Ben came for his things on Thursday afternoon. Eva had agreed to the time by message because she wanted him out of the way before she went back to test Saturday's menu with Will.
He brought two shopping bags instead of a suitcase. One had a Christmas tree printed on it.
“Optimistic,” Eva said.
He looked down. “It was the big one.”
She let him in and went to the kitchen. She had put his spare shoes, the bathroom things and the jumper from behind the sofa beside the bedroom door. She hadn't been able to face sorting his tools; he knew where they were.
He came through carrying a pair of old slippers.
“Found the beasts.”
She looked at the slippers. They were enormous, grey and collapsing. Ben had once put googly eyes on them and left them staring at her from the hall. She had called them the beasts ever since.
“They're not going on the bag of clothes,” she said.
“They've got rights.”
“They've got organisms.”
He laughed. Eva did too, before she remembered not to, and his whole face changed. She had missed that face for four days. Four days felt like a long time and no time at all.
“I miss this,” he said.
Eva picked up the cloth beside the sink.
“Slipper abuse?”
“You.”
She wiped a clean patch of worktop.
“Don't.”
“I've been thinking.”
“Have you?”
“We might have gone too fast.”
She stopped wiping.
The flat looked so much more like itself with him in it. His bag on the chair. His shoulder against the doorframe. His mouth about to say something she could probably finish for him.
“Fast doing what?”
“Everything.”
“You leaving. Or me kissing Will.”
He looked at her. “So you are together.”
“I kissed him.”
“I saw enough.”
“Then why are you asking?”
He walked to the window. She used to press the back of her hand against his neck when he stood there, taking out cups and spoons round him. She wanted to do it now. Her hand was wet from the cloth.
“Will's wanted you for years,” Ben said.
“I know.”
“He'd give you an easy life. You wouldn't have to work so much.”
“I'm not stopping work.”
“I didn't say stopping.”
“Less, then. You keep saying things about my work as if somebody's decided it.”
“It's just what I thought.”
“Well, don't.”
He turned back. “I didn't come to fight.”
“You came for the beasts.”
His mouth twitched. She hated how close she was to smiling back.
“We could have dinner,” he said. “Talk without all the others there.”
Eva looked at his Christmas bag. A sock had fallen halfway out. He had forgotten to pick up the toothpaste she had left for him.
She could say yes. They could eat in their kitchen and laugh about something stupid. He could lean against her while she washed up. She could have one evening in which she didn't feel like the last person to find out about her own life.
“Have you ended it with Nora?” she asked.
Ben looked away.
“It's not that simple.”
“Are you still staying with her?”
“Yes.”
Eva folded the cloth over the edge of the sink. Carefully, because her hands wanted to do something much less careful.
“Then we're not having dinner.”
“I didn't say I was moving back in.”
“I know. That's why we're not having dinner.”
He put the slippers into the bag. She heard one hit the floor through a hole in the bottom. He picked it up without making a joke.
“I've got to go to work,” she said.
“Right.”
She helped him move the bags to the front door. He carried the tools out first, then the clothes. On the last trip she handed him the toothpaste.
He looked at it for a moment. “Thanks.”
“We need to arrange the key.”
“I'll message.”
“Please do.”
She closed the door before he reached the stairs.
His laugh had left her wanting something. Not an answer from him. Just to sit down in a room where somebody knew all the names of the ugly objects.
She sat for five minutes. Then she picked up her bag and went to The Lantern.