They had been watching the sky all day. There was nothing else to do, and they had no strength to do it with. They only moved to brush the dust from their eyes. Slowly, the last wisp of cloud dissolved into the searing blue.

She had turned the house upside down looking for a pound coin, but when she slipped in to leave it under the pillow, the tooth fairy was already there. He was peering at the tooth through an enamelled loupe, and he wore a hi-vis tabard, which she thought seemed unwise. “Sorry,” she whispered, “I thought you were pretend. I thought I was meant to do it.” He shook his head. “They don’t tell you lot anything these days, do they?” He scribbled something on his clipboard, handed her the counterfoil, and twinkled out of existence. He had left an Amazon gift card under the pillow. She swapped it for the coin.

but somehow there was never time to pick the apples, or even to collect the ones the wind picked for them, there was only time to look through the window at them rotting and say, never mind, no use crying, those apples never taste good anyway

It was only after the interview, looking in the mirror in the lift, that he noticed the chocolate around his mouth. How had he not seen it on the way in? How had Rob not seen it in the café? A slice of chocolate cake, to calm the nerves. And it had, though clearly they both still had their preoccpations. He rubbed at it with a tissue, but it was dried on, and too late. He got the job, and they made fun of him about it every day.

From up here, you can look out over the ocean and see the curve of the earth. It is curving the wrong way, up at the edges, like a slight smile. That is bad, but this is worse: with the world curving that way, instead of the horizon you should see the water continuing, up and over. You can’t get the shape of it to make sense in your head. But this is worst of all: nobody else up here seems to have noticed.

She had always wanted to paint, and so she started, knifing thick colour where the world looked grey and blending watercolour gradients where it looked hard. She gained varicoloured footprints, bright pigment spilling from the soles of her feet. An impasto trail followed her: there was no hiding anymore, except by going everywhere so that the whole world was in her colours. She only stopped for the sunset.

“You hungry?” We had put half a dozen eggs in the tank of the wallpaper stripper, so by the time we needed a break they would be properly hard boiled. (The top wasn’t supposed to come off the tank, but since we had already bought the eggs and we had nothing else to eat, we forced it with a screwdriver. Now a little steam leaked out the side, but it wasn’t so bad if you didn’t walk past it.) She nodded, and I clicked the switch off at the wall. There was kind of a musty smell when we popped the tank open, but neither of us wanted to be the one to chicken out. Afterwards, we couldn’t get the top back on.

If I stand on the stool and stretch my neck up, then through the window and across the rooftops I can see a building with old windows that still open. And on a clear day, if one particular window on the top floor is opened at just the right angle, and the sun is shining in just the right place, I can make out the hazy reflection of a tree. One day, I will sit under that tree and eat strawberries. Knowing that is enough.

We called it the Dutchman’s Gambit, because we thought it sounded funny, and because Andi was pretty sure that the Frenchman’s Gambit was already a thing, so we couldn’t call it that. We got a lot off free drinks out of it, and best of all, it wasn’t quite illegal. Even the letter in the local paper warning about it admitted that. They didn’t get everything right, though. They called it the Flemish Swindle, for a start.

There were crumbs in the butter. Crumbs and a great big knife mark, under the foil seal, like someone got hungry in the factory. It was Jethro, I knew. He would have brought his own toast and his kid’s glue stick when he let himself into my house with the key I gave him for emergencies. Jethro’s jokes were the kind that are harmless as long as you don’t already think you’re going mad. So I sent a photo to the local paper, and when they ran the story a week later I clipped it out and posted it to him and waited. It was his wife who rang. She asked why I sent it, and if I’d seen him. He hadn’t been home for a month.

By the time the pizzas arrived everyone had already left. I was feeling pretty sick about the way the party had ended so I ate one in about three minutes. Then I was feeling pretty sick about the way I ate it, so I put the rest in the outside bin. Then I felt pretty sick about wasting them, so I got them out again. I sat and looked at the stack of greasy boxes, and I realised there wasn’t a thing I could do with them that I would be happy about.

We thought coordinating plans would be too fussy, so in the end, everyone brought chilli to the bring-and-share lunch. Kat ran off some voting slips and we turned it into a competition, and everyone said we should do it again next year. It became the way we all knew autumn had arrived, and that we could stand the longer nights. Until one year Alex hired a private chef, and it all blew up. I often wonder what they’re all doing now. I often think I should invite them all round for a bring-and-share lunch.

She had the idea of shaving him for their wedding. A proper shave, with hot towels and a straight razor. She practiced for months, scraping suds from balloons without bursting. She learned to hone and strop, and sure enough, the edge was sharp enough that neither of them felt his skin open. Now there was blood on his collar, and all the guests could see she didn’t know his face like she thought she did.

After what happened, he couldn’t even look at pliers. He squeezed with his fingers until the skin tore, bit with his jaws until the teeth chipped. At times he made do with blunt scissors or adjustable spanners. But now the pliers were in his hand, they felt just right. He saw the way they focused his grip, pointed and powerful. His grip, now. That made all the difference.