Page 59

Sophie

We’ve danced cheek to cheek to Ed Sheeran’s ‘Thinking Out Loud’ – another musical blast from the past. I felt the softness of Adam’s hair curling at the nape of his neck and the broadness of his shoulders beneath my fingertips, squirrelling away these moments in my mind.

Adam fetches more drinks while I wait by the window, watching the dancing and hoping to spot familiar faces.

We haven’t met anyone else we know since the bar.

All I see are numbers. Strangers’ digits swirl feverishly in the air; the countdown clock continues to descend.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, but the diminishing digits are branded beneath my lids. I can’t escape from them. Numbers are everywhere.

‘Sophie . . . Hello.’

My eyes fly open.

Tom.

‘Hey, there!’

My attempt at jollity sounds strained, but I remind myself he has no idea I’ve been thinking the worst of him.

Tom hesitates before giving me an awkward peck on the cheek.

We stare at each other as he steps back.

His blond hair is receding, pulled into a ponytail, and the starched white shirt stretches across his stomach.

He tugs at the hem of his cream dinner jacket, clutching a pint glass of orange juice in his other hand.

‘It’s good to see you. I was hoping the weather wouldn’t put you off coming.’ He gazes around the dance floor, taking a sip of his drink. ‘Is Adam here?’

‘He’s at the bar – he should be back any minute.’

We exchange polite small talk while we wait for Adam – I’m not ready to bring up prom night or Betty and Roger.

The rain pitter-patters on the window as I explain how we reconnected through the quilt for his daughter.

Tom confesses he’s never married or had children.

He worked in investment banking after leaving Durham uni, before retraining to become a paramedic five years ago.

‘That’s quite the career change,’ I remark.

‘I wanted to do something more useful than buying new sports cars and making billionaires even richer.’

I raise an eyebrow. This was his dream when we were teenagers. He only ever talked about making ‘shitloads of money’. But I guess the City’s long-hours culture and stress must have taken a toll. Betty mentioned he’s struggled.

Tom takes a breath, his eyes moistening. ‘I’d been wondering about joining the ambulance service or becoming a doctor ever since the crash.’

‘Really? I had no idea.’

‘Well . . . I wouldn’t expect you to . ’

My cheeks warm. I cut all ties with Tom and Adam, blocking them on my socials. I feel the same stab of guilt I experienced when visiting Lily’s parents.

‘Nothing could be done for Margaret, the other driver,’ he says. ‘But I always wondered if Lily, Priti and Vinny could have been saved if Adam or I had known how to perform CPR or a defibrillator had been on hand.’

I glance at him, swaying. ‘Probably not. They were all so badly hurt.’

‘We’ll never know.’ He clutches his drink closely to his chest, blinking back tears. ‘I watched Vinny and Priti die while we waited for the ambulances. That stays with you. It can’t help but leave a mark.’

‘Of course – you and Adam were the first to arrive.’

He nods. ‘We were completely alone and panicking.’

The colour rises in my face. To my shame, I’ve never considered how awful it must have been for them finding the four of us critically injured or dying in the mangled wreck and Margaret already dead.

‘Everyone said I was Vinny’s best weed client, but he was a good friend. I lost him and Lily.’

Before I can speak, he continues. ‘Vinny was an irresponsible shitbag who killed the others. But he was a kid like us – eighteen – and made a dumb decision. He didn’t deserve to die.

No one did. I can’t turn back time but at least I get to help others now.

I also go into schools with colleagues to warn about the dangers of drink and drug driving. ’

‘I think it’s great you’re making a difference,’ I say thickly.

‘Joining the ambulance service helped me. I got my life back in order. It was chaotic for a long time. We all had different ways of coping: you cut everyone off, Adam threw himself into his studies and I turned to alcohol, I’m afraid.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He shakes his head. ‘I’ve been sober for six years, three months and two days.’

‘Those are good numbers,’ I tell him.

‘Yeah. I still talk about Lily in my meetings. And you, Sophie. I’ve wanted to speak to you for a long time and set things straight .

. .’ He tugs his bow tie nervously. ‘I saw you on the street last Saturday and wanted to break the ice before tonight. I’d hoped time had healed things, and we could talk, but you ducked into a shop.

