The End is Where We Begin by Maria Goodin (open ebook .txt) 📕

“Oh, he’s fine with it. It’s just temporary anyway.”

She quickly takes a big glug of wine.

“Actually, the little flat here’s really nice,” she says. “Have you seen it?”

I shake my head.

“Oh, come and have a quick look!”

Above the pub is Stu and Irena’s flat, and above that, it turns out, is a small converted attic space accessed via a narrow stairwell. There’s a double futon, some drawers, a narrow wardrobe, a tatty armchair, a camping stove and a small fridge all in one room. Next door there’s a toilet and sink. The slope of the ceiling means I can only stand up straight in one half of the room.

“I just have to pop downstairs to use the shower,” Libby explains. “I have everything else I need though. I can even cook. I mean, I don’t because Stu and Irena insist I eat with them, but I could if I wanted to.”

I gaze out of the skylight above the bed into the descending darkness. Drizzle speckles the glass.

“It’s… compact,” I say, looking around me.

“I lived for eighteen years on a boat, remember?” she smiles. “I’m used to compact.”

“Well, when you and Will move to your posh house in Woodside it’s gonna feel like a mansion after this!”

Libby looks down at the bare floorboards and shakes her head, not taking the bait this time. My attempt at humour hasn’t even raised a smile.

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “well, to be honest, even the smallest flats I’ve lived in have felt like mansions to me. All these jokes about living in a big house and whatever… none of that matters to me really. I’m not used to having space. I don’t know how to fill it. It’s not a house I want, it’s a home. There’s a big difference.”

I study her face, wondering what’s going through her mind, until she looks up at me, all smiles again.

“And the best thing about this place,” she grins, “is this.”

She scoops a disgruntled-looking cat off the armchair and presses her face into his matted grey fur.

“This is apparently your favourite place to hang out, isn’t it, Crumble? So you’re gonna keep me company, aren’t you?”

She waggles the cat’s paws as if he’s waving at me. He looks utterly fed up to have been disturbed, but he tolerates the abuse.

“I always wanted a cat when I was younger,” Libby tells me, as if I don’t already know this about her.

“Don’t you need a blind or something over that skylight?”

“Well, the sun did wake me up at the crack of dawn last Sunday, which was a pain. But, on the other hand, when I was trying to get to sleep, I just lay there gazing at the stars for a while. It was really nice. It reminded me of being back on the boat. Just sitting in the bow, gazing at the stars… I used to love that.”

“Yeah, I know you did,” I say distractedly, pondering how you might fit a blind if you needed one, “you taught me all about the constellations.”

As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I regret it. It’s too personal, too intimate.

I remember she’d been shocked to discover I knew nothing about astrology and had taken it upon herself to educate me. We’d made ourselves a bed of blankets in the bow of the boat and snuggled close, our breath forming faint clouds of vapour against the cold evening air. We’d started off talking in hushed voices, her pointing up at the evening sky while I played with her hair, distracted by her closeness. We’d ended up clumsily tugging and pulling at each other’s clothes underneath the covers, hands searching, feeling, exploring undiscovered territory…

“Do you want to…?” I’d asked her.

“I’m not sure,” she’d said.

“It’s up to you.”

“Do you have a… you know.”

“Yes. But only… you know, just in case. I wasn’t thinking…I mean, we don’t have to.”

“Do you want to?” she asked.

“Umm… yes. But only if you do.”

“I don’t know if I feel ready…”

“That’s fine.”

“Can we wait?”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world, haven’t we?”

“Yeah,” I told her, “we’ve got forever.”

The way she looks at me now, the way her eyes dart away, the slight colour that rises in her cheeks, tells me that she’s been reminded of that evening, too.

She quickly places the cat down on his chair, but he’s fed up now and runs past me and out of the door.

“Erm… should we…?”

“Yeah,” I say, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck, “we should…”

“It sounds like the band’s started up again.”

“Yeah, let’s go—”

“Actually, you know what? I’m kind of tired. I might stay here and call it a night if that’s—”

“Yeah, I need to go pick Josh up from the cinema anyway so—”

“Are you okay to—”

“Sure, I’ll see myself out.”

“Oh, I meant tomorrow. Are you okay to get here about half nine again? Or whenever. I mean, whenever you’re ready is fine, don’t feel—”

“Half nine’s fine.”

“Oh, watch the—”

“Ouch!”

“Yeah, the ceiling’s really low there. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. No worries.”

I leave hastily, rubbing my head, feeling awkward and clumsy on more than one level.

I lied. I don’t have to pick Josh up from the cinema for ages. He doesn’t see why I won’t just let him and Sam walk home together, seeing as Sam lives just at the end of our road, but I’m not having him wandering through town on a Saturday night at closing time. I’ve been on the end of hassle too many times myself. And at fifteen you don’t see the risks. You don’t worry about who’s lurking in the dark. You don’t think twice about taking a shortcut. You’re untouchable. Until the moment you’re not.

Kicking myself for my clumsiness with Libby, I head straight through the bar and out onto the street, dropping Michael a quick text to let him know I’ve left. The light has almost faded and I walk slowly through town, letting the light drizzle dampen my T-shirt. I gaze through the windows of