I woke up the next morning full of regret. This was due to the fact that I’d stayed up half the night polishing off that bottle of wine and looking through old photos of Mark and me. I used to be into keeping albums, but ever since he passed I’d barely taken any pictures. It was like that part of me died with him, the part that wanted to store precious memories.
Some days I wished so hard for him to still be here, so hard that my entire body hurt. My throat felt like a lump of raw, abused meat and my stomach constantly ached.
Yesterday was one of those days, and it was the reason I arrived at work ten minutes late with a hangover and blotchy eyes from crying myself to sleep. Usually, if I could keep my mind focused on every day, practical things, I could avoid feeling this way. Unfortunately, yesterday and last night had been all kinds of crazytown and I lost the run of my emotions.
“You’re looking a little worse for wear, Miss Anderson,” Mary commented with a grin. “Late night, was it?”
I knew she meant well, thinking I’d been out enjoying myself. Little did she know, it had been a party of misery and loneliness for one. Plastering on a brave face, I replied kindly, “Something like that.”
Mary winked at me and I continued inside the classroom, stumbling and almost falling over my own feet when I saw Stu in his usual seat. He turned and caught me by the elbow, preventing my fall. His touch brought on the usual tingles and his eyes shone with concern but I was having none of it. What the hell was he even doing here? Now that his true intentions had been revealed, I didn’t think he’d continue attending class. And to think I’d introduced him to my dad for his insight.
I just didn’t see what he thought his being here was going to achieve. Perhaps he simply wanted to prolong my discomfort.
“I take it you all finished the final chapters of Jude last night?” I said, clearing my throat as I opened my laptop. I strongly suspected that Stu hadn’t read a single page, which was sort of the reason I’d said it. Maybe I was being mean-spirited, but I thought he deserved a little discomfort, too. Most of the class called out that they’d finished but Stu remained silent. I addressed him directly.
“Stu, I know you started late, but did you get a chance to fit the book into your busy schedule?”
Yes, I said the last part with a hint of cynicism, but it couldn’t be helped. I was wounded and needed to reassert myself. Stu stared at his desk then brought his dark gaze to mine, scratching his head self-consciously. A pang hit me right in the chest and I instantly felt bad for putting him on the spot. Of course he hadn’t read it. It was a four-hundred-page book and he had difficulty with reading and writing. I was an awful person.
“Yes, I, uh, I did, actually,” he said, surprising the hell out of me. So much so my mouth fell open, my disbelief written all over my face.
“You did?” I asked.
He ducked his head, his voice going quiet. “Took me longer than most, I’m sure, but Lee’s been helping me with my reading.”
My heart pounded, because even though I was still angry with him, the idea of him going out of his way to read the book, to get help from his brother, was just too admirable. Why couldn’t he be horrible and let me enjoy hating him for a while?
“And did you enjoy it?” I went on, trying not to let my voice convey how touched I was.
“I’m not sure if ‘enjoy’ is the right word, Miss Anderson, but I definitely felt like it made me see things differently. Guess I could relate to the whole being dirt-poor thing. Actually, there was a lot I could relate to.”
“Really?” I went on, curious. “What else?”
Stu glanced around the room, then shot me a look as if to ask, why aren’t you asking anybody else questions? The answer was rather simple, really. I wasn’t asking anyone else, because in spite of all the reasons he shouldn’t, Stu fascinated me.
“You have the whole Christminster thing. That’s supposed to be Oxford or Cambridge or something, right?”
I nodded and gestured for him to continue.
“Well, I feel like to Jude, Christminster represents everything that’s good. It’s his goal to get there and become a student, but he’s so far away from it, it almost feels impossible. I think we all have a Christminster, this thing we want more than anything else, and it’s what keeps us moving forward. If we didn’t have that, a goal, a dream, there’d be no point to keep going. Because who wants to work their fingers to the bone for minimum wage day in and day out without something to look forward to? If we knew for definite that we weren’t going to get to Christminster, then we’d all just give up.”
I stared at him, taken aback by his words and how deeply he’d thought about this. And considering the difficulty Stu had with this area of his learning, what he’d just come out with felt like a real breakthrough. I smiled at him, my disgruntlement momentarily forgotten. As a teacher, these were the sorts of moments I lived for.
