Emma looked out from under the shelter of the bus stop, her face shrouded by smoke as she lifted the cigarette from her lips and the glow of its tip gently faded. The smoke blew up around her and swirled away into the night. Rain fell into the dark street so hard and fast, and as she watched it she felt as if the rain was falling in another world, so far away from the dry stillness she resided in. And so she stood, looking out into the road, her heart racing at each sight of a car’s approaching headlights. But so far there was no sign of the car she was waiting for. He had told her that she should look for a silver Escort, “R reg” he had said. He had bought a new car for the occasion, using a false name and address. He had driven all the way to Newcastle and paid for it in cash. He had everything covered, he had said, he wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. So each time a car came past she squinted in the dark trying to make out the first letter of its registration...

A long time ago, before I lost you for the last time , I used to mend your clothes. You became so attached to the things that you l oved . S o, l ike most of the things you owned then, your clothes were worn, not through age but constant use. I had always been very practical in my approach towards life, so when I saw them hanging up in your wardrobe the day you came to stay at home, it was a very natural reaction to want to fix them and make them new again. I started right away, concentrating on just a few items : your jack et, your jeans. You seemed unsure at first, I think you’d grown to like the holes and the tattered, soft edges. But my meticulous needle work paid off when I saw that the clothes I had stitched made you stand a little taller. So I continued, and it became an occupation, a distraction from the unbearable truth that I could not fix you. I suppose I just wanted to do something, anything. It was my own, feeble attempt to help you in the only way I knew how. You...