‘But –’ He stopped himself mid-thought and put his tobacco back into his pocket. He tucked the cigarette behind his ear. ‘You’re not on your own.’ Max often disarmed me in seemingly unromantic conversation with these grand, surprising statements about our relationship. It felt like a test. I never knew the correct way to respond.

We staggered out of the pub with our arms around each other and spilt into the East London street, with Max promising that there was an ornately carpeted, decidedly inelegant, sweaty pub that I would love nearby with late hours and a pool table. I followed him as he took a twisting route through the streets, stopping at every corner and assessing which way to turn, like he was on a quest.

‘I used to drink here every night between the ages of twenty-seven and thirty,’ he said.

‘You between the ages of twenty-seven and thirty. I wish I could meet every single Max from every single year since birth. I want them all lined up for me.’

‘Right,’ he said, standing still in the middle of the silent, residential road, the heat of his breath forming clouds as he spoke. I imagined a furnace inside him, generating every word and thought. He took his iPhone out of his pocket and opened Maps. ‘I hate that I’m too drunk to navigate without this, but it turns out I’m too drunk to navigate without this.’

I looked around the street we found ourselves on and felt the threat of déjà vu build momentum from a distance and come towards me like a crashing wave.

‘Max. Where are we?’

‘I’m just finding out, Nina George.’

‘I think we’re near the flat.’

‘Which flat?’

‘The first flat I lived in. Are we near Mile End?’

‘Yes, the station is about ten minutes’ walk away.’

I felt myself being drawn towards one end of the road and I followed it like iron to a magnet. ‘Are we near Albyn Square?’ I asked.

‘Hang on,’ Max said as I carried on walking ahead of him. ‘Hang on.’

‘We are, I know where we are.’

I got to the end of the road, turned right, walked past the pub where Dad and I used to eat our weekend chips together and turned left on to Albyn Square. My body responded with more than my senses – I felt it in my cells. It was biological and visceral, prehistoric and predetermining. There in the middle was the garden square, perfectly kept in accordance with every angle my memory had captured. Every plant, every path and every tree looked exactly as it did since the last time I was here over twenty years ago. I walked towards the railings and looked into the garden. I wrapped my hands around the cold, shiny black metal poles and, as I looked down at them, remembered the fleecy mittens I used to wear.

‘Max, this is it,’ I said. ‘This is the square I grew up in.’ Without thinking, I put one foot on to the latitude of the railings and heaved myself up to stand on it. I jumped off the other side and stood in the garden. Max followed behind me.

‘This is where my dad and I came together every weekend. This is where I learnt to ride my bike. This is where they took me in my pram when I was a baby. This is the first place they took me to when they brought me home from the hospital.’ I pointed at the bench on the outskirts of the grass. ‘There’s a photo of me and Mum sitting there when I was a couple of days old.’ In the top right-hand corner of the square towered a tall mulberry tree. ‘That tree –’ I could sense I was garbling now, as I hurriedly walked towards it. ‘I used to sit under it. I used to pretend I was in a forest. Mum would make me sandwiches and I’d take my toys out here and play under it for hours. I fell out of it once. I had to have stitches on my knee. Maybe it wasn’t for hours. I never know if what I remember as an hour when I was a child was actually ten minutes in reality.’

‘Wow,’ Max mustered. I wouldn’t know what to say to someone being swallowed up by a vortex of nostalgia either. For Max, this was just a London square – a collection of roads, a patch of grass, a handful of street lights. For me, it was the source of my existence. I had been conceived here, carried here; learnt feelings and faces and words here.

‘I’ve just realized something,’ I said. ‘This exact tree is what taught me what the word tree is. Any time I’ve said that word, or stood by a tree, or thought of a tree since I could speak, I’ve seen this one. In the bottom of my brain, there are all these pictures of the objects that taught me what the world is. I’m not even aware they’re there, but they are. It’s like this tree is inside me, somehow.’ Max watched me place my hand on its trunk and lean closer to it. ‘Sorry, I know I’m talking total fucking bollocks.’ I touched my forehead against its bark as the branches brushed the top of my head. ‘I feel really sick.’ He put his arm around me and we walked to the bench and sat down.

