The No-Show

by Beth O'Leary

If she’d known she was going to be stood up on Valentine’s Day, she’d have got proper milk. Siobhan is only vegan when she’s in a good mood.

It’s one of those feelings, happiness. One of the ones you don’t really notice is gone until it comes back.

A friend doesn’t need the whole of you. If you don’t want to tell me about your life before we met, I don’t give a toss – I’m in it for the Jane that’s here and now, aren’t I? I take you as you come. But if I loved you, I’d want everything. Wouldn’t I? Don’t you want all of him? All his secrets? All the versions of Joseph that exist out there, all the people he is when he’s at work and with his mother and with the lads at the pub?’

There is a pause. A gaggle of teenagers push past, mid heated discussion about Kanye West; a toddler wails, hands up in the air, and is scooped up into his dad’s arms. ‘Jingle Bells’ blares out from a boutique selling handbags a few paces ahead of them. The absence of an invitation to this amazing New Year’s Eve party is deafening, louder than all of these things, and Siobhan smiles wryly down at her feet. A useful reminder not to get too carried away. After all, they’re just friends.

Siobhan’s story was cut short so soon. Miranda tightens her arms around AJ and leans her head against his chest, and she feels impossibly fortunate. No more prevaricating or overthinking. From now on, when good things come, Miranda Rosso will grab hold of them and not let go.

‘I won’t be perfect,’ Joseph says, and there are tears in his eyes now. ‘Joseph, stop,’ Jane says, and suddenly they’re closer, thigh to thigh, both hands twining together. ‘I don’t want you to be perfect. Why would I want that? I want you. I want all the parts of you, the broken ones, the ones you’ve kept hidden away.’ She untangles one hand from his and lifts it to his cheek, and his eyes snap to hers, full of hope. ‘That’s love, isn’t it?’ she whispers. ‘Or that’s how I love you, anyway. I’m greedy. I want all of you.’

‘I want to bring you coffee with cream in bed every morning, and I want to make you laugh, really belly-laugh the way you hardly ever do, and I want to read books and eat cinnamon buns and know what outfit you like to wear on a Sunday. I want to be part of your routine. I want to stand next to you in a crowded party and hold your hand tight and make you feel safe. I want to know you, all your habits, all the secrets you’ve held in. You’re not on your own now, Jane. You’ve got me. Always.’

‘Gone but never forgotten, right?’ Fiona says. ‘Absolutely,’ Joseph says, because that’s important – always important when you lose someone, but especially for Siobhan. It had always seemed cruel that a woman who was so afraid of being left behind had to be consigned to the past. Siobhan had so badly wanted to live; she’d wanted to be seen and felt and heard. And now she was gone. But never forgotten.