Page 13 of When We Were Young

Festive tunes were playing on the radio when Will climbed into Aidan’s car on Christmas morning.

The whole family usually travelled to Oxfordshire together on Christmas Eve to stay with his uncle, but this year, Will and Aidan had to work.

Their parents thought Aidan was being generous when he offered to give Will a lift, but Will knew he only wanted someone to go halves on the petrol.

This year Emily was joining them. Will was excited to spend three days in her company, but the thought of her being anywhere near Aidan turned his stomach. Aidan honked the horn as they pulled up outside her house.

‘I bet her parents love it when you do that,’ said Will.

‘They’re not in now. I’m not that rude.’

As Emily emerged from the house, Will hopped out to give her the front seat.

She kissed his cheek. ‘Merry Christmas.’

He caught a hint of her perfume. ‘Merry Christmas.’

He took her Mary Poppins bag to the boot, and as he slammed it shut, he saw them kissing through the rear windscreen. He loitered for a moment before getting into the back of the car.

As they set off, ‘Winter Wonderland’ came on the radio.

‘I love this one!’ Emily said and began singing along. She turned to Will. ‘Come on – you’re the singer around here!’ So, he joined in. Aidan didn’t sing, he just smiled at her with his hand on her thigh.

Traffic was light, and the journey that seemed endless to him as a kid passed in a flash. When they pulled up, every inch of their uncle’s house was covered in coloured lights, as it was every year.

Sixteen guests sat down for Christmas lunch, the dining table extended with a wobbly trestle table usually reserved for DIY.

As guest of honour, Emily was given a proper dining chair beside Aidan, while Will sat opposite them on the same low stool he’d sat on as a child.

The room was loud and hot, with everyone talking over each other, pulling crackers, and calling out the jokes.

He’d always loved their big Irish family Christmases, but this year, he wished he was elsewhere.

After lunch, the family gathered in the sitting room to exchange gifts. Emily opened her present from Aidan – a simple gold bracelet. She was thrilled, kissing him on the lips in front of everyone. Aidan fastened the clasp, and she held out her arm for his aunt to take a photograph.

It didn’t suit her style at all.

Will remembered all the times in this very room Aidan had whinged about Will’s toys, never satisfied with his own.

His parents would make them share, knowing Aidan would soon lose interest once he got his way.

Aidan had only got Emily’s number because he noticed Will looking at her. How long before he tired of her?

Emily had bought presents for everyone.

When she handed him his gift, he felt terrible. ‘I didn’t get you anything…’

‘Don’t be silly.’ She waved a hand. ‘It’s only little.’

The parcel was indeed small, wrapped in white tissue paper and tied with red and white striped string. She watched as he opened it, revealing three tortoiseshell plectrums with varying patterns and colours. They were beautiful.

‘I think they’re vintage,’ she said.

Turning them over in his hands, he wondered who might have used them, what music they might have played. He looked up. She was waiting for his response but the thought of her choosing a gift for him and finding something so perfect threw him and all he could manage was a quiet: ‘Thank you.’

He held her in his gaze, and she let him. For a beat longer than he expected.

Later, the younger people took the dog for a walk by torchlight in the country lanes. They played parlour games into the evening until the older generation began dozing on the sofa and local family members headed home.

Will played a game of Monopoly with Aidan and Emily that went on long after everyone else had gone to bed.

Aidan’s speech was slurred by the time he cheated his way to victory.

He stood up to celebrate, but stumbled and fell to the floor in a shower of banknotes.

They hauled him up from where he was wedged between two dining chairs and had to support him up the stairs.

When they dropped him onto the bed, he fell asleep immediately. Will helped wrestle him out of his jeans, groaning in disgust while Emily giggled at Aidan’s ability to sleep through the whole episode.

They stood looking at Aidan lying in his underwear on the bed, snoring.

‘Night cap?’ Will asked.

Emily sighed. ‘Okay. One more.’

She padded silently down the stairs behind him. The kitchen was lit only by the small light over the hob and the fairy lights in the window, giving the room a warm, festive glow. They perused the display of spirits on the counter.

‘What do you fancy?’ he asked.

She selected a bottle. ‘Gin and tonic, please.’

‘Coming right up.’

She leant against the counter while he fetched a couple of glasses and filled them with ice. He found the tonic in the fridge. ‘Slice of lemon?’ he asked.

‘Lime if you have it.’

He plucked a lime from the fruit bowl and cut a slice on the chopping board beside her.

‘Here.’ She took the lime from him. ‘Wedges are better.’

‘I forgot. You’re the expert at this,’ he said, relinquishing the knife.

She was as close as you can get without touching. Warmth radiated from her.

‘I was hoping to get the night off,’ she joked. She sliced a wedge and ran it around the rim of the glass. ‘Gives a nice zing when you sip.’

