Page 19 of When We Were Young

When Will pulled up in the car park of Emily’s college, she was waiting on the front steps as arranged. He raised his hand in greeting.

‘Thanks for doing this, Will,’ she said at his window.

‘No problem.’

It was a bit of a problem, though. Nigel wouldn’t let him take a couple of hours off, so he had to pretend he was stuck in traffic.

He parked the van and followed her up the steps through a doorway with the word ‘BOYS’ carved in the stone above it.

This must have been a school once. The vast church-like interior was divided into cubicles with partition screens.

The hum of conversations and faint music echoed around the space.

Emily led him through the maze of screens, all covered in sketches and paintings.

Students were standing around chatting or busy creating, ranging from trendies wearing thick, black-framed glasses to crusties with purple hair and piercings.

Will loved the place.

He got distracted by a sketch of a skull and had to run to catch her up.

‘This is me.’ She turned a slow circle in her cubicle.

Her artwork covered every inch of the screens enclosing her space.

‘Woah.’ Will stepped closer to examine a detailed watercolour of a shiny conker in its spiky shell. He traced his way from one gem to the next, murmuring his appreciation.

He stopped at a large charcoal sketch of a naked man and turned to Emily with raised eyebrows. ‘Must have been cold in here that day,’ he said.

Her giggle echoed in the space.

That’s when he noticed the sculpture on a table beside her.

‘Is this it?’ he asked.

She gave a bashful nod.

‘Wow.’ Twisted spirals of copper wire formed an organic shape with spikes protruding from it at all angles. He touched one of the points, ‘It’s beautiful. What is it?’

‘Pollen.’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s a pollen particle – here.’ She opened her sketchbook and turned to a spread pasted with photocopies from a science book. ‘This is what they look like under the microscope.’

‘Wow, who knew? Those beautiful little bastards make you sneeze.’

Her laugh rang out again. God, she was lovely. She couldn’t get any lovelier, but seeing her here, surrounded by her work – she was perfection.

‘Right,’ she said, pulling him back from his thoughts, ‘how shall we do this?’ She set the sketchbook down. ‘It’s not heavy, it’s just awkward.’

The structure had a board beneath it. ‘You take that end. Let’s lift on three.’

The sculpture slid a little until they levelled it.

‘Trust me to take something microscopic and make it massive,’ she said. ‘I’ll go backwards, as I know the way.’

As she turned this way and that to see behind her, Emily’s oversized sweater slipped from her shoulder and Will couldn’t drag his gaze from that triangle of perfect collarbone.

They tackled the set of steps back down to the car park slowly, and as they neared the van, Emily called out to a guy who was smoking nearby. ‘Hey Scott, give us a hand!’

Scott jogged over. He was dressed in a trendy skater brand – the trainers alone must have cost a fortune – but the entire outfit was splattered with paint.

‘Can you take Will’s end so he can open the van?’

Cigarette still hanging from his lips, Scott gave Will an upward nod before swapping places with him. Will swung the back doors open, and the three of them moved the sculpture inside like an injured animal.

‘I’d better stay in the back with it,’ said Emily. ‘Scott, do you mind coming to show Will the way?’

‘Sure.’ Scott took a last drag and flicked the cigarette away.

‘Will you be okay in there?’ asked Will. She nodded, so he shut her in.

As Scott climbed into the van beside him, Will was gutted. He’d been looking forward to riding with Emily. It was the reason he’d come all this way.

‘It’s not far. Go left out of here,’ said Scott. ‘So, you’re the boyfriend’s brother? The songwriter.’

‘Yeah.’

‘She’s always playing that song… what’s it called? “Fever”?’

‘Yeah, “Fever”.’ Will felt a sudden thrill. Not only that a stranger knew the name of one of his songs, but also that Emily had been listening to his music. Aidan must have given her a demo tape.

‘When’s your next gig? A few of us want to come along.’

‘Nothing planned at the mo, but I’ll let Emily know.’

‘Get in the right-hand lane here.’

A robotic melody rang from the cup holder – the mobile phone work gave him for sorting deliveries. It made him jump every time it went off. That would be Nigel, wanting to know where the hell he was. He ignored it.

‘Up here on the left,’ said Scott. ‘You can pull in there.’

Emily and the sculpture were both unharmed when Will opened the doors. She scrambled out and stretched.

‘Do you need help taking it inside?’ asked Will.

‘No, we’ve got it from here.’ Unexpectedly, she reached over and hugged him. ‘Thank you so much. I owe you one.’ He caught the scent of coconut in her hair.

Will cleared his throat. ‘No problem.’

He helped them slide the board out of the van and opened the door to the building for them.

‘See you soon!’ she called, walking backwards, and disappearing into a crowd of students.

He jumped in the van and checked the phone – two missed calls and a text from Nigel: Get back now. Delivery for Canbury.

Canbury Events was Izzy’s company. He turned the key and crunched into gear.

This could be awkward.

When Will pulled up outside Canbury Events, most of the lights were off.

He jumped out of the van and started unloading the boxes he’d picked up from the print shop.

He’d never seen Nigel angry before. Canbury needed these leaflets for an event first thing in the morning, so someone would have to wait for him to deliver after hours.

As he stacked the boxes onto his trolley, he hoped it wasn’t Izzy.

