doesn’t have to be a complete stranger,’ Imogen said, with a shrug.
Anna’s forehead furrowed. ‘You don’t seriously mean … ’
‘Aunt Françoise, yes,’ Imogen said, matter-of-factly. ‘I’m just trying to be realistic, Anna. Isn’t it worth thinking about?’
It wasn’t like Imogen didn’t feel anything. Of course she did, but she just pushed those feelings to one side. She was too young to be tied down.
‘Guess what?’ Imogen said to Luca later that afternoon, bending close in to the laptop so he could hear her from the busy seafront café.
‘What?’ he asked, smiling and taking a long drag of his hand-rolled cigarette. He let the smoke out slowly. Imogen took in the image and tried to keep it in her mind: Luca, with his top off, tanned skin, two-day stubble, dark hair. She missed him, but with nearly half her trip behind her now, the longing was almost sweet. With the goal of returning to the island in sight, she felt excited and energised – like herself again.
‘Just over a week now until I’m back,’ Imogen said, enthusiasm bubbling up in her voice.
‘Really?’ he said, grinning widely. ‘That’s fantastic. It’s gone really slowly. I can’t wait to see you again, baby.’
‘Well, you’re not going to have to. Or not for long, at least. I’m flying back the Tuesday after next.’
‘That’s great,’ Luca said, with a winning, lazy grin. Imogen bit her lip – he was so damn sexy. She could handle the wind and rain-lashed seafront, knowing that soon she’d be basking in the warmth of a Thai beach, with Luca rubbing suntan lotion onto her back.
‘I fly into Bangkok and then I’ll be coming down by bus and boat, so I’ll be with you on Thursday. Tell everyone to get ready.’
‘I will,’ Luca promised, a warm smile still on his lips. ‘Just leave the welcoming committee to me.’
‘Brilliant,’ Imogen said, feeling a piece of her regular life fall back into place. Staying on in Brighton out of guilt, or some sense of obligation to her grandmother, would have been wrong. She could see that clearly now. ‘So, what are you up to tonight?’ she asked.
‘There’s a beach party on, a few of us are going to that,’ he said. Imogen tried to ignore her envy: she’d be back there soon enough. ‘You?’ he asked.
‘Our for a drink with Anna and her friend Jess,’ she said. ‘Her wedding’s next weekend and they’re sorting out some last-minute details. I know Jess from school days too, so I’m just going along for the fun of it, some wine.’
‘Well, enjoy. And I’ll get your homecoming sorted,’ he said.
‘Thanks. I can’t wait. Bye, Luca.’ She blew a kiss at the screen.
Reluctantly, she logged off Skype, wishing she could keep his face in her mind all of the time.
She opened Facebook and posted an update:
One more week in the rainy UK and then I’m back on the beach! Save me a place under those palm trees …
‘Can we have another of these?’ Imogen said, a couple of hours later, holding up the empty bottle of white wine with a smile and waving it towards the barman. Jess, Imogen and Anna were tucked into a quiet candlelit corner at Smokey Joe’s, a bar in the Lanes with friendly staff, an extra-long happy hour and a legendary jukebox. Even on Sunday night, it was packed inside.
‘You look amazing, Imogen,’ Jess said. ‘The only woman in Brighton with a tan right now, that’s for sure. You still enjoying Thailand?’
Imogen still found it difficult to reconcile Jess, the gothy teenager glued at the hip with Anna, and the Jess she saw now, a successful human rights lawyer, elegant in a red shift dress. Of course the biggest difference of all was that now Jess and Anna were older, Imogen was actually allowed to hang out with them.
‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘I mean it’s been nice to see Anna and all that, but … ’
‘Not sure we’ll ever get her back,’ Anna said, with a playful sigh.
‘Listen, sorry,’ Jess said awkwardly,
Learning to Kill: Stories