He opens the door and looks back at me. Then pulls the door open and steps to the side. Holding it open for me.

  ‘Oh,’ I say.

  I know I should fade my aura, I don’t want him to think I’m a stalker, but I also want him to see me. I can’t mirror his aura, choose which would be the best and most attractive for him, because I can’t see his. I can’t lessen my colours so I’m not overpowering, or increase them so he’s drawn to my power. I’m completely at a loss as to how to get his attention, how to please him, how to be something or someone that entices him.

  I’m stuck here, as me, just myself, and I don’t know what to do.

  ‘Are you going in?’ he asks, holding the door open.

  ‘Oh no, thank you,’ I say, taking my sunglasses off.

  ‘Just … taking a walk?’ he says with a grin. ‘You have to go back the way you came, it’s a dead end.’

  ‘No it’s not,’ I say, looking at him, looking up. ‘Hopefully it’s the beginning.’

  I don’t know what else to say, but I don’t want him to leave, I’m still standing in the middle of the road, looking at him. He allows the door to close. He remains outside.

  ‘I saw you on the Tube,’ I say, before I really have the chance to think about it, but it all comes out anyway. ‘Months ago.’ I swallow. ‘And then I saw you again, just there. You passed by and I just wanted to … um, well, I know this sounds weird – I promise you I’m not weird. Actually, that’s not true, I am a little weird, but not in a bad way.’

  He’s grinning at me, seemingly open to my ramblings.

  ‘I just wanted to say hi to you.’

  ‘You followed me here?’ he asks.

  ‘Um. I should say no, but, yes.’

  He chuckles, takes his headphones off and wraps them around his neck. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Alice Kelly.’

  ‘Hi Alice Kelly. I’m Andy. It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he says. ‘I’m flattered.’

  I smile and we hold it for a second.

  ‘I’ll see you on the Tube again, maybe.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I back away and wave, then turn around and walk back down the street, my heart pounding, fighting the urge to turn around. I lose the battle at the corner and when I turn around, with a smile ready, he’s gone.

  ‘You get on the Tube again tomorrow,’ Hugh says. ‘Definitely.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Poh says, their toddler asleep in her arms. ‘I don’t know. I need a guy’s perspective.’

  ‘Am I not a guy?’

  ‘Yes, but we’re married and out of the dating game a long time,’ she says. ‘In fact we only ever dated each other.’

  ‘That’s what you think,’ Hugh says, teasing. ‘Andy’s practically said to her, I’ll see you on the Tube.’

  Andy Tennant, he’s on the youth centre website. I like that Hugh used his name, speaks about him as if he’s real now, because he is real. I found him, but how do I keep him, figure him out?

  ‘You think? You don’t suppose that he’ll be creeped out that she’s following him?’ Poh asks. ‘I don’t know, Alice, this is so different, you asking us about what people want. Usually you know instinctively.’

  ‘I know, that’s what’s so odd about him. It’s like he’s speaking a different language and I have to learn how to speak all over again.’

  They both laugh.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Welcome to being human,’ Hugh says. ‘I’m still trying to figure out what she wants.’

  ‘Sleep,’ Poh says, standing up. ‘His advice should come with a warning,’ she says. ‘Night,’ she kisses him and he watches her leave.

  I want what they have.

  And I smile to myself because, as terrifying as this is, I’ve wanted to be just like everyone else for a long time. Now I have it. He’s the connection I’ve been looking for, the power cord that can attach me to another person without me directly sticking my finger in the socket and getting a shock, the source that I need for my own quality of life. He is the only man, the only person who can make me feel so … human.

  I attend a job interview which I have no business applying for, to become manager of a garden centre and nursery. I have no idea why they call me for an interview; maybe they’re desperate.