“You’re right. That’s a fantastic point, Stu,” I said and turned to the rest of the class. “Now, would anyone else like to contribute?”
For the rest of the day Stu didn’t approach me. He didn’t stick around at lunch and he didn’t try to provoke me in class. In fact, he was acting like he genuinely wanted to be there, and I wondered if his continued attendance had something to do with the robbery. But then, how could it?
I was busy correcting papers when the final bell of the day rang and everybody started getting up to leave. After a few minutes the room fell quiet and I thought they’d all gone, which was the reason I let out a startled yelp when Stu suddenly spoke.
“Andrea.”
“For crying out loud, Stu,” I said, clutching my hand to my chest. “You frightened the life out of me.”
His lips twitched and it looked like he was trying to hold in his laughter. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. What do you need?”
Now his expression grew serious. “I wanted to talk.”
“About?”
“About us.”
I swallowed, returning my attention to the papers I was correcting. I made sure to put as much dismissal into my voice as possible. “There is no us, Stu.”
“That’s bullshit, Andrea.”
I blinked at him. “I think you’ll find it isn’t. And don’t talk to me like that. I’m your teacher.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you’re bothered. Susan swears in class all the time and you never give her stick for it.”
“It’s the spirit in which it’s done, Stu. When Susan swears it’s good-natured. When you swear it’s aggressive.”
“That’s only because you frustrate me.”
At this I slammed my hand down on the desk. “I frustrate you? That’s a laugh. You’re the most frustrating person I know.”
“For God’s sake, what do you want from me? I told you I’m sorry. I even read that bloody book for you even though it took me forever. I’m really trying here.”
“That’s what I don’t get. Why are you trying? Why are you even still attending class? You said yourself the only reason you enrolled in the first place was to get to me to get to Alfie. Well, mission accomplished. Your presence is no longer necessary.”
His expression wavered ever so slightly, almost like my words hit a sore spot, and I instantly wanted to take them back. But I couldn’t. I had to stand my ground, show him I wasn’t a pushover.
Stu stepped closer, leaning forward to take the pen from my hand and shove the papers out of the way. “You talk like I came up with all this on my own and I didn’t. I was put up to it. If it were down to me I never would’ve used you like I did.”
His features were etched with regret, and yet there it was—the truth. He’d used me. He’d probably only read Jude to alleviate his guilt, to prove to himself that he wasn’t such a bad person.
And there was me thinking he had an actual interest in expanding his learning.
My head hurt, the final remnants of my hangover and dealing with Stu making it ache.
“Look, I’m tired. I can’t do this right now,” I said, rising from my seat and frantically shoving my things into my bag. “I still don’t understand why you’re coming to class, but whatever. If you want to learn I’ll teach you. But like I said, there’s no us. There never will be.”
Stu’s gaze hardened as I gestured for him to leave. Silently, he turned and left the classroom. As I locked up I felt emotion catch in my throat but I did my best to tamp it down until I got home. Once there I could let out all my pent-up emotions.
Stu’s car was still parked outside as I left but I couldn’t see him. The glare from the sun blocked out his windows, and butterflies flitted in my stomach at the idea of his unseen, watchful eyes.
I was antsy the entire way home, wondering about Stu, a million questions swirling around inside my head. Had I been too harsh? Or had I given him exactly what he deserved?
My fluster meant I was out of my car and almost to my front door before I saw him. The very same man from yesterday had coming knocking again, but this time he was facing me. I stood frozen to the spot as I dropped my keys in fright. They fell to the ground with a loud clatter.
The first thing I noticed were his black shark-like eyes. Seemed oddly fitting that he worked as a money collector.
“Andrea Anderson?” he asked, his voice hard. Yep, there definitely wasn’t going to be any messing around with this one.
“I, um . . .” I mumbled, unable to find my voice.
The man withdrew a leather-bound folder from under his arm, opening it up and flicking through some papers. I felt like using this opportunity to make a run for it, but then again, I doubted he’d have trouble catching up to me. When he found what he was looking for, his eyes scanned back and forth and I swallowed, my mouth dry as sandpaper. Inside my chest my heart beat like a rabbit on crack.
Why was this happening to me today of all days? When I just wanted to shut myself inside my room, eat chocolate, and have a good cry.