I called by your mum’s house a few times, but you didn’t come to the door. ’

I attempt to speak, but he interjects.

‘Please let me say this – part of my recovery is about making amends with people I’ve wronged. I don’t blame you for wanting to sever ties with me. I just want the chance to say sorry.’

‘ I’m the one who should apologise. After the crash, I felt too guilty to see anyone. I deliberately cut myself off and that was wrong. I should have faced what happened instead of running away.’

‘And now?’ His eyes narrow.

‘I’m ashamed to say I’ve been avoiding you. I thought you held a grudge over Lily’s death.’

I don’t mention Roger’s emails, or how I believed he was responsible for the hurtful messages.

He shakes his head. ‘I only ever blamed myself.’

‘Why?’ I frown hard. ‘Lily followed me into the car.’

Before he can answer, Adam approaches, clutching champagne flutes.

‘Tom!’

He looks hesitantly from him to me, before passing a glass. I smile back, and the tension dissolves from his jaw.

‘How are you?’ He gives Tom a hug. ‘It’s great to see you.’

‘You too.’

‘Tom’s switched careers to become a paramedic,’ I tell him.

‘Wow! That’s a huge change!’

Those were my exact thoughts, but we can’t waste more time on small talk. This might be the only chance for Adam to resolve his feelings about prom night.

‘I’ve said sorry to Tom,’ I say, cutting in before he has a chance to reply. ‘I was caught up in my own misery and didn’t think about what either of you went through, coming across the cars that night, and how you both suffered afterwards.’

Adam flinches but remains silent.

‘And I’ve wanted to apologise to the two of you for a long time,’ Tom admits.

‘There’s no need. We’re all good.’ Adam puts an arm around my waist, pulling me closer. ‘We’ve got back together.’

‘That’s fantastic!’ He smiles warmly. ‘I’m happy for you both.’

‘What did you want to tell us, Tom?’ I prompt.

‘I’ve always felt responsible... If I hadn’t told Sophie your Stanford news, she wouldn’t have fled and got in the car. Lily wouldn’t have followed. I was the catalyst.’

‘No, that was me,’ Adam insists. ‘I should have told Sophie sooner. You weren’t to know I hadn’t broken the news to her.’

‘But I did,’ he blurts out. ‘That’s the point. I told Sophie on purpose. I wanted to cause trouble.’

‘Why?’ Adam stares at him, open-mouthed. ‘I thought we were friends?’

‘We were – are . But I was jealous. Everything seemed to come so easy to you.’

Adam shakes his head, placing his glass on the windowsill. ‘I swear, it didn’t.’

‘It looked that way from the outside. Your parents were wealthy and bought everything you wanted. You had top grades, universities falling over themselves to offer you places and... Sophie.’

I gaze at him, aghast.

‘You only ever had eyes for Adam, but he was careless with your feelings,’ he continues. ‘I wanted him to confront the consequences of his indecision, punish him . Obviously, I had no idea how it would turn out. I’ve been racked with guilt ever since. I’m sorry.’

Adam pulls him into his arms. ‘It’s behind us, mate. We’re sorry. All three of us did things we regret. It’s time we move on.’

I stifle a cry, joining in the joint hug.

‘It feels good to finally get my confession off my chest,’ Tom admits.

‘Me too,’ I say.

‘Let’s toast Lily.’ Adam grabs his champagne flute.

‘Don’t forget Priti and Vinny,’ I add.

Adam raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. ‘To absent friends.’

‘We’ll never forget any of you,’ I vow. ‘Or Margaret.’

‘To old friends who found their way back to each other after a long time,’ Tom says, as we lift our drinks. ‘It’s fitting the three of us are here tonight to remember the people we lost.’

We clink glasses, and I glance at the clock.

3 hours, 42 minutes and 7 seconds remaining.

Hope soars.

This must be it – the moment of forgiveness, reconciliation and redemption that alters something deep inside Adam, lengthening his life.

I turn back to him, grinning with anticipation.

But the smile vanishes from my face. Nothing has changed, except the waning minutes on the timer.

Adam’s number is still 1.