Page 73 of When We Were Young

‘Promise me you’ll look after her,’ said Miranda.

‘I told you I will,’ said Scott.

‘Don’t leave her on her own.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Don’t let her drink too much.’

‘Okay.’

‘Encourage her to get some fresh air. Go for a walk or something.’

‘Stop worrying. I’ve got this. It’s less than twenty-four hours. You’ll be back before you know it. Go be an aunt.’

‘Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m an aunty! You’ve got my parents’ number. Call if you need to – any time. Right, I’m off.’

‘Bye, Aunt Miranda.’

He closed the door, wandered down the hall and hovered by Emily’s doorway. It was still ajar, as per Miranda’s instructions.

‘You okay, Em?’

‘No.’

‘Can I get you anything?’

‘Has she gone?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Get me some wine.’

Scott sighed, ‘If you come to the off licence with me, we’ll get your wine.’

No answer.

‘Come on. I’ll run you a bath. Get dressed and we’ll walk down the road. We’ll be back in no time with that wine.’

She didn’t refuse, so he went to the bathroom, put the plug in the bath, and turned on the taps. He was going through all the bottles on the ledge, trying to find something that would make bubbles.

‘The pink one.’ Her voice behind him made him jump. She’d hardly been out of bed the last few days. He grabbed the pink bottle and poured a glug into the stream of water, and a mass of bubbles began multiplying.

‘I need the loo,’ she said. Her voice was hoarse.

She was only wearing an oversized t-shirt, and he saw how much weight she had lost in a few days.

‘I’ll get out of your way.’

They swapped places in the doorway, and he closed the door behind him. Miranda had deliberately broken the lock a couple of days ago. Neither of them liked the idea of Emily being alone and unreachable.

He loitered in the hallway until he heard a flush.

She opened the door and went to head back to her room. He didn’t fancy his chances of getting her out of bed again.

‘Look, why don’t you get in the bath now – it’s half full?’

Before she could argue, he took her by her shoulders and turned her around.

He was glad she was facing the other way when she pulled her t-shirt over her head. He got a brief glimpse of her protruding ribs before dashing off to find a clean towel.

‘Here’s a towel and some clean clothes.’ He dropped them inside the bathroom door.

‘Thanks.’

He smoked two cigarettes on his balcony while she soaked, then returned to encourage her to wash and dress through the door.

When she finally emerged, exhausted and bedraggled, he sat her on his bed and gently combed the knots from her hair.

Outside, the sunlight made her wince. She stood there blinking as if it was hurting her eyes and skin until he took her elbow and ushered her along.

He pointed out a sycamore seed spiralling to the ground, but her gaze remained unfocused, her expression blank.

The only time she showed any reaction was when he came out of the off licence carrying a single bottle of wine.

She scolded him and sent him back for another.

He suggested they watch a film and got her settled on his bed with a glass of wine.

They watched four films in a row. Sometimes she slept, sometimes she stared at the screen, expressionless.

She drank quite a lot of wine, but he got her to eat three mouthfuls of scrambled eggs.

He was making good progress today. Miranda would be pleased.

When he was nodding off himself, he suggested they go to bed. She got up and stretched, and he followed her out to the hallway to go and brush his teeth, but he almost bumped into her when she stopped and turned.

‘I don’t want to be alone,’ she said. ‘Is it okay if I sleep in your room?’

‘Of course.’

She hesitated before asking, ‘Will you hold me?’

‘Okay.’

He stepped towards her, and she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him. He brought his arms around her, returning the pressure. She felt like a bag of bones.

They stood in the hall like that for a long time.

She nuzzled her face into his neck, and he could feel moisture. Was she crying? He went to pull away, but she squeezed tighter. Her lips brushed his neck, soft, damp kisses sending tingles down his spine.

‘Em—’

‘Shh,’ she whispered, her breath hot in his ear.

He untangled her arms from around his neck. ‘Emily, you’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re doing.’

‘I’m not drunk.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘And I know exactly what I’m doing.’

She stepped towards him. Her lips were on his neck again and her fingers on his belt.

‘We shouldn’t…’ he said gently.

‘Don’t you want to?’

He groaned. ‘You don’t want this, you’re just—’

‘I do. I want this,’ she said. ‘Please.’

It hurt so much to see her this way.

But it was far worse knowing it was all his fault she was so sad and broken.

Scott woke to the sound of the front door opening.

Emily didn’t stir beside him. She lay motionless in a deep sleep, in his bed. What time was it? 11 a.m. It must be Miranda back from her sister’s. He jumped out of bed and pulled on his jeans. Fuck .

In the hallway, Miranda was standing by the door to Emily’s empty room.

‘Where is she?’ she hissed.

‘She’s in my room.’

‘What’s she doing in your room?’

‘She didn’t want to be alone so—’

‘What the fuck, Scott?’ she whisper-shouted.

‘Shh – you’ll wake her!’

‘Oh my God – you fucking arsehole!’ She spoke through gritted teeth. ‘You were supposed to look after her. Not take advantage of her.’

‘We just—’

‘Have you got any idea what she’s going through? You couldn’t keep your dick in your pants for one night?’

‘It’s not what it looks like. Honestly—’

Her laugh was bitter. ‘I can’t wait to hear this!’

‘I did look after her. I got her out of bed, got her to take a bath. And we went for a walk. That’s more than you’ve got her to do.’

‘What else did you get her to do? Eh?’

‘Miranda––’

‘Her boyfriend just died , Scott. She’s not thinking straight, you fucking moron.’

‘We didn’t do anything!’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘I swear. We didn’t do anything. I’m not a complete scumbag – I love her!’ he blurted.

She laughed. ‘Don’t give me that shit!’

‘I do! I have for years! She’s the reason I took this course. The reason I organised this flat share.’

Miranda’s smirk disappeared. ‘Oh, my God. You do, don’t you?’

He rubbed a hand down his face. ‘Yeah.’

She shook her head. ‘You delusional bastard. You know she’ll never love you back, don’t you?’

‘Why not?’ he asked, but he knew the answer.

‘I want to go home,’ Emily’s voice came from behind him.

She was standing in his doorway wearing one of his t-shirts, more beautiful than ever despite the tousled hair and hollow cheeks.

And in that moment he knew Miranda was right.