He let out a low whistle and lifted his gaze to mine. “You’re two months behind on your repayments. I need to collect £1375 by the end of tomorrow or we’ll be upping your interest by another two per cent.” At this he closed his folder with a definitive whump and shoved it back under his arm.
My mouth opened and shut several times as I tried to find words. “I don’t have it right now, b-but I’ll have it in a couple of weeks. I’ll have every penny I owe in just a couple of weeks,” I promised him. Stu hadn’t given us a time frame for the robbery, but it had to be happening soon, right?
“Forgive me if I find that hard to believe,” said Shark Eyes, his expression cynical.
“It’s the truth, I swear. I’m set to inherit some money from a relative,” I lied.
“Oh yeah? Me, too. I’ll be getting a big windfall once my uncle Rupert Murdock pops his clogs. Come on now, do you think I don’t hear this bullshit every fucking day? You come up with the cash before five p.m. tomorrow evening or your interest goes up, Miss Anderson. It’s that simple.”
“But please, it’s just not possible,” I said, my voice pleading.
He glanced over my shoulder to where my car was parked out on the street. “That your motor?”
I nodded before thinking it through.
“Bet you could get yourself a couple grand for it. See? Problem solved.”
“I can’t sell my car. I need it to get to work.” And really, I didn’t want to. I loved driving, loved the freedom it provided. It was one of my few pleasures in life and I wasn’t prepared to give it up. Not yet, anyway.
“Public transport is a wonder these days,” he said, taking a step toward me. His face was hard, not a shred of empathy in his expression. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so small.
“I won’t sell it. I told you. I’ll have the money very soon. I’m not lying.”
His stance grew threatening as he continued to advance on me, leaving barely an inch between us. My gut quivered, because he practically oozed intimidation. I guess that’s why this was his job.
Glaring down at me, he spat, “Sell the fucking car and have the money by tomorrow, babe, or your interest goes up. No compromises. I’m not gonna fall for that innocent doe-eyed bollocks you’re trying to peddle.” His words were cutting and I flinched away from him. He honestly sounded like he was two seconds away from roughing me up.
“You want to repeat that, mate? This time to someone your own fucking size,” came a familiar voice. When I turned and saw Stu standing behind me, his expression was furious. Quick as a flash he wrapped his arm around my middle, pulling me back and away from the loan collector. When he’d set me firmly behind him he stood face to face with Shark Eyes, staring him down. Though this guy had width on his side, Stu had height, plus what I’d always suspected to be the kind of athletic muscularity only prison could provide.
“This is between me and Miss Anderson,” said Shark Eyes. “So why don’t you piss off and stay out of it.”
“I’m not going anywhere, so why don’t you piss off, yeah? Go get your jollies threatening some other poor defenceless woman.”
Shark Eyes pointed at me. “If she doesn’t pay up, things are only going to get worse for her, whether she has a dumb-shit little guard dog on her side or not.”
“Leave,” Stu grunted, his entire body coiled tight. I could tell his patience was already wearing thin and watched as he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his fists, ready for a fight. The fact that he was defending me when he didn’t have to gave me an odd swishy feeling in my stomach.
“I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.”
“You’d better be good and ready in three seconds because I’m about to give you some help.”
Shark Eyes grunted as he looked Stu up and down, deciding whether or not he was worth it. He must’ve decided he wasn’t because a second later he gave another grunt, shot me a final threatening look, and stalked away from my flat.
As soon as he was gone I let out a relieved sigh, slumping back against my front door as I willed my pulse to slow down. I’d never endured a confrontation like that before. Up until now, I’d only received threatening letters and phone calls from my bank. This was new territory, and I was completely unequipped to deal with it. I’d been brought up relatively privileged, had spent the majority of my life quite sheltered, really.
Perhaps that’s why Stu took facing off with Shark Eyes in his stride. He hadn’t been sheltered, had experienced real hardship. Threatening confrontations were probably a daily occurrence for him in prison.
He stood silently next to me and I could feel his eyes looking me over, searching for cracks. He probably thought I was going to break down any moment, and believe me, I wanted to. I wasn’t normally so weak, but everything had just been piling up lately and I’d been internalising so much of it. It was only natural that the floodgates would burst open sooner or later.
