BAZ
It's a few weeks after the concert. Simon and I are walking down the street after a day out and about in central London. We're hand in hand—he simply doesn't give a shit about the unfriendly glances we sometimes get, and I've always been good at appearing not to care. We round a corner and I realize with a sudden jolt that the woman with blue hair and matching Doc Martens at the other end of the street is Fiona.
I start to steer us towards the street crossing so we can avoid a confrontation, Simon's never been fond of the idea of spending any sort of time with her—and who can blame him? But Snow spots her too and stops me. He gives my hand a little squeeze, then he's dropped it and he's off down the pavement towards Fiona. She begins getting into her MG. I stay where I am and watch in disbelief as he starts running and prevents her from disappearing into the car with a hand on her shoulder. She stands and I see her turn to face Simon, who is already talking to her earnestly, gesturing with his hands. She appears to say a word or two back, although it's unclear if Snow's bothered to listen to her or not. Then my jaw drops, not because I see him reach out as though to shake her hand, but because she responds by actually pulling him into a hug. A real hug, which he returns enthusiastically. Then he speaks again and she looks up in my direction, spots me, and raises a hand in the air. I think she's waving and I've begun to return the gesture when I realize it's the back side of her hand that's towards me…and she's only put up two fingers. Fucking Fiona. I don't return that gesture. I have a sense of decency and class. Simon has disengaged himself from the hug by this point and is sauntering back towards me with the world's biggest grin on his face.
