“Call me or I’ll call you, but one of us will call, yes? What I mean is it’s not a competition. You don’t lose I you phone first.”

“This is me.’" He handed her the precious scrap of paper. ‘Call me or I’ll call you, but one of us will call, yes? What I mean is it’s not a competition. You don’t lose if you phone first.”

“Call me sentimental, but there's no-one in the world that I'd like to see get dysentery more than you”

“You're not going to turn into a wanker, are you?" says Tone, opening a can of larger."What do you mean?""He means you're not going to get all studenty on us," says Spencer."Well, I am a student. I mean, I will be, so,...""No, but I mean you're not gong to get all twatty and up-your-own-arse and come home at Christmas in a gown, talking Latin and saying "one does" and "one thinks" and all that...""Yeah, Tone, that's EXACTLY what I'm going to do.”

“Can I say something?''Go on''I'm a little drunk''Me too. That's okay.''Just....I missed you, you know.''I missed you too.''But so, so much, Dexter. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about, and you weren't there-''same here.''I tell you what it is. It's.....When I didn't see you, I thought about you every day, I mean EVERY DAY in some way or another-''same here.''-Even if it was just "I wish Dexter could see this" or "Where's Dexter now?" or "Christ that Dexter, what an idiot", you know what I mean, and seeing you today, well, I thought I'd got you back - my BEST friend. And now all this, the wedding, the baby- I'm so happy for you, Dex, but it feels like I've lost you again.'--'You know what happens you have a family, your responsibilities change, you lose touch with people''It won't be like that, I promise.''Do you?''Absolutely''You swear? No more disappearing?''I won't if you won't.'Their lips touched now, mouths pursed tight, their eyes open, both of them stock still. The moment held, a kind of glorious confusion.”

“If you're my friend I should be able to talk to you but I can't, and if I can't talk to you, well, what is the point of you? Of us?”

“Occasionally, very occasionally, say at four o’clock in the afternoon on a wet Sunday, she feels panic-stricken and almost breathless with loneliness. Once or twice she has been known to pick up the phone to check that it isn’t broken. Sometimes she thinks how nice it would be to be woken by a call in the night: ‘get in a taxi now’ or ‘I need to see you, we need to talk’. But at the best of times she feels like a character in a Muriel Spark novel – independent, bookish, sharp-minded, secretly romantic.”