‘Aidan said you’re a student,’ he said, passing the gin. ‘What are you studying?’

She unscrewed the cap, poured them both a generous shot. ‘I just started an art foundation course in London.’

‘Oh cool. How’s it going?’

‘I love it.’ She topped the drinks up with tonic.

‘You must have been on a different course when I used to see you at the station, then?’

‘I was doing A levels back then – art, graphics, and English Lit.’

‘You had a lot of yellow feathers.’

‘I did! I caused chaos in the station that day, but then so did you…’ She held a glass out to him, her eyes on his, a little jolt of electricity as her fingers brushed his.

He lifted the glass to his lips, took a sip. Her persistent gaze flustered him for a moment before he realised she was simply waiting for his verdict on the drink.

‘And there’s the zing!’ he noted.

She sipped her drink and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. ‘Good, right?’

Will was suddenly hot. ‘Very good.’ But he hated gin – he only had one because she was. ‘So, what were you doing with all those feathers?’

‘Oh, they were for a piece inspired by the Greek goddess of dawn. She has these golden wings and a tiara, so I used jewels and feathers. I wanted it to be strong and feminine at the same time – a sort of tribute to my grandmother. God, that sounds pretentious…’ Even in the dim light, he could see her cheeks flush.

‘Not at all. It sounds amazing. I’d love to see your work.’

‘Maybe you can? I need to move a sculpture from one campus to another for an exhibition, but it’s too big to fit in a car. Aidan said you might help with your van?’

‘Of course. Anytime.’

‘Thank you.’ She touched his shoulder. Her hand was there for half a second, but he could still feel it.

‘Shall we sit?’

She nodded and followed him into the sitting room.

The dog was lying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. He raised his head and thumped his tail on the carpet. Emily sat beside him and scratched his ears. Will joined them on the floor, leaning his back against the sofa, legs outstretched.

‘Can you draw something for me?’ he asked.

She smiled and frowned at the same time. ‘Why?’

‘I just want to see how good you are. See what all the fuss is about.’

‘What shall I draw?’

‘I don’t know – something small.’

She chewed the inside of her cheek. ‘I’ll need a pen and paper.’

He went to the kitchen and came back with a pen and torn-off page of a small notepad he found in a drawer.

She scooted to the coffee table and began to scribble, turning her head this way and that as she worked. She’d been drawing for a few minutes when she said, ‘If I’m drawing something for you, you have to sing something for me.’

‘You’ve heard me sing before,’ he said. ‘I’ve never seen you draw.’

‘No song, no drawing.’ She shielded the paper with her hand.

‘But you’ve finished it now – just show me.’

‘Sing.’

‘Wow. You’re bossy.’

‘Sing!’

He groaned and grimaced.

‘Stop bellyaching – just do it.’

He took a breath. ‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas…’ he crooned in his best Frank Sinatra voice and stopped there.

‘That’s it? That’s all I get?’

‘Did you see the size of that bit of paper?’ he laughed. ‘Come on, a deal’s a deal.’

She went to hand him the paper, snatched it back, but let him have it the second time.

It was a delicate line drawing of a snowflake, prongs radiating out from the centre and branching off in all directions, little dots and curlicues filling the spaces.

‘Lovely.’ He held it out to her. ‘Can you sign it, please?’

Smiling, she quickly wrote at the bottom and returned it. ‘What are you going to do with it?’

He took out his wallet and tucked it carefully behind the notes.

‘I’m going to sell it obviously, it’ll be worth a fortune when you’re famous.’

She guffawed at that. A big belly laugh, too big for her slender frame. It was infectious.

He kept her talking for an hour, hanging on her every word until their glasses were empty and she said, ‘Well, I’d better turn in.’

They cleared away the glasses, and as they crept upstairs, they could hear Aidan’s snoring despite the closed door.

‘Are you sure you want to go in there?’ he asked.

She groaned. ‘Not really…’

‘Have my bed. I can sleep on the couch.’

‘No! You can’t do that. If he keeps me awake, I’ll go on the couch.’

He opened the bedroom door a few inches. Light from the landing cast a stripe across the bed. Aidan lay exactly where they’d left him, mouth open, gurgling and snorting.

Will was surprised how close Emily’s face was as they peered around the door. Too close to see all of it at once – he had to take in each feature individually. Those dark doe eyes, the freckles on the bridge of her nose, her soft lips, slightly parted.

‘Goodnight,’ she whispered.

‘Night.’

She smiled and slipped inside.

Will was staying in the tiny box room next door. He climbed into the bed he’d shared with Aidan as a kid. They’d slept top to toe until Aidan got too big and Will had to sleep on the floor.

As Will lay there watching the flashing lights around the window, he was acutely aware of them in bed together in the next room. Whenever he heard a thick snort from Aidan, it was a little more bearable. He couldn’t have handled the sound of anything else.