He’s silent for a moment, thinking. ‘So in a way, it’s been a prison, not a blessing?’
She starts, as though this is the first time she’s ever thought of it. ‘Well. God… Stupid, isn’t it?’
Hossein shrugs. ‘Most of us are. It’s human nature, to stay. Change frightens us because we don’t know what will happen. You see it all the time in countries that are being held hostage as much as people. Most people have to get to a point where they don’t have a choice before they’ll change something. I read once that we’re more afraid of change than we are of death, and I can believe it.’
She looks at him shyly, this man who’s crossed the world. ‘Where would you be, if you had a choice?’
He sighs. ‘I’m tired, Vesta. Tired of being sad, tired of being afraid for the future, tired of waiting to know what’s going to happen next. It’s not a place I want particularly. It’s just peace. Peace and quiet and a tomorrow I can predict. It’ll be good when I get my residency and I can go back to work. Work’s good for the soul.’
‘That’s all I’ve had,’ she says. ‘At least, that’s what I thought I had. And I know what you mean. I’ve felt sort of… pointless since I retired.’
‘And you? If you had a choice, if you could go anywhere? Be anywhere?’
‘Oh, that’s easy. Ilfracombe. I’d be off to Ilfracombe like a shot.’
‘Vesta? Hello?’
Collette’s voice, coming from the flat. They sit forward and peer towards the house. ‘In the garden,’ calls Vesta.
She appears at the kitchen door: wearing a jacket and jeans, sports bag over her shoulder. ‘Your door was open,’ she says. ‘Sorry.’
‘That’s okay,’ says Vesta. Strangely, her home invasions have made her more, rather than less, careless about security. She no longer feels there’s much point, when people seem to come in with such ease anyway. ‘What can I do for you?’
She comes up the steps and they see that she’s got biker boots on. Full armour, ready for flight. She arrives on the lawn and drops her bag on the straw-dry grass in front of them. Psycho starts at the sound, and shoots off into the bushes.
‘I came to say goodbye,’ she says, and they see that her eyes are red from crying. ‘I’m off.’
‘Off?’
Collette nods and looks away. ‘Can you say goodbye to Cher for me? I can’t find anyone and I want to get moving.’
Hossein jumps to his feet. ‘No,’ he says. ‘You can’t!’
Vesta sees the blush that rises to her cheek, the refusal to meet his eye. Oh, look, she really likes him, she thinks. I hadn’t realised that he liked her, though. How blind can you be?
‘What’s wrong, love?’
She hesitates and eyes Hossein, clearly unsure how much to say. Eventually, she just forces a gay little laugh out and goes: ‘Oh, nothing. You know me. Always on the move.’
‘Where are you going?’
Again, the hesitation. ‘Oh, you know,’ she says, eventually. ‘I thought I’d just go up to Victoria and see what’s on offer.’
‘You’re going away away? What about your mum? Collette, has something happened?’
‘Oh, look,’ says Collette, ‘it’s not like she’s got the first idea who I am. She won’t miss me. I’d sort of made my mind up to go when – you know –’ she gestures towards the empty shed ‘– everything happened. But now… itchy feet, you know? What can you do?’
Something’s happened, that much is obvious. Collette looks like she’s seen a ghost. Like her ghosts might be catching up with her. ‘It’s almost dinnertime,’ she says. ‘Where are you going to go?’
Collette lets out a sigh. ‘Transport runs most of the night,’ she says. ‘Might as well sleep on a bus and get a head start.’
‘I thought,’ says Hossein, ‘we were all going to sit tight for a bit.’
‘Yeah, well,’ says Collette. ‘Nobody actually knows I was here, do they? It won’t make a lot of difference if I bugger off again.’
‘Collette, has something happened?’ asks Vesta. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No,’ says Collette. ‘I just fancy a change of scene.’
‘Is it your old boss?’ asks Hossein. ‘Has he found you?’ And the bravado goes out of her like the air from a pricked balloon and she turns to Vesta, shocked.
‘You told him.’
‘Yes. I did.’
‘Jesus,’ says Collette, and drops down on the grass beside her bag. ‘So much for secrets.’