He wheeled the first trolley-load towards the door, peering in to see who was in reception. In the dim light, he could just make out a figure talking on the phone. He pressed the buzzer. The door hummed as it unlocked with no voice from the intercom.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner – the traffic was murder!’ he called to the figure.

Then he recognised Izzy’s voice as she spoke on the phone. It sounded like a personal call. She continued her conversation, and raising a finger, pointed out where to put the boxes.

As he shifted the boxes off the trolley, he suspected she was faking the call.

He used a box to prop the door open and went back to the van for the second trolley-load.

On his return, he kicked the box away from the door and it swung shut behind him.

She was off the phone and out from behind the reception desk, perched daintily against it, her legs crossed at the ankles, her hands resting on the countertop either side of her hips.

He imagined her arranging herself into that pose, and it brought a smile to his lips.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Hello.’ Her voice was neutral, maybe a touch of frost.

‘I’m sorry I’m late.’

She said nothing.

He propped the trolley upright and took off his gloves. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said, then her expression darkened. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I expected to hear from you after our date.’

Will did a mental calculation – it had been just over a week. That wasn’t long, was it? ‘Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve had some stuff going on that I needed to sort out.’ He wasn’t lying – Reu moving into his brother’s old room had completely distracted him, and he’d forgotten all about her.

‘Have you fixed the problem?’ she asked.

‘Almost. It’s a long story, but I was going to call you tonight.’

‘Were you?’ She sounded sceptical.

‘Yeah.’

‘And what were you going to say?’

He paused. ‘I was going to say… I’d like to see you again.’ Until then, he’d planned to say the exact opposite.

She raised her chin. ‘And what makes you think I want to see you again?’

He walked towards her and whispered into her ear, ‘Because of the noises you made last time.’

He stepped back. Her cheeks showed the slightest flush in the dim light.

‘Well?’ he asked.

‘Well, what?’

‘ Do you want to see me again?’

She tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘That depends. Where are you taking me?’

‘Hmm… How about a walk along the river, a few drinks, and maybe Thai food?’

She pursed her lips. ‘Not bad…’

‘Is that a “yes”?’

She paused. ‘Yes.’

‘Good. Are you by yourself? I can wait while you lock up, make sure you get to your car okay?’

‘It’s the least you can do, seeing as you’re the reason I had to stay late.’

Then he leant in and kissed her. First, on her neck by her ear, then pulling the collar of her shirt to one side, along her collarbone. It wasn’t Emily’s perfect collarbone he’d glimpsed earlier that day, but when he closed his eyes, he imagined it was.

His mum was cleaning up the kitchen when he got in. ‘You’re home late.’

‘Yeah, had an urgent delivery to do.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and took a bite.

‘I saved you some dinner. Do you want it now?’

‘I’ll have it later, thanks. Where’s Reu?’

She nodded to the garage door. ‘In there, bashing on two buckets and my washing basket.’

Will laughed. ‘Really?’

‘He’s been in there since he got in from school.’ She swept a cloth over the surfaces, catching invisible crumbs in her hand.

‘Mum, are you sure you’re okay with this?’ He sank his teeth into the apple again.

‘Well, I didn’t realise quite what we were getting into. I expect he’ll be here a while.’

‘You think?’

‘Sounds like the stepfather’s a right bastard. It’d be best for everybody if he’s out of their way for the time being. Reuben’s at an awkward age. They’re probably rubbing each other up the wrong way.’

‘If it gets too much, we’ll sort something else out.’

She stopped what she was doing and leant against the counter. ‘Despite all he’s been through, he’s a good kid. He’s so grateful to be here; it brings a tear to my eye. But he’s too thin. He’s not leaving my house until he puts weight on.’

‘Thanks Mum. You’re the best.’

She smiled and went back to her wiping. He dropped the core into the bin and headed for the garage.

‘Will?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Wipe your face – it’s covered in lipstick.’ Without looking up from what she was doing, she muttered, ‘Working late, my arse…’

He laughed and rubbed his sleeve across his face.

Rhythmic thumping passed through the garage door in fast, complicated beats. The kid was gifted. Will opened the door to find Reu sitting on the upturned washing basket, hammering away on an array of paint tins and buckets before him. He finished with a flourish, a light sheen of sweat on his face.

‘Sounds brilliant, Reu.’

Reu’s eyes dropped to his feet. ‘Thanks.’

Will picked up one of his guitars and hooked the strap over his head. ‘I’ve got an idea about how to get you a drum kit.’

‘What is it?’

‘Busking.’

Reu laughed. ‘Busking?’

‘Yeah, me on the guitar, and you on the, er… buckets.’

‘You think we can make enough money for a drum kit?’

‘I reckon this Saturday we can make enough for a down-payment. Then three, maybe four more Saturdays and we’ll have paid it off.’

‘No way.’

‘Trust me, this will sound great.’

Will was wrong about the busking.

They made enough money to pick up a second-hand drum kit that first day, and it only took one more Saturday to pay it off.

They had to prise Reu off his new kit to come into the house for meals or to go to school.

Will was in awe of Reu’s talent and dedication.

It inspired him, and the songs kept coming.

Matty came over every other night to jam.

Playing together was a buzz. Even Matty had to admit – something was happening, something special.