  A panel of three people face me. As I shake their hands and take my seat, I try as quickly as possible to get a feel for them. It helped that I observed them together earlier before they went into the interview room. There is a logical yellow, a rich powerful blue and a sympathetic deep green. I instantly know never to go darker than the powerful blue so as not to be seen as a challenge. It is the powerful blue that I must win over. The man with the deep green is understanding and smiling throughout, asking gentle light questions where he thinks I will shine, asking me about things I like to do, hobbies, that kind of thing. Logical Yellow asks questions to assess how I’ll deal with problematic matters, difficult customers and preparing plants for a cold snap. Dark Blue, cynical and conservative, is intent on making me as uncomfortable as possible and sending me on my way.

  It’s been nine months since I stopped shielding myself and changing my aura colours. I think today is an acceptable break away, and even Naomi agrees. I temporarily draw the predominant blue colour over mine when she asks her questions and while I answer. It’s difficult to do this while I’m so nervous at the same time as trying to think of clever answers, as well as trying to stay calm, but I have become a bit of an expert at this. I have taken what Naomi has taught me to new levels that even she could not fathom.

  ‘Usually,’ Dark Blue says, ‘applicants have a degree in botany or horticulture or some experience in this area.’

  It’s not a question. It’s a reason why I shouldn’t have this job.

  I draw the blue over me, slightly paler than hers, but dark enough for her to feel we’re in the same club, that there’s a chance we’re on the same level. ‘For the past year I’ve worked with Kew Gardens on their Grow Wild flagship outreach learning initiative, engaging with youth and community audiences across London to encourage people to enjoy plants and fungi. People in disadvantaged areas, who wouldn’t ordinarily be in the position to do so.’

  ‘Your role was in administration, was it not?’ Dark Blue asks.

  ‘I wanted to be in the botany world and I learned a lot being in that environment. My love of plants has helped me to become more educated and knowledgeable about them. I’ve learned about them in my own time, not in college.’

  ‘Yes,’ Deep Green looks down at my résumé. ‘You were a carer for your mother.’

  ‘Yes. We used to walk all the time, through parks and gardens. That’s how I discovered my love for it. I transformed the garden at home, I felt it helped with her development and my own mental health.’ It’s an interview, it’s almost expected you’ll lie about something. ‘She wasn’t the easiest of people, so I think that experience will help me with disgruntled customers. She taught me to have patience.’ I say, realising this isn’t a lie.

  ‘But this isn’t gardening job,’ Dark Blue says. Dark Blue wants to stick to the rules. She’s against me. Deep Green is for me. It’s up to Logical Yellow to give the presiding vote.

  ‘I think the same rules apply to a garden centre and nursery as they do to my balcony,’ I say, thinking of my bustling balcony at home. ‘You must consider the scale and use of the space available, the importance of seasonality and selecting plants that provide year-round interest. Try to have something in flower every week of the year. Consider light and aspect to help select plants that will thrive. Be realistic about creating something you can maintain.’

  ‘What do you imagine your typical day will be like here?’ Dark Blue asks with a smirk.

  ‘I imagine no two days will be the same,’ I reply. ‘Weather and seasonality will dictate most of it.’

  Deep Green smiles supportively.

  ‘I may not have horticulture theory and qualifications, but I have plant knowledge. Let’s just say I understand trees and plants better than I understand most people. Tree roots connect and communicate under the ground, if you follow their line of communication you can identify where the problem is. Like a line or circle of handholding; when someone lets go and breaks the chain, you have to identify the problem.’

  ‘Have you any examples of how you identified a problem like this?’ Logical Yellow asks.

  ‘I’ve brought a letter from Laurence Metcalf, the head gardener at the Ormsby Estate and Private Gardens.’

  ‘Laurence Metcalf, the recent recipient of the Royal Horticultural Society’s President’s Award?’ Dark Blue asks.

  ‘And regular winner at the Chelsea Flower Show,’ Deep Green says with a smile.

  I didn’t know that. I try to hide my surprise.

  ‘I was out walking with my mum when I recognised ash dieback in the trees and brought it to his attention. As a result, the government set up a scheme to help parks and forestry with a fund to replant ash affected by dieback. I believe Laurence was the first to avail of this grant, the first to report sight of the plague.’