But no, not here, not in front of Stu Cross. I could wait for privacy, until there were no judging eyes present, just my four bedroom walls and my pillow to comfort me and soak up my tears.
“You all right?” Stu asked, laying a hand on my shoulder, his voice soft.
And just like that, as though all I needed was a sympathetic word and a light touch, I broke. In spite of my determination to put up a strong front, all my pent-up sadness, feelings of inadequacy, fear of losing everything, utter indignation erupted, and I was helpless to do anything about it. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I turned away from him and dug in my handbag for some Kleenex. All I found was a crumpled napkin. I used it dab my eyes in an effort to hide my tears. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to cover up the sniffling.
“Ah fuck, come here.” He wrapped his arm around my waist again and pulled me into his warm chest. “Hush, I’ve got you,” he whispered as he turned me and I buried my face in his neck, unprepared to let him see my blotchy cheeks.
Stu’s hand drifted comfortingly down my back, coming to rest at the base of my spine. There he started to rub soothing circles as his other arm held me to him. It felt so good to be held by another human being that I simply sank into the embrace, helpless to resist the comfort.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” Stu murmured, his lips in my hair as he pressed a light kiss to the top of my head. Tingles radiated down my spine from his voice alone. I could lose myself in these arms. How was I still this attracted to him when I knew it wasn’t reciprocated?
He smelled so good. I couldn’t help inhaling his masculine scent. There was something incredibly comforting about it, something that made me feel protected. I paused, hoping he hadn’t noticed me practically nuzzling his neck. But he just continued rubbing circles, letting me cry it out. After another minute or two I drew away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Earlier today we’d fought. I’d been horrible to him and here he was defending me against threatening money collectors and holding me as I cried. I didn’t feel like I deserved it, even if he had used me before.
His hazel eyes looked me over as I dabbed the remaining wetness from my face. I couldn’t look at him, and instead stared at the ground as I asked quietly, “Why did you come?”
“I didn’t like how we left things.”
I glanced up, studying his expression and seeing nothing but remorse.
Stu raked a hand through his hair. “Andrea, listen I—”
“Do you want to come in for tea?” I cut him off, feeling too raw to continue standing on my doorstep with a red post-crying face.
“Yes,” he answered, his voice still soft. Maybe he thought that if he spoke normally I’d break down again. Now that my crying jag was over I felt more embarrassment creeping in.
Busying myself with picking my keys up off the ground and opening the door, I led him inside the flat. The distinct tones of Rachmaninov echoed from Alfie’s room so I knew he was busy at work. He always listened to classical music when he painted. Seemingly hearing us come in, the music shut off and my cousin emerged from his room.
There was dark blue paint in his hair and his fingers were stained black. I took this to mean he’d started working on the piece for Stu. He also had his laptop tucked under his arm, which made me think he’d come out to show me something. Really though, I was glad of his presence, because I felt like I needed a buffer. My emotions were too close to the surface.
Alfie looked between the two of us, his concerned gaze falling on me the longest. “Andie, is everything okay? You look upset.”
Before I could answer Stu spoke. “There was a piece-of-shit money collector outside coming the hard man with her. I ran him off.”
“Oh,” Alfie exclaimed, his hand going to his heart. “Was it the same man from yesterday? I’ll admit I was too scared to answer the door when I saw him.”
“Yes,” I said, nodding, “it was the same guy.”
“Well, in that case I suppose thanks are in order,” he said to Stu somewhat warily. “I’m not sure what Andie would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”
I huffed at this, not liking the insinuation that I was a weak, defenceless little woman, even if admittedly, I had been a tad weak and defenceless.
“No worries,” said Stu, noticing my tense posture. Sure, I’d just been crying my eyes out, but it wasn’t like I wouldn’t have survived the encounter if it weren’t for him. I just wouldn’t have had a soothing shoulder to cry on afterwards. No big deal.
A moment of quiet ensued as I went to put the kettle on and Alfie perched himself on a stool by the counter. Stu went and took a seat by the window, his face etched with thought. What on earth was going through his mind now?
“Pssst,” Alfie whispered over the noise of the kettle, gesturing for me to come closer.
“What?” I mouthed.
