Isma wasn't sure she believed him but she didn't want to fight. "Go shower," she said. "You need to get out of here."

31.

"I should have just lied to him," Isma said to Hanna at her house. Hanna had invited her to come and take a look at two paintings of Nqobile's that she had bought from an art gallery in Edinburgh. "I should have pretended that it was some big epic love from the beginning."

"You wouldn't have hated that?" Hanna said.

"I really wouldn't have. I don't have any qualms about lying. I can do it well. I can cry at will, hesitate, and do whatever else it takes to sell it."

"He would have known. On some level he would have known."

"That's what people always say. I never knew with Paul. I believed every word the b.a.s.t.a.r.d said."

"Are you going to contact him, before the end?"

Isma shook her head. "No. Maybe. I want to...I just..."

"You don't want to hurt Timothy."

"That's not it. Nothing I could do can hurt Timothy. He does that all by himself. He loves torturing himself. I'm just an excuse."

"Then why don't you want to see Paul?"

"He left me when I needed him most."

"Pride aside, you want to see him. You should or you'll regret it. When you die, wouldn't it be great to have no regrets?"

"Don't be all worldly wise earth-mother all of a sudden. It doesn't suit you."

One of Nqobile's paintings was of a robotic fisherman seated by a riverside. In the water, a strange three-eyed creature was approaching the hook. The other was a self-portrait, but she had given herself purple skin.

25.

"h.e.l.lo. This is Paul Durocher. Who's calling?h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?"

22.

They had spent the day at the races. It was one of those things Timothy had never done. Between the two of them they'd made a list. They were ticking them off one by one. Timothy was in a tux and he was wearing a top hat, a ridiculous insistence of his. "I don't care if I look like I'm from the wrong century; I'm going to do this posh pompous a.s.s thing right no matter what you say."

Going there was fun, but the actual races were boring. Nothing about watching horses run in circles remotely exhilarated Timothy or Isma.

Afterwards, Isma gave Timothy an envelope.

"What's this?"

"You'll see."

It was a birthday card. "Today's not my birthday. We'll be dead before I turn twenty-eight."

"They didn't have a special card for what I wanted to say."

"The message?"He flipped the card open. "Happy 528. What is 528?"

"You're always saying how many days we have left. I don't think that's a healthy way of looking at it. We have 528 hours. Or if you like, on the back page I've written how much time we have in minutes. minutes."

"31680."

"Sounds like a lot of time, doesn't it."

"I guess."

10080.

"Now, now is when you call me, when I've got one week left."Isma wanted to be angrier than she was. It was good to hear Paul's voice. She'd missed his soothing baritone and his French-tinged accent. She had resigned herself to never hearing it again.

"I'm calling now. I wanted to before; I just couldn't mount up the courage."

"Lame excuse."

"How have things been?"

Isma brushed aside his attempt at small talk. "Are we going to meet?"

"Wow, that's very direct."

"The 'dying in a few days' thing omits the need for bulls.h.i.t."

"I'm out of town right now."

"Cla.s.sic. Why do I bother?"

"I'll be back next week Tuesday."

"And after all this time, you think I'd want to spend my last night with you. You're as arrogant as ever."

"I'm sorry...I just...I booked a flight to come back then because I knew it was your last day. If you don't want to see me..."

"You're a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you know. I should just tell you to f.u.c.k off. The sick thing is that, a.s.shole that you are, I want to see you before I die. Maybe just so I can stab you in the eye with a fork."

"Take it easy."

"Not my last day. I have plans. Not Monday either. I've promised that night to someone."

"Someone?"

Isma laughed. "What? You thought I'd be a celibate nun pining over you ever since you left."

"Isma, if I had stayed with you, do you really think we would have been happy?Every conversation was a fight. It would have kept going. I regret leaving all the time, but I think back and..."

"I won't have this conversation on the phone. I refuse to. Sunday. Can you make it for Sunday?"

"I can."

5760.

Isma wasn't as good a liar as she thought. Timothy knew immediately.He wasn't sure whether it was her body language or inflection, but something told him. He wanted to call her on it, remind her about the "no lying" rule, but he didn't.

