Page 47 of When We Were Young

When Emily arrived, Ed, the tour manager, was waiting for her in the hotel lobby.

‘How is he?’ she asked.

‘He’s sleeping at the moment.’

‘Did the doctors say what’s wrong with him?’

‘He’s suffering from exhaustion.’

‘Exhaustion?’

‘Well, it’s a virus, but when you’re burned out, you pick up bugs more easily. He’s been working hard. We all have.’

Emily wasn’t going to argue, but it was obvious to her who was to blame for Will’s condition – it was the tour manager in charge of his schedule.

‘I’ve got you a separate room for now,’ said Ed. ‘So you can freshen up and have something to eat without disturbing him. The doctors want him to rest his voice, so whatever you do, don’t let him speak.’

‘Okay.’

‘Not that he could speak even if he wanted to.’

Ed showed her to her room and told her he’d call her when Will was awake.

It was frustrating, after all these months, to be this close to Will but not allowed to see him.

She waited hours, but Ed didn’t call. She put on the hotel slippers, marched down the corridor to Ed’s room, and knocked on his door.

‘Look, this is ridiculous,’ she said when he answered. ‘Let me see him.’

Ed sighed, disappeared into his room, and returned a moment later with the key card to Will’s room. ‘If you need me, dial six, then my room number – 1047. Remember, don’t let him speak.’

‘I won’t,’ she promised, taking the card.

At Will’s door, she swiped and pushed on the beep.

Across the room, Will’s body was concealed under the covers.

She kicked off the slippers, crept over and climbed onto the bed.

The movement caused him to stir, but he didn’t wake.

She lay down beside him. The bedside lamp lit his face, his long lashes casting shadows down his cheeks.

Girl’s eyelashes – completely wasted on him.

A few days’ stubble darkened his chin. She took in every millimetre of his face – a luxury after all these months.

Her throat tightened and tears stung her eyes.

She stroked his cheek, ran her fingers through his hair and across his jawline.

Those pretty eyelashes fluttered and lifted.

He went to say something, but she put a finger to his lips.

‘Shh,’ she said. ‘Don’t speak.’

He gestured for her to come under the covers, so she got in the bed and pulled him close; his head was hot against her neck.

‘I’ve missed you so much.’ She breathed in the smell of him.

He whispered something, but it came out as a strangled rasp.

‘Shh!’ she said. ‘Ed will kill me!’

He mimed writing and pointed to the bedside table behind her.

She propped him up on pillows and handed him the pen and notepad.

‘How do you feel?’ she asked. He was pale.

He wrote: like shit and gave a wry smile.

She felt his forehead. He had a fever. ‘Have you had any drugs recently?’

He shrugged.

Emily reached for the bedside phone and dialled Ed. He told her where to find the medicine and how much to give. Will took the tablets, and as she settled beside him on the bed, he handed her a torn-off page from the notepad.

I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you at the airport. I wanted to run towards you in slow motion with my arms open.

She smiled. ‘This isn’t quite how I imagined it would be after all this time.’

He mouthed ‘sorry’ and started scribbling again.

Thank you for coming. I hope Ed didn’t freak you out when he called and told you I was ill.

‘He told me they’d signed you off work for two weeks and you’d kill him if he didn’t arrange a visit. But I think he just wants a babysitter.’

You’re probably right. Sorry about that. Where’s your nurse’s outfit? He wiggled his eyebrows.

‘Ed wouldn’t allow any funny business, even if you were up for it.’

I’m up for it.

‘No you’re not. Look at you, you can’t even hold your head up. You should sleep.’

It’s not fair. I hadn’t planned on sleeping much once you got here.

But he didn’t resist when she took the notepad and pen from him.

As she slipped under the covers, she realised this was the first time they had ever been in a double bed together. The space was a luxury she didn’t want. She preferred it when they were closer. Everything was strange.

‘Goodnight.’ She kissed him on the forehead.

‘Love you,’ he squeaked. He sounded like Micky Mouse on helium.

Emily had six days in New York, and Will was in bed for all but the last two. Whenever Will was sleeping or had doctor visits, she would go out and explore the city, documenting her days with her camera or in her sketchbook.

She took most of her meals in the room with him, but occasionally he would insist she went to a restaurant with Matty and Reu while Ed stayed behind to babysit.

It was a relief when he showed signs of improvement, but even when he was allowed to talk, he was told to use his voice sparingly.

On her penultimate day, Will had a long scribbling argument with Ed about going out for the day with Emily. Ed eventually agreed to a short walk in Central Park. It was only two blocks away, but Will was tired by the time they got there, so they found a bench by a pond and watched the world go by.

