I'm fine
No really.
Really really!
I'm not being aggressive.
NO, I'm NOT!
I am NOT shouting.
I'm perfectly Ok. O… K…
I'm Fiiiiiinnnnneeee.
Yes
Yes
No, it's not…
No
NO!
Look. I'm fine, Oh…Kay! It's all good. Absolutely great.
Best ever. Brilliant. Bendi (bloody) gedig!
No, I'm not swearing now. That's Welsh.
No not the middle.
Yes, I know 'bloody' is a swear word. Oh God!
I am really, Really, REALLY Ok.
Yes.
Yes , really.
Yes, he was. I know that now
…
Ok… maybe I'm not…
It wasn’t a specific look, or anything she said exactly. It was the things she didn’t do that gave it away. The way that she didn’t automatically include me in the conversation, the way she didn’t look to me when something funny happened, the way she didn’t move up to get more space but stayed, leg pressed against mine, reminding me that she was there.
All the instincts we’d developed about one another over the many years we had been friends were now kicking into gear and compensating for all the things we couldn’t say, not with all these people...