She wasn't looking at him. She, the big "eye contact" lady, wasn't looking at him. "I know it's last-minute, but Hanna and I have gotten to know each other much better than I would have expected. Maybe it's because I never really knew either of my parents, but having an older woman friend-it just makes me feel something intangible. Comfort maybe, but it's more than that."

This part wasn't a lie. Timothy had noticed at the last few meetings that Isma and Hanna had become as close as family. It was just the "I'll be meeting Hanna tomorrow" part.

"I hope you don't mind," Isma said.

"Of course I don't."

Why is she lying? Maybe she's planning me a surprise?he thought suddenly. He could see that. Hanna and Isma conspiring to create something that would make him laugh until it hurt.

4320.

Nothing good could come of this, Timothy knew. Secretly following someone you were supposed to love and trust was always a stupid idea. It was like opening her diary. Whatever he read would be out of context and it would hurt no matter what it said.

He should have just told her, "I know you're lying, tell me the truth; no matter what it is." He hadn't because he knew it was something bad. In fact, he was pretty sure he knew exactly where she was headed. You're paranoid, You're paranoid, he told himself at first. Then he remembered the old joke: "Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me." he told himself at first. Then he remembered the old joke: "Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me."

He followed her through the streets, one hundred yards behind her. He was ready to duck behind something if she turned. She didn't. She was too focused on where she was going. It was too important to her. If I walked right in front of her, If I walked right in front of her, he thought, he thought, she probably wouldn't even notice me. she probably wouldn't even notice me.

She turned into Oldham Street and he dashed forward so he wouldn't lose her.

Why am I following her?he thought again. I know where she's going. I know where she's going. All pretense in his mind that he wasn't sure was gone. All pretense in his mind that he wasn't sure was gone. I know, but I'm heading after her anyway. I know, but I'm heading after her anyway.

Isma turned into a cafe and Timothy crossed the street. He knew what he would see, but he crossed anyway. Unless...maybe it would be something else?There was always the possibility that he was exactly as paranoid and childish as she said. That's why he'd followed in the end. Because there was a hairbreadth of a chance he was wrong.

He walked down the street until he was adjacent to the cafe. Isma was seated opposite a handsome, curly-haired man in a business suit. Timothy recognized him from the digital photos she had stored on her computer.

Timothy turned and walked away.

1440.

"What?You knew you were an ED when you decided to join the clergy?"

Julie's total shock made Shamus laugh. "It was one of the main reasons I joined the church."

"To make sure you go to heaven?"

"No, no, no."That was what his father had thought, too. Throwing what little life you have left away Throwing what little life you have left away, his father had accused. "Knowing I had very little time made me want to make a difference in the time I had."

"I understand that," Julie replied. "Since I started writing songs again I've been wishing more and more that I never stopped. It would've been nice to leave behind something that people could play in the future. Some sort of proof that I was alive."

Shamus nodded. "Everyone wants to leave a legacy."

The two of them were the first ones there. The bas.e.m.e.nt of the church had been freezing when they arrived, but it was heating up. The church heaters wouldn't be able to make the bas.e.m.e.nt truly warm but that's what the alcohol was for.

Benito came next, smiling like an idiot. With the exuberance of a child he told them about a woman he had met.

"Does she know?" Shamus asked.

"No."

"You should tell her. She deserves to know."

"Would you stop being a reverend for five minutes and just be a guy?"

"I'm with you," Julie said. "Better she never finds out."

"She has lovely t.i.ts," he boasted.

Krishna came in next and commented on how when he went, this is how he wanted his last night to be. "None of that New Age stuff Nqobile did. Just some friends and some laughs."

"And booze," Benito piped in. "The booze is important."

Hanna came in next and the mood changed instantly. Her pallid face screamed that something was wrong. "Have any of you seen Timothy the last two days?"

"No. Why?"

"He was meant to meet Isma yesterday. He didn't show."

Shamus clutched the crucifix dangling around his neck. "Something bad must have happened. Did you call the police?"

"Two days have to go by before you can report someone missing. And by then...he'll be dead."

They asked Raymond and Annabel when they arrived, but they hadn't seen or heard from Timothy either. Isma arrived at nine and she looked worn down. Looking at the seven of them sitting there, the last flicker of hope she had harbored faded.