He wanted to take her to the Museum of Modern Art before Ed called out a search party, so they hailed a cab, though it wasn’t far. When they got there, he was running on fumes.

‘What do you want to see the most?’ his voice was husky. He didn’t sound like Will.

‘Van Gogh’s Starry Night ,’ she said without hesitation, so they headed straight for it. The painting was popular. They had to sit on a nearby bench until the crowd thinned out. They got the painting to themselves for maybe two whole minutes, but those two minutes were magical.

‘Have you ever been anywhere where you’ve seen stars like that?’ she asked him.

‘Uncle Brian’s,’ he croaked.

‘I saw the most amazing stars on holiday in Malta when I was a kid. It felt like they were right there, not millions of miles away. And if you tiptoed, you could touch them.’

‘I love the swirls,’ he whispered, threading his fingers through hers.

‘The paint looks like icing on a cake. You can almost taste it.’

Will cleared his throat. ‘He only sold one painting, right?’

‘That’s the legend – that he only sold one painting in his lifetime.

The truth is, they don’t know exactly how many, but he did sell a few and some he exchanged for food.

But that was only a tiny portion of his almost one thousand finished works.

So yeah, he never got the recognition he deserved. Wasn’t around to see his success.’

Will eyed the painting, solemnly. ‘Imagine creating something so beautiful and no one wanting it,’ he rasped. ‘How could you keep painting?’ Since he’d started to recover, he hadn’t spoken so many words at once. It seemed to take it out of him.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s get you back.’

Ed allowed them to go out for dinner on her last night. They waited ages in the lobby for a cab, then three pulled up at once. A woman in shiny thigh-high boots stepped from the first cab, shrieking with laughter. The passengers from all the cabs seemed to know each other.

‘Is that Christie Blackmore?’ Emily whispered to Will.

He gave a little shrug.

The woman headed straight for them. ‘Will!’ she cried. ‘How are you? Ed told me you’ve been laid up.’

Will went to speak, but his voice cracked and set him off coughing.

‘He lost his voice,’ Emily explained.

‘Oh, no!’ said Christie. ‘Rest that gorgeous voice of yours. Drink honey and lemon. But make sure the water’s warm. Not hot or cold – warm .’

Christie turned to Emily. ‘You must be…?’

‘Emily,’ she said, offering her hand.

‘Yes, Emily. Will’s told me all about you.’ Christie gave her hand a squeeze.

‘He has?’ Emily glanced sideways at Will. He was smiling, but not with his eyes.

‘Yes. So lovely to put a face to a name. And what a beautiful face it is. No wonder he’s so enamoured with you.’

Emily felt her cheeks bloom. ‘Oh, thank you.’

‘Where are you off to?’ Christie seemed genuinely interested.

‘We have reservations at Mildred’s in Greenwich Village,’

‘Oh, I love Mildred’s! Tell Paolo I sent you – he’ll look after you. Have a wonderful evening.’ As she walked away, she called back over her shoulder. ‘And Will, remember…’

Will raised his eyebrows and swallowed.

‘ Warm water.’

He nodded, and she strode off to join her waiting entourage.

‘Oh my God!’ said Emily as they climbed into the cab. ‘You never told me you met Christie Blackmore!’

‘I forgot,’ he wheezed. He was sweaty and grey.

‘Are you okay? We don’t have to go if you don’t feel good.’

He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. ‘I’m okay.’

It was awkward eating in a fancy restaurant with Will unable to talk much. She asked about the recording sessions, but the brief answers were becoming tedious for them both.

‘So, how did you meet Christie Blackmore?’ she asked.

‘Studio. Same label.’

‘She’s naturally beautiful, isn’t she? Wasn’t her sister a supermodel? Imagine looking like that and being talented as well. That’s hardly fair, is it? And so nice ––’

‘I feel rough,’ he blurted.

‘Do you want to go?’

He drew his knife and fork together and pushed his plate away. ‘Finish your food first.’

They stood side by side at the sink in the tiny hotel bathroom, brushing their teeth.

Emily looked at Will in the mirror. This was the first time he’d been able to brush his teeth standing up.

He caught her eye and smiled, mouth foaming.

He leant over to spit and rinse, then moved out of the way so she could do the same.

When she straightened up, he was standing behind her, eyeing her reflection.

He put his hands on her hips and began kissing her neck.

She watched in the mirror as he slipped the straps of her nightdress from her shoulders and let it fall to her waist. He ran his fingertips over her breasts, sending tingles down her spine.

‘Feeling better?’ she asked his reflection.

‘Mm-hmm.’

‘About time.’ She turned around and kissed him hard on the mouth.

‘I need to lie down, though,’ he said, leading her to the bed.