  I hand Logical Yellow the letter. She puts her glasses on and reads.

  They contact me three days later to tell me the job is mine.

  I’m on the Tube, I am glowing with the news of my new job. I’m slightly distracted, wondering how on earth I’m going to pull it off, believing in myself as well as thinking I’m the world’s greatest fraud, when I feel a poke on my shoulder.

  ‘Hello, Alice Kelly,’ he says.

  ‘Andy, hi.’

  I have been on the Tube every day since I met him; he did not appear. I have been disappointed but I haven’t panicked; I know where he works, I can find him if I want to.

  ‘Too bright down here,’ he says, noting my glasses.

  ‘Oh. Yeah. Kind of.’

  ‘Hungover?’

  ‘Oh no. I don’t drink.’

  ‘Okay. Weirdo,’ he says, laughing, then immediately stops. ‘Sorry, that was a joke. The last time I asked someone why they didn’t drink they told me they were an alcoholic. That was embarrassing.’

  I look at him, around him. Trying to figure him out. We’ve never stood so close.

  ‘Don’t tell me you’re one,’ he says, worried.

  ‘No!’

  ‘Phew. It’s just that in Glasgow, where I grew up, if someone was an alcoholic, it meant they drank too much, you know? Not like now when it’s alcoholics who say they don’t drink.’ He visibly cringes. ‘Let me start again. Hi, Alice Kelly.’

  ‘Hi Andy.’ I smile. ‘You can just call me Alice, you know.’

  ‘Great, we do know each other a little better now after all. On your way to work?’

  ‘Actually no, but I just learned I got a new job.’

  ‘Yeah? Congratulations. What is it?’

  ‘Nursery manager.’

  ‘Babies?’

  ‘No.’ I don’t know whether to laugh or not, I don’t know if he’s joking or not. I can’t catch the tone, though maybe I could if I stopped looking around him for the usual tell-tale signs. I’ve actually got to start listening to him, reading him. He looks over his shoulder to see who I’m looking at. I try to focus on him, on his face, on his button nose, on his brown/hazel eyes, but I’m so used to reading colours I have fallen down on pure human interaction. The gaps are clear, my weaknesses are revealed. I feel my body start to tremble nervously. I want to please him so much.

  A man gets on and stands beside us. He has worrying, troubled colours all over him. I move Andy away from him quickly.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘We just need to move.’

  ‘Okay.’ We walk down the carriage to the next standing area. The man we left behind suddenly vomits all over the place. People groan and move away, the stench is horrific.

  ‘Good call,’ he says, impressed. ‘Let’s get off at the next stop, we can walk the rest of the way, yeah?’ he says, holding his nose. I agree and we don’t speak again until we get off, along with the rest of the people on the carriage.

  ‘So you work with babies,’ he says, once we’re in the fresh air.

  He walks so slowly, the world spins around him again and he just strolls along, probably late for work but in no rush at all.

  ‘No. Actually, it’s a horticultural nursery,’ I say. ‘Plants.’

  ‘Now that’s different,’ he says. ‘Do you have a degree in horticulture or something like that?’

  ‘Nothing like that. I didn’t go to university. It’s a long and uninteresting story.’

  ‘That’s the way to tee it up.’

  I laugh. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not telling it. Basically, I’m completely unqualified. I don’t know why they hired me, so I probably won’t last long.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ he says, punching the air, and I laugh. ‘But seriously, feeling out of your depth – that’s when you know you’re doing the right thing.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Unless you’re in a pool or the sea and you don’t know how to swim. On that occasion, depth is a bad idea.’

  I laugh.

  He watches me for a moment. ‘Would you like to go for a coffee?’

  ‘So you don’t drink coffee either,’ he says, looking at me clinging to my bottle of water with gloved hands.

  ‘No. No caffeine.’

  I don’t offer a reason and he doesn’t ask.

  ‘You were saying: you didn’t go to uni because …’

  ‘I wasn’t saying.’ I smile.

