The shop had every kind of clip except the ones Lena wanted.
She stood between a rack of batteries and a display of paintbrushes, showing the packet to the man behind the counter. He took off his glasses to read it, put them back on and said he had wire. Lena bought a small roll and a bag of wooden pegs, because Bea might like the pegs more once she'd seen them.
Kit picked up a pack of rubber doorstops.
'Wedding gift,' he said.
'Useful.'
'A lasting symbol of their commitment to fresh air.'
'Bea will think you mean her house smells.'
He returned them to the hook. 'I can't risk it.'
Outside, he took the bag from her without making a fuss. She let him have it. The streets behind the hotel were narrow, with little shops fitted into houses and a bakery whose window had steamed over. A radio played through an open upstairs window. Kit looked up, recognising the music.
'Your washing-up song,' he said.
'It was never my washing-up song.'
'You played it for two months straight.'
'Because you complained about it.'
'What a happy system we had.'
She laughed, though it caught slightly in her chest.
He slowed beside an alley leading down towards the sea. 'Five minutes?'
'We've got to take this back.'
'We will. I don't want to stand in the lobby waiting for the next instruction.'
Neither did she. She followed him down the passage.
At the bottom, the promenade widened around a bandstand. No one was playing. A cleaner swept cigarette ends from beneath the benches. Kit led her past it, to the sea wall where the noise of the water covered the road.
He set the shop bag between them.
'Did he know it was coming?' he asked.
'No.'
'How did he take it?'
'Badly. He's bought a ring.'
Kit looked at her. She had not meant to say that, but it was true and he had asked.
'For this weekend?'
'Yes. I found it yesterday.'
He turned towards the sea, his jaw working. 'Jesus.'
'It's stopped. He's stopped the plan.'
'And you're still sharing a room?'
'There's a sofa.'
He ran a hand along the wall. 'You could have asked me.'
'For what?'
'A lift. Anything.'
'I haven't decided how I'm getting home.'
'You came in his car.'
'I know how I got here, Kit.'
He stopped. 'All right.'
She had snapped because he was pleased. Not visibly, not enough for her to accuse him. But the attention had sharpened. He had set the bag down and turned his whole body towards her. She was free now, almost, and he could see it.
The cleaner wheeled her bin away. A gull walked sideways along the bandstand roof, its feet making little scrapes on the metal.
Lena nodded at it. 'The new conductor.'
Kit glanced up. 'No. Retired conductor. Furious about changes to the programme.'
'He's been replaced by a pigeon with no training.'
Kit bent, lowering his face to make a close shot with his hands. 'A career in ruins. A city without hope.'
'One bird dares to whistle.'
He grinned. 'We need the low note. The one you do.'
'I'm not doing the low note.'
'It doesn't work without the low note.'
She tried it. It came out rough, halfway between a foghorn and a cough. Kit laughed so loudly the gull flew away.
'You've lost it,' he said.
'I was never good.'
'You were terrible. It was magnificent.'
She pushed his shoulder. He caught her hand before she could withdraw it.
Neither of them spoke.
It wasn't much of a hold. His fingers lay over hers, not gripping. She could pull away. She knew the shape of his nails, the small callus on his thumb. Four years had passed and her body recognised him with an ease she couldn't make sensible.
'I missed this,' she said.
'Yes.'
He didn't dress it up. She looked at his mouth, then at the water.
'Why did we make everything so hard?'
Kit let her hand go. 'It wasn't all hard.'
'It was at the end.'
He nodded. 'You wouldn't come.'
'I had work.'
'So did I.'
The words sat there, the same ones they'd used yesterday. She bent to pick up the shop bag, but he kept speaking.
'I thought we'd make it work if we were in the same place.'
'By me leaving everything.'
'Not everything.'
'My job. My friends. The flat. You didn't even ask before you took the contract.'
'I had to answer them.'
'And then you asked me to fit.'
He looked down at the bag. 'I did ask.'
'Afterwards.'
She wished they had kept talking about the bird. In the game they were good together. They could build a whole terrible film out of a pavement and a bag of pegs. In this conversation, they both became people with folded arms.
'I shouldn't have acted like it was obvious,' he said.
It surprised her. She looked up.
He shrugged, uncomfortable. 'But you wouldn't even try a visit at the end. You said if I went, I was choosing the job over you.'
She remembered saying it. She had meant to make him understand how much he was asking her to lose. He had heard an order to stay.
'I thought if you loved me you wouldn't go,' she said.
'Well. I went. I still loved you.'
Her chest hurt. He said it looking at the sea, as if he could bear it better that way.
She put the bag back down.
'Kit.'
He turned. She moved closer, one hand on the front of his jacket. She could feel his breath against her cheek. She had wanted this all yesterday and all the years in which wanting it had been ridiculous.
She lifted her face to kiss him.
His mouth nearly met hers. Then his hand came between them, lightly against her shoulder.
'Lena. Wait.'
She stopped. Her hand was still on his jacket.
'Nia,' he said.
The name landed in the tiny space between their faces. Lena stepped back.
'You said you weren't exclusive.'
'I know what I said.' He rubbed his forehead. 'She's here with me. She's upstairs getting ready for a wedding she doesn't know anyone at. I can't do this behind her back.'
Lena released his jacket. The fabric had wrinkled where she'd held it.
'Right. Sorry.'
He stared down at the ground. 'I wanted to. I wasn't standing here talking to you because I needed some wire.'
She didn't know what to do with that either. It should have made her feel better. It didn't.
'I'm going to tell her,' he said.
'What?'
'That this happened. That I wanted it. I owe her that much.'
She picked up the bag properly this time. 'I'll come back on my own.'
'You don't have to.'
'I know. I want to.'
Kit hesitated. He could have reached for her again; she would probably have let him. Instead he walked up the steps towards the alley, leaving her by the wall.
She waited until he was out of sight. Then she looked inside the bag, as if checking that the wire and pegs were still there might help. Two simple things, bought for an ordinary errand. She folded the top and held it in both hands on the walk back.