“Don’t you think we should help him? Not to be mean, but he doesn’t strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed. This Duke character could be setting him up. We should let him tell us his plan for the robbery, like I offered last night.”
I frowned just as Stu spoke up. “I can hear you, you know.”
Alfie wore a sheepish expression. “Sorry.”
“And just so you know, I’m not as dumb as I look.”
“You’re right, I apologise,” said Alfie, appearing embarrassed. “I’m afraid I fall victim to stereotyping from time to time. And you’re right, just because your muscles are big doesn’t mean your brain is small.”
Stu tilted his head from side to side, like his neck was tense. “People always make the same assumption about me. I’m used to it.” The way he spoke made my chest ache, and I wished I could go over and give him a hug. Had people always judged him on the way he looked?
“Yes well, most people are small-minded,” I said. “They don’t realise that there are many different kinds of intelligence.”
“And that right there is why you’re such a wonderful teacher,” said Alfie. “You can find a talent in everyone.”
Stu’s gaze heated as he watched me and I shifted from foot to foot. His expression gave me butterflies. I busied myself making us all tea as Alfie turned to ponder Stu.
“So, would you like my advice?”
“Your advice?”
“About the robbery. If I’m honest, I’m quite eager to poke some holes in this plan of the Duke’s. In my opinion the best schemes are plotted when several heads knock together.”
Stu rubbed his thumb across his lips, an action I founded strangely mesmerising. So much so that I almost spilled the milk I held, catching myself just in time.
“You sure you won’t start going hysterical on me again? Last night was dramatic enough,” said Stu, eyes wary.
“I promise. I might not like it but I’ve made my peace with the situation. For better or worse, we’re all in this for the long haul.”
Stu eyed him a moment as I set Alfie’s cup down in front of him then carried the other over to Stu. Our fingers brushed when he took it, reminding me of how good it felt when he’d rubbed my back so soothingly. And yes, how good it felt when he’d kissed me at my parents’ house.
“The Duke’s getting out in a month. That’s why he needs the money. He plans on hotfooting it over to the Seychelles where he can spend his days in the sun and his nights bedding all the East African beauties he can get his hands on.”
“How delightfully extravagant and predictable,” Alfie sighed and I gave a light chuckle.
Stu’s expression warmed at my laughter and I glanced away shyly, focusing on my teacup. “Well anyway, the bloke we’re ripping off is actually an old acquaintance of the Duke’s, goes by the name of Renfield.”
“As in Dracula’s thrall?” Alfie scoffed. “That’s an unfortunate surname to get stuck with.”
“Renfield’s a big deal, some kind of hedge fund millionaire and apparently a crazy art fanatic. He’s had the painting in his private collection since the early nineties, when he supposedly purchased it from the thieves who pulled off the museum heist. The Duke caught wind that Renfield was relocating from London to the United Arab Emirates. Trouble is, he’s going to have a hell of a time moving his collection of stolen art and antiquities across the pond. That’s where I come in.”
I frowned past a sip of tea, my stomach churning as I listened to Stu speak. The whole thing just felt too real now Alfie and I were being held privy to the actual plan.
“The Duke used his contacts to have me recommended to Renfield as a specialist trafficker. I’ve got to pose as some bloke whose job it is to transport contraband across country borders. I’ve been in contact with him for a while now, but we won’t meet in person until next week. That’s where I’m going to have to convince him I’m the real deal.”
“And if you don’t?” I put in, scared for him. I had no idea what kind of nutcase this Renfield might be.
“Then the whole thing is screwed, I imagine,” said Alfie before Stu could reply.
“Pretty much,” Stu agreed.
“So, if my skills of deduction prove correct, what you plan to do is transport the Duke’s items while replacing the real painting with my fake, yes?”
“Yep.”
“But what if you get caught?” I asked anxiously. “Even after you swap the paintings you still have a bunch of stolen art to transport all the way to Dubai or wherever he’s moving to. That’s a big risk to take.”
Stu scratched his jaw, his expression torn. “The Duke says he’s organised for me to travel on a cargo ship that goes fucking everywhere before ending up in Malaysia, and from there I take another ship to Dubai, where Renfield’s men will collect the items.”
