Iris sent messages for the first few days. Short ones, then long ones, then a picture of their old orange mug beside the kitchen window.
Nell didn't answer the picture.
When Iris asked to meet, Nell wrote, No. Please stop asking.
The next morning Iris wrote, I still have my flat key. Can I bring it round?
Nell read the message standing in the kitchen. Iris's key had a blue plastic tag, so they could tell it apart from the bakery key when both were on the table. It would still open this door.
Leave it with Tess at the salon, Nell answered.
Iris didn't reply. In the afternoon Tess called.
“She dropped it off,” she said. “Just handed it over. Didn't ask when you'd be there or anything.”
That evening Tess put the key on Nell's table. No note. No little bag of something Nell liked. Nell took it and put it in the drawer with her spare things.
Two days later Iris sent another message.
I want to send the half. I'll need somewhere to send it. Nothing else. You haven't got to see me.
Nell sat on the edge of her bed, holding the phone in both hands.
She read it three times. Then she called Tess.
“What does she want?” Tess asked.
“She says nothing.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I don't know.”
“Ask.”
Nell looked at the message again. She'd imagined Iris giving her the money back when they still lived together, Iris grumbling and Nell being furious until the first joke. She'd imagined telling Sam and having him lift her off the floor. Those versions were gone.
She typed, I'm not meeting you. I'm not coming to the house. I'm not taking the room or another job.
Iris answered, I understand.
Nell added, And I'm not promising to keep quiet.
The reply took longer this time.
It isn't for that.
Nell set the phone on the bed. Outside, her neighbor was dragging a wheeled bin along the pavement. The sound went on and on, ordinary and irritating.
She wasn't going to refuse the money so Iris could keep all of it.
Nell supplied what was needed for the transfer. Then she went to work.
She sold bread, counted change, burnt her finger on a tray somebody had left too close to the counter. At home she put cold water on it and waited.
The payment didn't turn up that evening. Nell checked again the next morning, then stopped herself checking during her shift. Nothing was bought. No trip was booked. It wasn't money she could use until it actually was.
When her bank confirmed the payment had cleared and was available, she was wearing her old pajamas with one knee tucked up on the chair. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
She looked around the kitchen. There was nobody to tell.
After a while she sent Iris a message.
It's there.
Iris answered, Thank you for letting me know.
Nell waited. Another bubble appeared, then disappeared. She watched until the screen dimmed.
No request followed.
She put her phone down. For a minute she cried as hard as she had on the front step. The number hadn't made her stupid for trusting Jonah. It hadn't made Iris less real. It hadn't bought back the kitchen with two potatoes and a radio where this whole thing began.
Then she got up and called Tess.
Her sister came round after work. She looked at the amount, took the phone, looked again, and put it on the table.
“Right,” Tess said. “Don't let me near it. I'll buy six stupid things before we've had dinner.”
Nell laughed. It surprised her.
“What are you doing first?” Tess asked.
“A coat.”
“Good.”
“Not that one.” Iris had collected the blue coat with the last of her things.
“Then another one.”
Tess stood up and pulled her jacket back on. “Come on. Shops are still open.”
Nell looked at her work shoes by the door. She could replace those too. She could pay the next bill without borrowing anything. She could make a choice and not explain it to Iris first.
She put on the old coat one last time.
They went to a shop near the bus station. Nell tried on a green coat with deep pockets. Tess didn't like the length. Nell did. She bought it.
At home she hung it on the hook by the door and took a picture for herself.
That night she took the napkin out of her bag. Sam's ridiculous drawing had gone soft at the folds. She spread it on the table and smoothed it flat.
Northbay wasn't happening. Not this summer, not with that drawing on a counter. Nell put it between the pages of the recipe book instead of tearing it up.
Then she looked up Calder.
She found a street she'd walked down on her old trip. A café she'd stood outside before going to catch the bus home. She could go back. She could walk past it without holding her phone against her face, waiting for a stranger to answer.
Not tonight. She was tired, and she wanted time to choose where she'd stay and what she would do.
She closed the browser, turned off the kitchen light, and went to bed.