And so Emma Morleywalked home in the evening light, trailing her disappointment behind her.  The day was cooling off now, and she shiveredas she felt something in the air, an unexpected shudder of anxiety that ran thelength of her spine, and was so intense as to make her stop walking for amoment. Fear of the future, she thought. She found herself at the imposingjunction of George Street and Hanover Street as all around her people hurriedhome from work or out to meet friends or lovers, all with a sense of purposeand direction. And here she was, twenty-two and clueless and sloping back to adingy flat, defeated once again.

‘What are you going todo with your life?’ In one way or another it seemed that people had been askingher this forever; teachers, her parents, friends at three in the morning, butthe question had never seemed this pressing and still she was no nearer an answer.The future rose up ahead of her, a succession of empty days, each more dauntingand unknowable than the one before her. How would she ever fill them all?

She began walking again,south towards The Mound.

‘Live each day as ifit’s your last’, that was the conventional advice, but really, who had the energyfor that? What if it rained or you felt a bit glandy? It just wasn’t practical.Better by far to simply try and be good and courageous and bold and to make adifference. Not change the world exactly, but the bit around you. Go out therewith your passion and your electric typewriter and work hard at something. Changelives through art maybe. Cherish your friends, stay true to your principles,live passionately and fully and well. Experience new things. Love and be loved,if you ever get the chance.

That was her generaltheory, even if she hadn’t made a very good start of it. With little more thana shrug she had said goodbye to someone she really liked, the first boy she hadever really cared for, and now she would have to accept the fact that she wouldprobably never see him again. She had no phone number, no address, and even ifshe did, what was the point? He hadn’t asked for her number either, and she wastoo proud to be just another moony girl leaving unwanted messages. Have a nicelife had been her last line. Was that really the best she could come up with?

She walked on. Thecastle was just coming into view when she heard the footsteps, the soles ofsmart shoes slapping hard onto the pavement behind, and even before she heardher name and turned she was smiling, because she knew that it would be him.

‘I thought I’d lostyou!’ he said, slowing to a walk, red-faced and breathless, attempting toregain some nonchalance.

‘No, I’m here.’