang up, take two painkillers, make coffee and hop back in bed with my laptop to search flights. The first available isn't until early tomorrow morning. I book it and message Adam the details.

Then there's that silence again, the enormity of it swallowing me. I peer at the empty space beside me where Casey should be. Would she be sleeping peacefully? Maybe she'd be walking around naked or in the shower, singing. No, she'd be holding me close, murmuring caring words in my ear, keeping me calm about what's happened and urging me to return home as quickly as I can. The thought makes my chest ache, and I jump out of bed to prevent myself from curling into a pathetic, miserable ball. I can't visit my relatives because they're out of London this weekend, but I can't be alone in here all day. I switch on the TV for background noise while I shower and dress, then head out with my camera.

On the tube, I read through the string of messages Casey sent last night. Short messages pleading for me to give her a chance. Long, rambling sentences explaining herself. I read the last one she sent at 2 am.

Please let me explain. Please forgive me. I love you.

I run my thumb across those last three words. I didn't want her to tell me that in a message. I wanted her to whisper it in my ear while we were entwined in bed, or as we walked the streets of London hand in hand, or when we were drinking nice wine in a bar. But most of all, I wanted her to tell me at the right time, if and when we reached that point, not because she thinks she needs to.

I shove my phone back into my bag, burying the reminder of her, and get off at Westminster. Above ground, I grab a triple-shot black coffee and a savoury croissant and wander to the Abbey – one of Mum's favourite landmarks. I lose myself taking a series of wide shots capturing the magnificence of the building and the contrast of stone against blue sky, and close-ups of the intricate carvings of martyrs framing the entrance. Next to me, a group of teenagers snap each other on phones, trying to get themselves all in the frame. I intervene to help them out, circulating their phones for different photos, and for a short while, the joy of what I'm doing numbs my heartache.

Once they're gone, and I'm happy with my own photos, I take my time walking through St James's Park and the old London streets until I find myself in Trafalgar Square and stop for more food. While I eat, I select a few images and upload them to Instagram, knowing that Casey will see them. Maybe Eva will too. Maybe they'll see them together, back in their shared home, wherever that is. A sourness rises in my throat, but I force it down and focus on the shots I've taken today, scrolling image after image.

In the afternoon I walk around central London, absorbing the architecture. I want to go into the National Gallery and the Tate but the idea of seeing art without Casey hurts too much, so I head back to my Airbnb to hopefully sleep ahead of a 5 am journey back to Heathrow, not even forty-eight hours after I've arrived. I take the tube to Angel. The bus would've been nicer, but I crave the darkness of the underground, the tight tunnels, the rocking carriage, and the anonymity of a crowd.

Back at the flat, I heat up a chicken curry ready-meal that I grabbed at the Tesco Metro on the corner and sort out my clothes and luggage for the morning. My phone rings and my stomach lurches when I see Casey's image flash on the screen. She hasn't called all day and I had started to think if she'd given up that easily, then I really meant nothing to her. My head tells me not to answer but my heart overrules, and my hand shoots out to snatch up the phone. ‘What?'

‘Oh God, you answered. Can I see you?'

‘No.'

‘Please. I'm outside.'

‘What?' I walk over to the window and lift it open.

She's on the footpath looking up. ‘You told me during the week where you were staying, remember?'

‘I've got nothing to say.'

‘But I have, if you'll let me,' she says.

Even from this height, the despair on her face crushes me. ‘Fine. I'm on the second floor – 2A.' I buzz her in, unlock the flat door and lean against the frame until she appears, bounding up the stairs two at a time. Seeing her turns my legs weak, but I steel myself.

‘Can I come in?' she says.

I walk inside and sit at the small dining table. Casey shuts the door behind her and tentatively sits across from me. Her eyes are heavy and red-rimmed, and I'm glad.

‘Thanks.' She looks around. ‘This is nice.'

‘What do you want, Casey?'

She takes a deep breath. ‘Not telling you the truth was stupid. But it all happened so fast, and I got swept away in it – in us. I've spent a decade wondering what happened to you and suddenly there you were. I didn't want anything to spoil that, and I knew it was over with Eva.'

‘Then why didn't you tell her?' My voice wobbles, but I won't let her see me crack.

‘My head was a mess about our relationship. She was fixated on the wedding, and I thought I should try and make it work, but as the date got closer, I struggled. I couldn't think straight. She was in my ear constantly about the wedding. Mum and Jaz were at me to sort it. When I wasn't dealing with that, work was stupid busy. It wasn't until I was on my own in Berlin that it became clear to me. I went to the park the day before we met, and that's when I knew for certain I couldn't stay with Eva. It was partly because I remembered being there with you and how much you meant to me, and I couldn't marry Eva when I had unresolved feelings for someone else. It's true that I told her when I got back from Berlin. She did that little performance yesterday to hurt me because I hurt her.'

