Page 77 of When We Were Young

Emily

The larger bauble glitters under the lobby lights with the two smaller ones hanging at varying heights behind it.

A garland of beads dangles in swooping loops, tying the whole piece together.

I climb the Christmas present steps and peer into the viewing hole.

The musical instrument models hang inside, rotating around, moving up and down like a carousel.

I skip down the steps and join Scott, who’s admiring the display from afar.

‘Pleased?’ he asks.

‘Very.’

We work through lunch to set up the photoshoot. The hotel staff bring us exquisite canapés, the kind you get at fancy functions, but also make an excellent working lunch if you eat enough of them.

Scott has booked a model ‘family’ for the photoshoot.

The adorable little girl he’s cast reminds me of Liv when she was small.

She climbs the steps and peers into the hole.

Her eyes light up and she exclaims something in Dutch and the photographer captures the magical moment with a well-timed click.

After the photoshoot, Scott suggests we go for a celebratory drink and the two of us wander the banks of the canal until we find a quaint bar overlooking a flower-festooned bridge.

‘Pierre seemed happy, didn’t he?’ I say as we sit at a table outside.

‘He loved it and we’re back on track with the Christmas campaign, thanks to you.’

A waiter comes over. I go to order a glass of wine but Scott interrupts, ‘No, we’re celebrating. Let’s get a bottle of champagne. We’ll have the Veuve Clicquot. And some fries, please.’

I laugh. ‘Classy.’

Our order arrives. The champagne and fries combo is pretty good.

He raises his glass. ‘Congratulations on the commission.’

‘Thanks.’ I clink my glass to his and can’t help smiling despite my terror at the prospect.

We chat about the installation, the photoshoot and Amsterdam. We go quiet and people-watch for a while. He sits back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him. He flashes me a killer smile and it almost floors me.

My phone buzzes on the table. I lean over it to check if it’s Liv. My face automatically unlocks the screen, revealing the message.

FHD: I miss you x

I don’t think Scott sees it, but I swipe my phone from the table and tuck it into my bag. FHD is great. He’s handsome, he’s a nice guy, he’s fun to be with.

But he’s not Scott.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been avoiding him. Ever since Liv told me about Will, everything has changed.

‘I need to tell you something,’ I blurt.

His relaxed expression dissolves. ‘You’re moving in with him, aren’t you?’ he says, his tone sharp.

‘What?’

‘I don’t understand how you can start seeing this guy and you didn’t even think about us.’

‘Us?’ Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

‘I can’t believe I encouraged you,’ he says. ‘But it seemed like you were finally coming out from the cloud you’d been under for years. I thought it would be good for you to go on a few dates. I didn’t expect…’

‘Scott––’

‘You were upset after Will died. I get that. I knew it would take time. A long time. And I was prepared to wait, but to be honest, it hurts that now you’re ready to be in a relationship, you didn’t even consider… me.’

‘You were interested in me back then?’

‘Of course I was.’ His eyes blaze. ‘I only took that course because you were doing it. I only organised that flat share in Balham because you were looking for a place. Every decision I’ve made in my adult life has been because of you.’

I’m stunned. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘I did. I told you exactly how I felt when you said you were pregnant.’

‘You weren’t thinking straight that day. I wasn’t thinking straight that day. Besides, that was more than sixteen years ago. Are you telling me you’ve felt that way all this time?’

‘Yes,’ he says without hesitation.

‘Why didn’t you say anything?’ I ask again.

‘Because you weren’t ready!’

‘But what about Katya?’

‘What about Katya?’

‘I can’t compete with a girl half my age, with smooth skin and pert… everything!’

‘She can’t compete with you at all.’

‘Oh, come on.’

‘I mean it. You’re my best friend, the mother of my child, but I always wanted more than that.’

‘But… that night… you felt sorry for me. You were being kind.’

‘Is that what you thought? That I felt sorry for you?’

‘What else would I think?’

He pauses, then asks, ‘That night, could it have been anyone? I mean, was I just in the right place at the right time?’

I consider this for a minute. ‘Honestly? I don’t know.’

He crosses his arms and looks away. ‘Great.’

‘I didn’t think of you in that way, but I wouldn’t have slept with just anyone. I felt safe with you, but beyond that, I didn’t plan it. It was an impulsive decision, an attempt to move on. I thought you didn’t get emotionally attached. I thought it was just sex for you… with anyone.’