I folded forward, holding my head between my knees, and Max rested his hand on my back.

‘I think my dad knows what’s happening to him.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘I can just tell. I know him better than anyone. And he knows that something is changing inside him. He knows he’s losing easy access to parts of himself and his memories. I wish I didn’t know that was the truth, but it is. I wish I could let myself believe he’s blissfully unaware, but I can’t. How awful and confusing for him, Max. He must be so scared. It must be completely unbearable.’ He ran his hand up and down my back as we sat in silence.

‘This is a beautiful place to live,’ he finally said. I sat back up and looked at the imposing row of giant doll’s houses across from us.

‘It’s perfect, isn’t it? I wonder if I knew how perfect it was when I was here.’

‘I want us to live on this square.’

‘We’re priced out. Like the rest of the world.’

‘One day,’ he said. ‘I will find a way for us to live on this square. Even if it’s just in someone’s garden shed. I can see us here.’

‘I think everyone can see themselves here,’ I said. ‘I think it’s like really attractive people – everyone thinks they belong with one. Everyone thinks the hottest person in the room is their soulmate.’

‘No, I really can see us here.’

‘Can you?’

‘Yes, Nina,’ he said. ‘I love you.’

I held his face like a Magic 8 ball. I brought it inches away from mine and peered into his eyes to try to see all the pictures of streets and squares that lived inside him.

‘I love you too,’ I said. The mulberry tree stood tall and proud against the moonlight, casting a shadow on our bodies wrapped up in each other.

8

New message from: Nina

20 November 10.04

My hero – thank you for cheering me up after such a rotten day. You left this morning before I got to lovingly force-feed you and your hangover toast. Hope your head isn’t too sore. Have a good day at work x New message from: Nina

21 November 16.27

How’s your day? X

New message from: Max

21 November 23.10

Long and cold. No worries about cheering you up, was lovely to see you as always x New message from: Nina

22 November 11.13

Just saw a seagull swallowing a dead rat whole outside Tufnell Park station. Hope your week is going well, it can’t be grimmer than that x Missed call from: Nina

25 November 19.44

New message from: Nina

25 November 19.50

Don’t worry about calling me back, wasn’t ringing about anything important, just wanted to check how you are x New message from: Max

25 November 20.16

All good this end, Nina George. Hope all’s good with you x New message from: Nina

25 November 20.35

All fine. Writing a piece about how to make perfect caponata, so I’m up to my neck in aubergine. Wanna come round and be my official taster?

New message from: Max

25 November 21.01

Wish I could but working late tonight x

New message from: Nina

25 November 21.13

Oh poor you. Hope work isn’t too hectic. Let me know when you’re free x New message from: Nina

27 November 9.07

Morning! Fancy the cinema tonight? X

New message from: Max

27 November 14.18

Would love to but have dinner plans I’m afraid.

New message from: Nina

27 November 16.05

OK – will leave it to you to let me know when you fancy hanging out. Hope things aren’t too stressful.

New message from: Nina

29 November 12.15

That weird Peruvian bar we love has started a bottomless pisco sour night. Shall we see how far we can push the limits of the deal?

New message from: Nina

1 December 11.00

Morning. Slightly feel like I’m pestering you. Totally understand if you don’t have loads of time to chat or hang out at the moment, but can you let me know that everything is OK?

Missed call from: Nina

1 December 15.02

New message from: Max

1 December 15.07

Hey – I’m at work. Are you OK?

New message from: Nina

1 December 15.10

Really not trying to distract you from work – just wanted to check you’re OK, as per my message above.

New message from: Max

1 December 18.39

Fine – things just so busy at the moment.

New message from: Nina

1 December 19.26

Is there anything I can do to help? Don’t like thinking of you stressed.

New message from: Nina