The next day it began to rain. I thought about staying under my tree and crashing there for the day but the thought of missing my meeting with Ayamin kept me going.

‘Come on Henry,’ I said, loading him up with my belongings, ‘Time to go buddy.’

Towns and trees and turnoffs passed and eventually Henry the Vespa crawled up the slope towards Briancon – the same place I’d read about with Ayamin.

I could’ve pushed him harder, could’ve revved his little engine like crazy, but Henry had got me this far, that pastel blue workhorse had managed to carry me all the way to France.

Plus, I reckoned we still had a few kilometres to go after we got to Briancon, hopefully with one more passenger.

There was one other reason I was driving like a snail. It was the main reason. The one deep inside of me that I didn’t want to think about.

I was going slow because I worried that Ayamin might not be there. It was like the longer I took to get to Briancon the longer I still had a chance of her being there.

At the same time, all I wanted was to get to the top and see her. So, I was in this strange crazy conundrum – some might call it love.

I laughed out loud and listened to it ricochet from the walls that made up the edge of town.

A few people were wandering the streets of Briancon, some tourists buying handcrafted jerseys. They watched me as I rode the Vespa as slowly as I could through town.

It doesn’t matter, I thought, because she said she loved you too. She’s probably thinking the same thing that you are. She’s probably up there pacing away and wondering where that idiot got to.

I increased the speed of Henry as a smile rode on my face, she’s waiting for you, I told myself as the church steeples appeared. There was something about the church, it almost made me want to get married.

My thought train stopped as Henry rounded the sloped street, the whole church was standing before me. The lights had just come on and even in the evening light they illuminated the steps, and sitting on the steps waiting patiently was…

No one.