  ‘But I want to hear it.’ He tears the top of a chocolate muffin and stuffs it in his mouth.

  ‘I had to care for my mum. She had an operation on her spine that confined her to a wheelchair, so I stayed home to care for her full-time.’

  ‘You’ve no siblings?’

  ‘Two brothers. One is in Doha, the other was in prison at the time.’

  He raises his eyebrows. I sip my water, watch his reaction.

  He leans in. ‘Doha? Well that’s a new one.’

  I laugh. ‘Prison is no big deal, but Doha is?’

  ‘Well,’ he says, ‘I’ve known quite a few people who went to prison, I don’t know anyone who’s gone to Doha.’

  We both laugh.

  I look around the coffee shop. I don’t like the energies of the person closest to me. ‘Do you mind if we move over there?’ I point to a free table, away from everything else.

  ‘Yeah sure.’ He picks up his coffee and chocolate muffin and moves immediately. ‘You don’t care for your mum anymore, so does that mean she’s …?’

  ‘Still alive. My brother got out of prison and he’s caring for her. If that’s possible. I had to go, I couldn’t stay there.’

  ‘Never good to stay in toxic families.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I know a lot about that.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘From the youth centre mainly. I’ve a great family, thankfully. I was raised by my grandparents. Didn’t know my dad, and Mum was a drug addict, but despite that I had an idyllic upbringing. It could easily have gone the other way though. I think that’s why I was drawn to my job.’

  ‘What is a youth worker, exactly?’

  ‘It’s when a thirty-six-year-old man gets bullied every day by teenagers.’

  I laugh.

  ‘Nah. Most people think it’s teaching troublemakers, but I take issue with that.’ He licks chocolate from his thumb. ‘In the mood to hear a rant? It will help me practise for when I rip the head off another teacher this afternoon.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ I grin.

  ‘Here’s what I think about troublemakers. No, here’s what I know about troublemakers. It’s a social label that I despise. Troublemakers are usually highly sensitive people and highly sensitive people can be very conscientious, cautious, perceptive and empathetic. They can often see what others cannot and they’re like sponges, absorbing all the energy and stimulus around them.’

  I watch his lips, his eyes. I suddenly can’t remember how to breathe. I’m holding my breath. I have to remind myself of the in and out. Is this a set-up? Did Hugh organise this? Or Naomi?

  ‘They notice when someone is uncomfortable, sad or angry, no matter how much someone tries to hide their feelings. They understand the differences in perception versus reality, and inequality. They usually have strong values such as kindness and fairness. People who don’t understand the nature of highly sensitive people refer to them as troublemakers. And that’s how I feel about that. I will defend my students until the cows come home.’

  He takes a final bite of muffin and squeezes the wrapper together, sending crumbs everywhere. He’s very messy.

  ‘I won’t apologise,’ he says, mouth full. ‘You gave me permission to rant.’

  ‘I’m glad you did. Where did you learn that?’

  ‘I studied sociology, but mainly I learned it from being with my students over the years. Anyway. What’s your favourite movie?’

  I laugh at the sudden change of direction.

  A man enters the café with a swirl of muddy green around his head. He sits at the table beside us; the swirling reminds me of racing bluebottle flies circling over a heap of dung. I finally have Andy here, right before me in the flesh and all I want to do is leave. Don’t want to, need to leave, I need to get away from the man whose thoughts are attracting an infestation. I twist the lid of my water bottle tight, I’m unsettled in my seat.

  ‘Or are you more of a TV person? I can binge an entire season of a show back to back until 4 a.m., but for some reason a movie is now too long.’

  I laugh again. I could just listen to him the entire time, not say a word, but I know it doesn’t work like that. And the man beside me is putting me off. I could draw my shield but I don’t do that anymore after what happened, I can’t return to that fragile state, and anyway, I don’t want to be numb to Andy, not him of all people.

  ‘You done?’ he asks.

  I nod. ‘Thank you.’