‘You didn’t think of me that way?’ He holds my gaze a moment, then looks away.

‘I didn’t think you thought of me that way! All those girls you were seeing…’

‘I never said I was a monk . But I’ve never been serious with anyone. You know that. You and Miranda took the piss out of me saying I’d never been in love – heart of ice and all that. But I wasn’t interested in anyone else. It was always you.’

A torrent of emotion washes over me. Relief that my suspicions were correct, guilt over how lonely he must have been in those empty relationships, and a desperate longing for what could have been. ‘If we’d got together then, it wouldn’t have worked out.’

A flicker of his eyebrows tells me he doesn’t disagree.

‘You’re right,’ I add. ‘I wasn’t ready. For a long time. But that’s what I’m trying to tell you… I really believe I’m ready now.’

‘But you’ve only known this guy for five minutes––’

‘I’m not talking about him! Listen to me!’

He rubs his brow.

‘After Will,’ I say, ‘I was too sad to contemplate being with anyone else. I didn’t think I could be happy, so how could I make anyone else happy? But now, I think… I could make you happy.’

He stares at me. ‘Me?’

‘I think so. I think we could be happy now.’

‘Don’t play with me, Emily.’ He looks so vulnerable, like a little boy. How could I ever have thought he was emotionally detached?

I shake my head. ‘I’m not.’

He leans across the table; I meet him in the middle, and our lips touch. We’ve kissed before, but not like this. He stands up and pulls me close; his arms encircle me. All the turmoil of the last twenty-four hours ebbs away, and it’s being replaced by… relief? Joy? My chest is full.

He breaks away, a deep frown creases his forehead, and my anxiety is back in a flash.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘I need to tell you something,’ he says. ‘I can’t have this hanging over us.’ He looks like he’s taking a run-up to a hurdle.

‘What?’

He exhales. ‘Will came to see me a few days before he died.’

My heart stops beating.

‘He gave me a note to give to you because you weren’t taking his calls. Em, I’m so sorry, I didn’t give you the note.’

This hits me like a freight train. ‘Why not? What did it say?’

‘Jesus,’ he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m sorry, Em, I burned it. I didn’t know he would…’

‘Scott,’ I say, trying to keep my voice level, ‘tell me what the note said.’

‘I can tell you exactly what it said because I think about it every single day.’

I glare at him. If he doesn’t tell me, I’ll scream.

‘Will wanted to tell you your friend was in hospital – the drummer, Reu. He had an overdose and was in a coma.’ He’s talking so fast I can hardly keep up.

‘I didn’t believe him. I thought he was exaggerating or making it up to get you to talk to him.

He was being weird, hanging around outside, and then he broke into the flat.

I thought they were junkies. I was trying to protect you.

I shouldn’t have made that decision for you, but I did, and I’m sorry. Truly sorry––’

‘Stop talking.’

He eyes me like I’m a bomb about to go off.

Tears blur my vision, and the streetlights become crazy starbursts.

‘I fucked up…’ he says.

I can’t look at him. I stare into the distance.

‘You can’t forgive me, can you?’

I drag my gaze back to his face. His eyes are glassy, but my heart is a stone, cold and heavy in my chest.

‘Why should you when I can’t forgive myself?’ he continues.

I can only whisper this time, ‘Stop talking.’

He closes his mouth, but his eyes keep pleading with me.

‘Did he die?’ My voice is barely audible.

‘Sorry?’

‘Did Reu die?’

‘I don’t know, I’m sorry.’ He hangs his head.

‘I’m going for a walk.’

He steps towards me but stops short of touching me. ‘You can’t walk around a strange city on your own at night. It’s not safe…’ He fumbles in his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and throws some notes on the table.

‘I want to be alone.’ My voice sounds alien, distant.

I walk away.

Scott follows. ‘Em, please…’

I whip around to face him. ‘What? What do you want from me?’ My voice echoes off the quirky architecture and I feel the eyes of the hundreds of people along the waterside.

‘I know you want to be alone, but please let me follow. I’ll give you space. I just need to know you’re okay.’

‘Do what you want. I don’t care.’

I walk.

I weave through the tourists on the canal side, my mind racing.

What happened to Reu? I stop, pull out my phone and google ‘Will Bailey’s drummer’.

I’m blocking the path, so I step to one side.

The signal is terrible. Scott loiters in my peripheral vision.

As the page loads, a blue line crawls across the top of the screen.