Page 57 of When We Were Young

Emily opened the door to the flat as quietly as she could, but before she’d even taken off her coat, Scott was in the hall wearing just his boxers.

‘Shit, you scared me!’ he said. ‘What are you doing back? I thought you were away until Monday.’

‘I was. It just… it didn’t go very well…’ Her voice splintered.

‘Hey.’ He was there in an instant, arms around her even though she was soaking wet, and he was half naked. ‘What happened?’

It was hard to get the words out. ‘We broke up.’

He pulled away, his hands on her shoulders. ‘Oh shit,’ he said simply.

She sniffed. ‘Yeah.’

‘Come on, let’s get you out of this wet coat.’ He helped her shrug it off and looked at his watch. ‘It’s 3:30 a.m., do we want alcohol or tea?’

Behind him, a scantily clad girl dashed across the hall from Scott’s room to the bathroom.

‘Oh no,’ Emily waved a hand. ‘You have a guest. I’ll be all right. Just need to pull myself together.’

Scott glanced over his shoulder. ‘Flatmate in crisis trumps that.’ He flicked on the kitchen lights and ushered her to a seat at the table.

Miranda appeared bleary-eyed in the doorway. ‘What’s going on?’

Emily went to speak but her voice failed her.

‘They broke up,’ said Scott and passed her in the doorway as if they were a tag team. Miranda rushed over, gave her an awkward standing hug, then pulled up a chair. ‘What happened?’

The concern in Miranda’s eyes brought tears to her own and Emily couldn’t speak. Patiently, Miranda waited for her to compose herself, gently rubbing her arm. Then Scott returned – fully dressed now – and began filling the kettle.

‘Scott, you knob,’ said Miranda, ‘what are you doing? Can’t you see she needs a proper drink?’

God, Emily was glad she had these two.

Scott poured them all shots of vodka, but there were no mixers in the flat, so he diluted them with water. It tasted foul, but the burn as it went down was strangely soothing.

Emily filled them in on the events of that day – the drive to Wales, the conversation with Matty, the row with Will, and driving all the way back again. Miranda kept butting in with foul-mouthed insults for Matty and Will. Scott listened quietly.

‘Did I do the right thing?’ Emily looked from Miranda to Scott. ‘I don’t know if I did the right thing.’

‘Of course you did the right bloody thing,’ said Scott.

‘Look,’ said Miranda, ‘What do you want? From your life, I mean?’

Emily lifted her eyes to Miranda’s.

‘You’re always sacrificing yourself for Will,’ Miranda continued. ‘Travelling to wherever he is. He didn’t come to your exhibition.’ She stabbed a finger into the table. ‘That was your Glastonbury – where was he then? You’ve got to think of yourself from now on and what you want.’

Scott pursed his lips and nodded his agreement.

‘Wait, I have something to show you both.’ Emily fetched the letter from her bag and they moved their glasses so she could lay it on the table.

‘You got it!’ cried Miranda almost immediately, as though she had been expecting it.

Scott tilted his head to read from his position at the table.

‘We are delighted to inform you that your application has been successful…’ He looked up briefly, a question in his eyes.

‘We look forward to welcoming you, on the conclusion of your studies, to our two-year residency programme… You will have twenty-four-hour access to your own light, spacious studio in the heart of Amsterdam… Amsterdam?’

Emily nodded, a weak smile breaking through her misery for a moment.

‘Two years?’ he asked, eyes wide.

Miranda elbowed him in the ribs. ‘We’re going to have some wild weekends in the Dam!’

‘You knew about this?’ he asked.

‘I helped her with the application.’

‘Wow.’ Scott took a swig of vodka.

‘I didn’t want to tell anyone in case I didn’t get it,’ Emily explained. ‘And when I got the letter this morning, I wasn’t even sure I’d accept. I thought it might mean the end of me and Will…’ Oh God, she was crying again.

‘Imagine if you’d turned it down for that fucker.’ Miranda poured them all another shot, not bothering with the water this time.

‘Imagine choosing Christie Blackmore over you,’ added Scott.

They sat drinking until the pale morning light streamed in through the window and Miranda held back Emily’s hair as she brought up the meagre contents of her stomach.

She didn’t want to go out the following weekend, but Miranda and Scott insisted.

They dragged her to their old haunt, an indie disco at a basement club on Wardour Street.

