I Am The Wind by Sarah Masters

need to.” He squeezes my hand. “I earn enough.”
    “Yeah, but it isn’t fair. I’ll get some cash-in-hand jobs or something. Saves me the hassle of continually being sacked.” I laugh, knowing I need to face Ted at some point, tell him I know what he’s been doing and that no matter how long he keeps it up, I won’t ever be coming back.
    Not that he wants me.
    Alfie needs to sort things out too. Maybe find John if he wants to, mend bridges. Perhaps even stand outside his childhood home, remember the times there. That’s all in the future, though. We have something else to do first.
    “So, food.” I smile at him. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t eaten since lunch.”
    “Shit. Fuck. I forgot. The time. We talked. I—”
    “It doesn’t matter.” I stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Shoes. I need shoes.”
    He widens his eyes, takes in a huge breath, and I tighten my hold on his hand.
    “We’ll go out to get something. It’s fine. It’ll be all right, I promise. ”
    He spews a ragged breath and turns away, letting go of my hand to walk downstairs. I’m right behind him, stopping in the hallway while he opens a closet door and pulls out my boots. I haven’t seen them in so long I’d forgotten what I’d worn that night when we came back here. But there they are, my black Doc Martins, slightly scuffed but well loved. I take them from him, careful not to look into his eyes, because if I do, I’ll come undone. I’ll bottle it, stay indoors, and that isn’t going to solve anything.
    We have to go outside.
    I slip them on, tie the laces. “Jacket?”
    “Oh. Right.” He delves into the closet again, handing me my coat, slipping his on. “Where are we going?”
    He sounds frightened.
    “You’ll see. Come on.” I pat my pocket—my wallet’s still there, then—and try to remember how much cash I had left after we left The Mason’s. It might not be much, but it’ll be plenty for what I have in mind.
    I jerk my head towards the door, let him open it and step outside before I join him on the step. Once he’s locked up, I hold his hand, not giving a fuck about the looks we’ll get from anyone we might see. They’re not important now, they never should have been, and shit, it feels damn fine to be walking with Alfie down the street like this.
    We don’t talk—if we did I think he’d let all his insecurities spill out—and it might well be better this way. After going down a couple of streets, his hand shaking in mine, I see the place I want to take him. The lights are bright inside, and the scent of salt and vinegar wafts towards us on the cold night air. I lead him across the road and into the fish and chip shop, lean against the counter and smile at the young serving guy.
    I clear my throat. “Chips, battered sausage, a big bit of cod and a chicken and mushroom pie. Oh, and a few sachets of tomato sauce. The ones with HP on the front.”
    A choked sound comes from Alfie, but I ignore it. If I look at him, the dam will break and I’ll be fit for nothing.
    “And I’ll have the same,” I say. “Exactly the same.”
    “Open or closed packets?” the guy asks.
    “Closed. We’re going home to eat.”
    I still don’t look at Alfie. Can’t.
    With my free hand I get out my wallet, tug my other from his and sort through the notes inside, pulling out enough to pay. I take the carrier bag from the counter and grab Alfie’s hand.
    We walk in silence again, the bag swinging beside me, and Alfie crying softly the whole way home.
    Dinner had been a quiet affair, neither of us managing to eat everything I’d ordered, but it didn’t matter. What did was that he’d finally got that meal, that we’d had the first painful outing and I was still here. With him.
    We shower separately, as though we’ve lived together for a good while already, and I join him in his bedroom once I’m done. I towel my hair, not that there’s much to towel, and don’t look at him as he rests under the