Page 62 of When We Were Young

Sleeping with Scott hadn’t had the transformative effect Emily hoped it would.

She felt as miserable as ever. Fortunately, he hadn’t mentioned it and they both carried on as if it never happened.

But her sombre mood didn’t go unnoticed.

Miranda suggested they go to the student union bar after college, and Scott rallied a group of their friends to join them.

Emily said little and although she had a few drinks, she remained in control and waited until a respectable hour before saying she was heading home.

Miranda persuaded her to stay for one more and Scott got another round in before they’d finished that one, so they didn’t get home any earlier.

‘Who wants toast?’ Miranda asked as she opened the door to their flat. They hadn’t eaten all night. Miranda flipped the light switch and headed to the kitchen.

‘Me,’ said Scott, following her.

‘Please.’ Emily sat at the little table while Miranda examined the bread slices for mould before slotting them into the toaster and Scott made tea. They chatted about their evening and their course as they ate.

Emily stood up and poured herself a glass of water. ‘Right, I’m off to bed. Night.’

‘Me too,’ said Miranda, following her to the hall. ‘Jesus, what’s that on the carpet? Scott, have you spilt Bolognese again?’

‘I haven’t had any Bolognese.’

‘What’s that then?’

Scott went to look. ‘I dunno – it wasn’t me.’

‘There’s a trail of it coming from your room.’

Emily was staying out of it. She nudged her bedroom door open.

That was odd – the light was on. As the door opened wider, she saw a figure lying on her bed with its back to her.

She let out a shrill yelp and the glass of water dropped to the carpet with a thud.

She stumbled backwards, bumping into Scott as he came up behind her.

‘What the fuck?’ Scott put himself between Emily and the stranger. ‘Get the torch from my bedside,’ he whispered.

The intruder remained motionless despite the sound of their voices.

‘What is it?’ asked Miranda as Emily pushed past her in the hall.

In Scott’s room, there was blood all over the carpet.

Emily’s heart thudded, her brain unable to compute what she was seeing.

She was expecting to find a torch on the bedside table, but there was only a magazine and an alarm clock.

She rifled through the drawers, but there was no torch.

What did he want a torch for, anyway? What was he going to do, dazzle the intruder to death?

Then she spotted a torch on the floor by the bed.

It was a foot long and when she picked it up, it weighed a tonne. It was a huge metal truncheon.

Miranda was whispering into the phone as Emily passed her on the way back.

She handed Scott the torch, and he gestured for her to stay back. He entered her room cautiously, creeping around her bed, holding the torch two-handed like a baseball bat. The figure was lying on its side, perfectly still.

Scott prodded it with the torch. It rocked and returned to its original position.

‘Shit!’ cried Scott. ‘Call an ambulance!’

‘What––’

‘Call an ambulance!’ he barked. ‘Now!’

Emily relayed the message to Miranda who was already on the phone to the emergency services.

Scott rolled the figure onto its back.

‘Will? Will, can you hear me? Oh, mate…’

Emily rushed to Scott’s side. Will lay motionless on her bed. Her heart stalled and she dropped to her knees. His eyes were closed, his skin pale, a blood-soaked towel wrapped around his arm. ‘Will, wake up!’

His cheek was cold and clammy.

‘Is he breathing?’ asked Scott.

Emily put her ear to Will’s mouth, but all she could hear was her own heartbeat thumping in her head. ‘I don’t know! I can’t hear anything!’

Miranda was in the doorway holding the phone. ‘They want to know what’s wrong.’

‘He’s unconscious, uh… lost a lot of blood. A wound on his arm,’ said Scott. ‘Here, let me try.’ Scott bent over Will’s face and listened. ‘Watch his chest.’

After a few agonising seconds, they noticed a subtle swell in Will’s ribcage. ‘He’s breathing. Just,’ said Scott. ‘Tell them to hurry!’

‘Will, wake up! It’s Emily.’ Tears were streaming down her face now.

‘The ambulance is coming.’ Miranda handed Scott a scarf. ‘They said to tie something around it and put him in the recovery position.’

Scott wound the scarf around the towel and tied it in a tight knot.

Emily pulled Will onto his side with his good arm and arranged his knee so he wouldn’t roll. ‘Is that right?’

‘Yeah, that’s it,’ said Scott.

‘Will? Can you hear me? It’s Emily, wake up… please .’

She pulled at the neck of his t-shirt, stretching it even though it wasn’t tight. ‘What should we do now?’ she asked Miranda.

‘I don’t know, that’s all they said. They’ll be here in a minute.’

‘I’ll look out for them,’ said Scott.

Miranda took Scott’s place by the bedside. Emily was on her knees, shaking uncontrollably.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I love you. Hang on. Just a few more minutes.’

It felt like hours before they heard the siren.

Suddenly, paramedics were in the flat, barking orders, shouting, ‘Will? Will? Can you hear me?’

Emily and Miranda moved out of the way into the kitchen and a moment later, they carried Will past on a stretcher. Emily felt Miranda’s arm around her shoulders.

‘Where are you taking him?’ asked Emily.

‘St George’s,’ replied the paramedic.

‘Can I go with him?’

‘Only one of you.’

On the landing, two police officers were talking to Scott. She followed the paramedics as they manoeuvred Will’s stretcher down the stairs.

She waited on the pavement while they put him in the back of the ambulance. Miranda brought her a jacket and her bag. ‘We’ll meet you there, okay?’

The paramedics wouldn’t allow Emily in the back with Will. She had to ride in the front wearing a seatbelt, the late-night London traffic parting in front of her, her head full of questions and her heart heavy with guilt. Oh God, please let him be okay .

Emily was still waiting in the A&E department when Miranda arrived with two police officers. Miranda held her hand, while the officers asked her an endless stream of confusing questions.

‘You okay?’ Miranda asked once they had gone.

She nodded. ‘Where’s Scott?’

‘He had to stay at the flat, his bedroom window’s smashed. What was Will doing?’

Emily sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

The sliding doors at the entrance swooshed open.

Emily recognised the family that came in. ‘Oh, shit…’

‘Who’s that?’ asked Miranda.

‘Will’s parents.’ Emily had not seen them since that Christmas Day years ago. She stood up and walked towards them.

‘You!’ cried Will’s mother, stopping Emily in her tracks. ‘What have you done?’

‘I—’

‘What happened?’ Mary Bailey’s voice shook with anger.

‘I… I don’t know.’

‘What do you mean you don’t know? You’re his girlfriend, aren’t you?’

‘Not anymore…’

‘Ha!’ Mary’s laugh was bitter. ‘I knew it wouldn’t last! What are you doing here, then?’

‘He broke into my flat. He cut himself on the glass. We found him unconscious and bleeding.’

‘Well, I hope you’re happy with yourself. I hope you can sleep at night. Breaking that boy away from his family and driving him to… this.’

‘Mum,’ said Aidan, taking her by the shoulders. ‘Leave it.’ Aidan’s eyes met Emily’s for the briefest of moments before he steered his mother away.

Mary allowed him to usher her towards the reception desk before turning back. ‘You’re not wanted here. Leave him alone. Leave us all alone!’

Emily stepped forward. ‘But––’

‘No! Get out of here!’

‘I’ll wait over––’

‘Get out! ’ roared Mary.

Emily stood paralysed as Aidan coaxed the woman away. Will’s father’s glare was bright with hatred.

Miranda came up beside her. ‘Come on, let’s wait outside.’