What You Have To Give

5. Afterwards...

Five days after

I'm not really holding up well. It's not that I hadn't seen him for five days, but more that I would never see him again. That thought was killing me, slowly and painfully. I really should have got his number, his address, email, while I could. Why was I so embarrassed and therefore didn't? I kept on telling myself I had other opportunities, other chances. He'd be in other films. Tiny shreds of hope that I would keep on clinging onto until they all disintegrated.

This really isn't good. Anyone could see that.

Three months after

Still no sign of Tom. I'm losing all hope. I texted Terence but he deleted Tom's number. No Terence no. I thanked him anyway. I don't know what I'm going to do.

I've got another job, which is the same thing but much more horrible. I miss the hours Tom and I spent in my trailer, talking and reading, and me writing my novel. It's the only thing in my life that is going well at the moment. I spend way too many sleepless nights sitting in bed thinking about the novel, and him though I won't admit it. Everyone thinks I'm going insane, and I'm starting to think that myself.

One year after

This is the end of my story. No Tom. I'm never going to see him again.

One year, five months, three weeks and four days after

I got up this morning and brushed my teeth, humming softly. Three weeks before I had finished my story, and was still buzzing from it. I walked out of the house in confusingly high spirits on my way to the tube station. My music was on shuffle, and currently it was Mumford and Sons' The Cave. That's good. I liked that song.

It was a typical morning. I was taking a break from clapper-boarding, and was working in a small café a few miles away. I walked along, looking around. It was sunny but cold (British weather). I beeped my oyster card through the gates and scanned my eyes up and down the platform. Another song had come on shuffle. Oh shit. It was Somewhere in Neverland, the song Tom had said that reminded him of me.

I fumbled with the keys to switch it and then looked up again, looking at my fellow passengers. And then...

Oh my God.

A tall man was standing at the about twenty five yards away from me. He was wearing those sunglasses that Tom used to wear. A red plaid shirt, a black puffy coat over it. He had nice cheekbones and curly dark blonde hair.

I inched towards him slowly. It looked more and more like him the closer I got. I looked at him. "Oh my God," I said to myself. I was about a metre away from him: "Sir?" He removed his sunglasses and looked at me. YES IT WAS HIM.

I couldn't describe my emotions at that point. My mouth fell open, my face went pink. And the thing was, he hadn't seemed to have forgotten me any more than I had forgotten him. He pulled my into a squashy hug. "Kate!" he exclaimed. "Oh my God Kate Kate Kate."

I stayed in his hug longer than acceptable, my arms tight around him, never letting him go again. He smiled. My tube came and went, but I stayed tucked into his chest. "I missed you!" he said when we finally pulled apart. "I had no idea," he started, but didn't finish. I felt my face almost breaking as the corners of my lips united with my ears.

"I thought I'd lost you," I said. He didn't reply, only pulled me into another hug. And then he said the obvious: "Can I have your number?"

I nodded and read out the digits. Tom grinned: "I'll text you mine, OK?" I nodded, not able to hold back the tears I was about to cry. They flooded out. Tom immediately apologised: "I'm so sorry. Kate, are you OK?"