‘This has nothing to do with my conscience,’ Finn said.
‘Then why do you care, Finn? Seriously, you cut me loose without a second thought.’
Finn winced as though she’d punched him. ‘Cut you loose?’ he said incredulously. ‘You’re the one who said we needed time apart.’
‘And you really embraced that didn’t you?’ She couldn’t help the bitterness in her voice. ‘Judging from your Instagram account, you’ve had the best two months of your life.’
Finn’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m a fucking drug addict, Kel. The past two months have been a living nightmare. I can’t live without you in my life.’
Kelly was stunned. ‘But you can’t live properly with me in it, either,’ she whispered.
They stared at each other. Finn’s wet eyes and dilated pupils glistened under the stark white downlights.
‘We’ve always said we were the warriors, you and me,’ Finn said. ‘But we’re not. You’re the warrior. I’m just the one whose heart has sworn allegiance to you until the day I die.’
Kelly shifted uncomfortably at his mention of death.
He shook his head at her, like he was staring at a fantastical creation, hardly able to believe his eyes. ‘You’re special, Kel. And not just special smart, or kind, or funny. Or even beautiful. You’re the kind of special that can’t be defined. Or contained. It’s like you’re a brilliant idea that’s just too complex for people to understand or appreciate. You exist on another plane to the rest of us. When I’m around you, I feel humbled and inspired at the same time. But, mostly, just really fucking lucky that I met you when I was eleven years old. I’ve watched you, this brilliant idea, without fully understanding but always fully appreciating that I was in the presence of God when I was with you.’
Kelly’s throat compressed painfully. Her own eyes stung with tears. She felt agonisingly self-conscious and sought refuge in deflection. ‘You don’t believe in God,’ she whispered hoarsely.
‘No, I don’t believe in God. And yet to experience you is to know the divine.’
Kelly forcefully exhaled. Bit her lip. Tried to hold back the flood.
Finn smiled. ‘I’ve booked two tickets to Newcastle on the seven o’clock flight. I’ll be at the departure lounge at six.’ He walked past her, careful not to make contact.
At the door, he turned back. ‘I’ll wait for you, Kel.’ Then his eyes lit up. ‘And if you won’t do it for me or you, do it for Eli. He’s the poor bastard who paid two thousand bucks for the business class seats.’
Chapter Forty-three
Finn sat in the plastic bucket seat with his eyes closed. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He probably looked like a nut with an intense fear of flying, but it was all he could do to manage the gnawing ache in every nerve end of his body. He desperately needed a hit but there was no way he could bring coke to an airport.
He heard giggling and opened his eyes. Directly opposite him in another row of seats were two teenage girls. He smiled at them. They blushed furiously and turned their heads towards each other with such conviction, they banged foreheads, which made them giggle even more. And turn crimson with embarrassment.
People started to look at him quizzically withHey, don’t I know you?faces. He stood up and searched for another place to wait but the departure lounge was full, every seat taken. He could have gone to the business class lounge, but he didn’t think Kelly would look for him there. He’d emailed her boarding pass so she could check her bags in and come to the gate. And he needed to be here when she did.
If she did.
He walked to the far corner of the lounge and a deep and shameful part of him hoped she wouldn’t turn up so that he could go and get a coke fix before this gnawing ate him alive. He clenched his fists with self-loathing, despising his pathetic addiction but knowing he’d do a line right now without hesitation if it was offered.
He took up an observation post and looked out over the lounge. He could see the approach and every single passenger who arrived from his vantage point. It was six twenty-five and she still hadn’t appeared. Kelly was never late. It wasn’t her style. But she was cutting it fine – if she was coming at all.
The first boarding call was announced. Business class and special needs passengers. Finn sneered inwardly. He was clearly both but didn’t move. Then the riff-raff was invited to board. They lined up with slavish obedience, winding around the rows of seats. One by one by one, they scanned in, endured the fake smiles of the aircrew and shuffled down the gangway like lambs to the slaughterhouse.
Finn checked his watch. Six forty. The crowd was thinning but there was still a queue. At six forty-five, he knew it was over.
A flight attendant approached him. ‘Excuse me, sir, are you on this flight?’
‘I was meant to be flying with a friend, but she hasn’t turned up. So I’m not going.’
She looked annoyed. ‘Do you have any checked luggage?’
Finn laughed. It had taken all his mental acuity to pack the small carry-on bag at his feet. ‘No.’
The attendant’s face cleared. ‘Did you book both seats at the same time?’
‘Yes.’
