Three Men On Tour: 42

“You know it’s going to be alright, don’t you,“ said Harry soothingly as he stabbed the button for the top floor. I didn’t but I nodded anyway.

“Don’t worry,“ said Harry. “We’ll find her and this will all be sorted out before morning.“

In my head, Alicia was driving up the M3 and out of my life. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again.

I couldn’t believe I’d been so stupid. 4 years, 6 months and 5 days. Gone. Gone in a thoughtless moment and a stupid heartbeat.

We’d had our moments, Alicia and I, and most of them had been good. Summer picnics on Hampstead Heath, late night movies at the Screen on the Green, time inconsequentially passed and all the more vital for it.

We’d had our fights. I remember a virtual screaming match when we’d been out Christmas shopping and I’d left her waiting on a street corner after I lost track of time, cold and tired and arms laden with heavy bags. We’d made up later over hot chocolate and marshmallows, thawing by the fire, Alicia warming her cheek against my chest. I never told her why I was late, that I was looking for her present, examining item after item and each wasn’t quite right, wasn’t quite perfect, wasn’t quite her.

Some of the arguments were pointless: about money, or where to spend Saturday night, or if another takeaway was really going to kill me.

Some of the arguments were substantial: about work and security, about where to spend Christmas, about whether another takeaway really was going to kill me.

All these memories: I felt them fall away like the remnants of a dream. We were three floors down and Harry was taking it seriously while I drifted down the corridor past empty doors, knowing it was all pointless because Alicia was gone, gone, gone like tears in the rain.

I was still lost in indulgent contemplation when the elevator doors opened and George stepped out, looking furtively up and down the corridor for signs of life. When he saw Harry and me, he looked relieved and annoyed and hurried over to meet us.

“She’s here,“ he said simply. “The car’s in the car park. She’s still in the hotel.“

And then I thought about second chances and lost opportunities, about make up sex and break up sex, about fleeting glimpses in bars, and room numbers written on scraps of paper, and I knew, absolutely knew, where Alicia had gone.

She’s a bright girl. I don’t just love her for her looks you know.