Casey takes my hand and my body warms from her touch. ‘When you and I went for dinner that first night, we didn't talk about other relationships. And at the river, I was about to tell you – the words were right there – but then we kissed and it felt so right, like I'd found something I thought I'd never find. I didn't want to spoil it.'

I look away because the pleading in her eyes is wearing me down. I intentionally avoided talking about Tom or Lily at dinner, but I don't recall hesitancy from her before we kissed. Still, she had the choice to tell me afterwards, and she didn't.

Her thumb skims over my knuckles. ‘I wanted to tell you on Saturday,' she says. ‘When we were in the park and you told me about leaving Tom. I was so close to telling you.'

Despite the hurt she's caused me, a guilty heat spreads over my face. I knew she wanted to tell me something that day and I wouldn't let her. ‘I would've dealt with it, Casey. I would've understood. But to lie to me, then spend another four nights with me, ask me to come to London, pretending I was the only person in your life…' I shake my head. ‘I'm not some fragile little thing who can't cope with the truth.'

‘I know you're not. It was a shitty thing to do. To you and to Eva. I was trying not to hurt either of you.'

Envy ripples through me that she wanted to protect Eva, but then I check myself because why wouldn't she? If what she's saying is true, she must have loved Eva at some point to get engaged. ‘Having to come back here suddenly, that was because of Eva, wasn't it?'

Casey nods. ‘Her dad had a car accident. I called her all day on Tuesday so I could tell her it was over, and when she finally called me back, she told me about her dad. I couldn't tell her then, so I came home. But when I arrived, he was fine. She hadn't told me because she wanted me to come back early.'

I retract my hand. I've heard enough. ‘This can't work for us, Casey. It's too late.'

‘Of course it's not too late.'

‘How do I know you won't do the same to me in the future? How do I know you're not still sleeping with Eva? I mean, she's a beautiful woman.'

She strokes my cheek. ‘So are you, and I swear to you that I'm not sleeping with her.'

‘You were at the pub with her, buying her a drink.' I shrug. ‘You weren't expecting me until the next day.'

‘I met her to give her back the keys to the flat. I was getting her a drink because she'd bought me one then I was going back to work.'

‘You couldn't return the keys some other way?'

‘I wanted to, but Eva's pushy; she insisted, and the pub is right across from work.'

‘When were you going to tell me?'

‘Today. I was going to meet you at Heathrow, bring you here and tell you the truth.'

‘Here? So you were going to fuck me first and then tell me?'

Shock flashes in her eyes. ‘God, Holly, no. Of course not. I didn't want to tell you over the phone with you in Berlin and me here.'

‘Anyway, none of this matters because I'm going home tomorrow.'

Casey's eyes widen. ‘To Melbourne?'

I nod.

Her swallow is audible. ‘Please don't.'

‘I have to.' My voice cracks, and I take a deep breath to get through the next sentence. ‘Mum had a stroke and she's in hospital.'

Casey slumps back in the chair, defeated.

My heart aches for us, for what we could've been. I want to pull her close. To kiss her lovely mouth. To wrap my arms and legs around her and stay like that until the morning. But that would be too painful because once I'm home, I don't know that I'll ever come back.

She wipes a tear from her cheek. ‘I guess it's too soon to ask if there's any chance of you coming back?'

‘I don't know. I need to be there for Mum.'

Casey nods, a deep sadness etched on her face.

I stand, needing her to leave before I relent. ‘I have to be up early, so you should go.'

She stands too and fixes me with an intense stare, like she senses my urge to hold her one last time. ‘Let me stay. I'll go with you to Heathrow in the morning.'

I hesitate, desperate for that, but no, we were never meant to be. I can't trust her, this stranger I thought I could love, this fantasy I'd created and built in my head. ‘No, Casey. This is over.' I force myself to walk to the door and hold it open.

She steps in front of me and cups my cheek, and I instinctively lean into her palm.

‘Please try and forgive me,' she says. ‘I am so, so sorry I hurt you. I'll always regret it and I've always loved you.'

Those words about love again. I squeeze my eyes shut as a tear escapes. When I open them, she's still there, so close. I tilt my head forward, and then her lips are on mine, sweet and warm. I let out a sob and clutch her face as our kiss deepens.

She rests her forehead against mine and places her hand flat against my chest. ‘I know you feel the same.'

‘Goodbye, Casey,' I choke.

But she doesn't respond, just kisses me one last time and jogs down the stairs.

I race to the window, waiting for her to appear. She steps out onto the footpath and glances up, gives me a sad smile, and disappears around the corner. And for a second time, my heart collapses as I watch her walk away.