They drank and danced and yelled in each other’s ears and everything was fine until the DJ played ‘Fever’ and Scott caused a scene at the DJ booth.

Before they knew it, a burly bouncer was ejecting them onto the street, so they called it a night and picked up kebabs on the way home.

When they got in, the answering machine was flashing.

‘Don’t listen to it,’ warned Miranda. ‘Just delete it.’

There were four messages altogether – all from Will.

Miranda and Scott stood by, nodding their encouragement as Emily deleted each one without listening beyond the first word.

They ate in the kitchen and drank the rest of the vodka – this time diluting it with a can of Coke from the kebab shop split three ways.

‘How long does it take to get over someone?’ asked Emily.

‘Five minutes when they’ve spent the night with Christie Blackmore.’ Miranda bit into her kebab.

‘Fair point,’ said Emily. It still stung, but she was getting used to the idea now.

Whenever she wanted to call Will, she thought about the two of them together, and it strengthened her resolve.

‘What do you think they did?’ she asked, poking the wound.

‘He said he didn’t touch her, and they didn’t kiss. ’

‘Hand job?’ suggested Miranda.

‘Nah, blow job,’ said Scott.

Emily dropped her kebab onto its paper wrapper. No, she wasn’t ready to hear that. ‘How long did it take you to get over Gemma?’ she asked Miranda.

‘I dunno, couple of months? But we hadn’t been together as long as you.’

‘How long were you together?’ Scott asked Emily.

‘Three and a half years.’

They ate in silence for a minute.

‘I tell you what helped,’ said Miranda. ‘Shagging someone else.’

Emily laughed. Scott lifted his eyebrows.

‘Seriously, it helps! Especially if you’ve been cheated on. It’s like revenge or levelling the score or whatever. That night with – jeez I don’t even remember her name – was like therapy.’

‘You had a one-night stand after Gemma? You never told me!’

‘A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.’

‘Never stopped you before,’ said Scott.

Emily picked a slice of cucumber from her kebab. ‘I don’t think I could do that.’

‘You need to be more like Scott,’ Miranda joked. ‘Just don’t get emotionally attached.’

‘Hey!’ Scott pretended to be offended.

‘He doesn’t understand heartbreak,’ Miranda told Emily as if he wasn’t there. ‘I bet he’s never even been in love.’

Emily and Miranda looked to Scott for confirmation. ‘What?!’ he cried. ‘I’ve been in love. Of course I’ve been in love. I’m twenty-four.’

‘Oh yeah?’ teased Miranda. ‘With who?’

Scott’s ears went pink. ‘I…’

‘Name one person.’ Miranda gave Emily a knowing look and drummed her fingers on the table as Scott floundered.

‘Okay, okay.’ Scott raised his palms in defeat. ‘I have a heart of ice.’

They stayed up for one more drink before heading off to bed.

Emily’s mind wandered to Will, as it often did when she had nothing else to think about.

What had he said in those now-deleted messages?

She longed to hear his voice but was ashamed to admit it in front of her flatmates.

She missed Will now more than she ever had when he was away on tour.

All evening, she had been trying to get a minute alone, maybe have a little cry, but Miranda was there whenever she went to the loo, banging on the cubicle door, yelling for her to hurry up.

Maybe it was the vodka muddling her thoughts, but she wasn’t sure she’d made the right decision at all. It hurt too much.

The more she thought about the whole Christie Blackmore thing, the more she thought she could understand what happened.

It was true – their situation was unique; most normal relationships didn’t have to survive the temptation of groupies every night.

And he had shown restraint holding out as long as he did.

Could she have done the same? Lonely, far from home, with it being offered on a plate, no strings attached? Maybe not.

But the thing that made her feel worse. The thing that kept her awake every night since the split was the decision she had made on the drive to Wales.

With the windscreen wipers swiping back and forth, she’d planned what she would say.

She practised saying it aloud over and over throughout the journey.

Those words echoed in her mind now. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.

It’s time I followed my dreams, not yours.

If I don’t do this now, I’ll regret it forever.

’ But she hadn’t needed those words after all, because Will had made it easy for her.

And she couldn’t sleep knowing how he must be suffering, thinking it was all his fault.

She was plagued by that last image of him as she drove away, the pained look, the way his arms dropped to his sides.

But what’s done is done. Emily needed to draw a line under it once and for all. She took a deep breath, threw off the covers, and jumped out of bed.