Neverending

33

I'm happy to see another familiar face, even it's one I don't know very well. As always, I'm extra aware of Donna's behaviour around Jim. As much as she denies it, Seb and I are almost one hundred percent sure there's a history there. To see Donna anything less than stoic and self-assured it quite a novelty for us: being on alert for any possible hints at a backstory has become second nature. Years of detective work have amounted to very little but it's a game that continues to amuse me and Seb whilst mildly exasperating Donna, to our delight.

Still, I have more important things to focus on right now.

I return Jim's embrace then smile as he gives me the up and down.

'You're alright then? Made it out of the apocalypse alive, eh?' Jim laughs a lot at his own, slightly borderline joke. He pats me, hard, on the arm. 'It's good to see you, too.'

I pause. I'm not quite sure how to a verbal thank you will stack up against what is essentially the lifeline that Jim has thrown my way. I'm very aware I've got a seat at the table based purely on the merit of being an old friend's sort-of son. I also don't know Jim well enough to feel completely comfortable with being open with my feelings. It's an awkward cornucopia of emotions.

Donna saves me. 'Jim - we were just thinking about stopping for drink. Have you got time to walk with us?'

'I do and I'd be glad to. A clear barley would go down very well indeed.'

We all continue towards the low-profile cluster of buildings set back a little from the central pavilion. Jim fills us in on life here, laughing about things we shouldn't do but have probably already done. It actually feels as close to normal as I've come in the last couple of days and I take a long moment to appreciate this. I feel a fleeting something when I realise that normal has become something to crave and to aspire to. Normal used to feel a little dull at times. But upheaval has displaced my routine to the point of the very real possibility I might never be going home.

Donna eyes me and, not for the first time, I'm alarmed at her near-psychic ability to sense what I'm thinking. She winks at me – her way of reassuring me – and I remind myself to try to just take things as they come, for the moment.

I let myself get buoyed up on the lighter feeling of idle chat between friends and family again. I try to stay in the moment, all the while desperately looking for an opportunity to speak to my wristband without appearing bad mannered and ungrateful. Sometimes, you have to choose your moments.  This is one of those times.

We arrive at Rinse and what I'm guessing passes for a social space here in abstemious Terrafirme. It's not that I'm a huge fan of alcarelle – and ethanol's almost unheard of commercially – but it's widely known that semi and low aren't tolerated here. I join Donna at a table near the window as Jim hustles over to the bar.

'Fancy,' Donna observes.

I look around, finding the concrete and copper interior quite pleasing. I spot the bathrooms and make my excuses.

I'm getting used to things being a little cryptic at Terrafirme but I'm hoping for a reasonably straightforward experience, at least in here.  I'm relieved to see regular bathrooms.  I squeeze myself into a cubicle for privacy.

Bringing my wristband closer to my mouth, I keep my voice low. 'What were you going to tell me about Juliette?'

'Juliette was in the Library today.'

I stop dead.

'The Library here? In Citivas?'

'Yes, Tinder. 0.8 kilometers from your current location.'