“Sounds a little too simple, if you ask me,” said Alfie, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve a feeling you’ll have a much bigger problem getting into the UAE than this Duke is letting on. And of course he won’t care because he’ll have his painting by then. I’m sure I’m right when I say you don’t want to go back to prison, especially not some Middle Eastern prison where quite frankly you’ll stand out like a sore thumb, not to mention you don’t even speak the language.”
Stu thought on this a moment before speaking. “So what you’re saying is I need to be one step ahead, right? Maybe I could pay somebody to transport the goods for me. Somebody who actually comes from the Middle East and understands what they’re dealing with.”
“Precisely,” said Alfie.
“Yeah, but how can I trust they’ll follow through?”
“Simple. You don’t pay them until the job is done. I might be an artist but I’m the son of a businessman. Growing up for me was a series of deals that my father was constantly in the middle of.”
Alfie’s voice grew detached for a moment. He never really spoke of his childhood because those years had been privileged but lonely. Also, even before they lost all their money, his dad had cheated on his mum countless times, turning her into a paranoid wreck. I was surprised Alfie lasted so long under her roof, since she wasn’t the easiest woman in the world to live with.
“Think I’m gonna have to call in some favours, find someone who’s desperate for the money and willing to take the risk,” said Stu, his expression thoughtful.
“That’s probably the wisest action to take. I certainly wouldn’t put myself through the risk of completing the journey.”
My heart clenched at Stu’s predicament, and though I was still trying to convince myself I was angry with him, I worried. I worried what would happen if he couldn’t find someone to take on the job, because in my gut I couldn’t stand the idea of him going it alone.
“Oh, before I forget,” said Alfie, opening up his laptop. “I made an interesting discovery today while studying the images the Duke provided.”
Both Stu and I came to stand by him as he pulled up a picture file that showed a 3-D image of The Storm on the Sea of Galilee. Alfie zoomed in on the cracks in the paint. “When I did this before I never had actual images of the original like this. It’s fascinating the things that can’t be seen in ordinary prints. I’ve always known that unlike paintings done on wood panels where the cracks run in somewhat straight lines, on canvas it’s the exact opposite. The cracks form in concentric circles, with a secondary network of finer cracks that radiate from the centre and join the circles together like a spider-web.”
He paused and zoomed again, this time rotating the image at an angle. “And see here, the cracks actually appear to be elevated. Fortunately, I have a few methods of replicating this effect so it shouldn’t be too difficult. My new discovery though, are these tiny little black and brown pinhead spots at the edges of the painting.” Now he zoomed to the far left of the piece. “All day I’ve been trying to figure them out, and with a bit of research online I managed to discover what they are.” He paused as though for dramatic effect.
“Well, what are they?” I asked.
“Ancient fly droppings!” Alfie exclaimed as though it was the most marvellous thing ever.
“Lovely,” Stu deadpanned and I gave a light chuckle.
“That’s kind of disgusting,” I said and Alfie frowned.
“Oh, you’re no fun. I wish Jamie could be in on this with us. I’m sure he’d be just as excited as I am.”
“Excited about fly poo. What is the world coming to?” I joked.
“Well, I for one am looking forward to figuring out a way to replicate them,” said Alfie, sticking out his tongue at me. I smiled and walked over to the fridge.
“I think I’ll make something to eat. Anybody hungry?”
“Oh yes, I’m starved,” said Alfie, rising from his seat and heading for the door. “Call me when it’s ready.”
Stu eyed his departing figure, a single brow raised. “He always treat you like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re his mum.”
I laughed. “You mean because he lets me cook for him? Believe me when I say nobody wants Alfie loose in the kitchen. He might be a genius with a paintbrush, but my cousin could manage to burn a ham sandwich.”
Stu let out a quiet chuckle and stood, crossing the room to stand before me. I swallowed, my throat dry at his proximity. I turned and opened the fridge to check what food we had in, trying to ignore the awareness he provoked.
“Are you staying to eat?” I asked shyly, not meeting his eyes. I could feel his heat as he approached again, this time standing behind me.
“I should get going,” he replied, voice low.
I nodded. “Okay, I guess I’ll see you in class then.”
“See you in class, Andrea,” Stu whispered right before he pressed a kiss to the back of my neck. I closed my eyes, the sensation overpowering even though it was only a kiss. By the time I turned around to face him he was already gone.
It was a shame his presence still lingered.