Page 12 of The Book Swap

“Excuse me, you dropped this.” A girl who looks a similar age to me chases after me at Bank Station, where I’m meeting Joel for a drink. She’s holding my bank card out toward me.

“Oh wow, thank you!” I reach out and take it.

She smiles at me, pushing her wavy blond hair over one shoulder. “That’s my good deed for the day done. Now I can celebrate, with wine.”

I laugh. She’s got warm brown eyes and when she smiles, she shows all her teeth. It’s on the edge of my lips to suggest I take her for wine as a thank-you. I stare too long at her face, trying to figure out how she’d react. A memory comes crashing into my head. Kelly, in year twelve. How she screwed her face up when I invited her to the leavers’ ball, saying, “What the hell made you think I’d want to go the ball with you?” I can picture the group she was with laughing as they walked away.

“Well. Thanks again,” I say, holding the card up. Maybe there’s a wave of disappointment that crosses the woman’s face, but maybe there isn’t. I’ve been wrong before.

Leaving the station, I cross the road toward the pub that sits next to Joel’s office. He’s so busy with work these days that it’s the only place it’s possible for me to see him. It’s a pain in the arse to get to from Penge, but once I move it’ll be easier. I’ve decided on Brixton. It’s got good transport links for when I need to get back to Frome, and every time I pass through it on my way back to Penge, it feels alive. Busy. Like things are happening there. It’s how I want to feel in London.

Pushing open the door to the pub, I approach the bar and order two pints. Joel will be late. He’s always late. I find a table and pull my phone out, checking my work emails. The contract I signed on my return to the office offered an eye-watering commission for bringing in my own clients for training, and a base salary that I could only have dreamed of when I left university with my Business Management degree and no idea how to use it. Everyone had thought I’d choose English Literature. Even me, until I panicked that if I failed at it, it left me with no real way to make money. I could end up in a Domino’s outfit, just like Dad. Instead, I googled degrees that guaranteed jobs after uni, and English didn’t feature. Business Management did. I switched last minute.

Joel strides through the door looking like he’s stepped out of a Hugo Boss advert, dressed in a sharp navy suit and a white shirt, cuff links sparkling under the bright lights. Every time I see him walk through a door, it reminds me of the way he sauntered into Frome College on the first day of year twelve, just a few months after my friendship with Bonnie and Erin ended, and became the only person to speak to me. His height—which he claims is quite an accomplishment for someone half-Malaysian—meant that not only did I have a mate, but that when I was with him, the bullies didn’t bother me. I was close to six foot, but skinny. Joel was six foot five, and built like an American football player. Unbeknownst to him, he became my defense. I haven’t let him leave my side since.

“All right, champ,” he says, approaching the table and raising his hand for a high five. I lift my hand and slam it forward. He moves his a second before I reach him, and grins. “Congrats on the promotion. Back in London a matter of weeks and he’s got a pay rise.”

“What can I say. I learned from the best.” I’m not even sure how much money Joel earns these days. If he told me it was seven figures, I wouldn’t be surprised. I nod toward the pint opposite me and he clutches his chest, pretending to stumble backward.

“Finally buying a round. I approve wholeheartedly of this new role.” I roll my eyes as he takes a seat, undoing the top button of his shirt and leaning back in his chair. “Welcome back. Gone awhile this time. How’s your mum?”

I nod. “Better, thanks.” I trust Joel more than almost anyone else in the world, but I still can’t find the words. Still end up saying so much less than I want to say.

“That’s good. Your dad?”

“Starting to learn all about his newfound fame in the digital era.”

Joel laughs, showing a row of perfect, white teeth. “That guy. May he never change.”

“I wouldn’t mind if he did a bit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

I shrug, downing some of my pint. I do mean it. It’s sad to see Dad living the life he does, when he was capable of so much more.

“What about Frome? Still a shithole?” Joel can never forgive his parents for taking him out of school in Orlando and moving him to our small town. Even with all the worst times I had there, I like Frome a lot more than Joel ever could.

“You’d know if you ever came home.”

“Frome isn’t my home.” Something passes across his face. He shakes his head. “So, it was good to be back?”

“It was.” For a moment I see Erin inside the bookshop, gazing lost at the self-help section, and wonder if she’s okay. “Always is, weirdly.” I stare down at the table. “How’s work?”

He grins and picks up his pint. “Good. Busy. Not getting too much sleep but it’s all part of my plan to retire by forty, so I’ll take it.” He swivels his shiny silver watch toward him. “Heading back there after this, actually.”

That’s why I gave up trying to match Joel. I haven’t got the stamina. Everything in his life revolves around being in the office and making money. It’s inspiring and exhausting all at once.

“You go to Bonnie’s thing last month?” he asks and I shake my head in mock disgust at him calling it a “thing.”

“You mean the memorial? The fundraiser held in loving memory of our ex–school friend?”

“Your ex–school friend. If you recall, by the time I arrived, you’d fucked things up so monumentally that Bonnie actually hated me without ever speaking to me, purely because I was mates with you.” He bites on his thumb. “You see Erin?”

I nod.

Of course Erin was back in town for the fundraiser. I was so consumed by my own thoughts, I’d not really considered why she might be in that bookshop until I was inside the Cheese & Grain and staring into her raging face. I forgot how she can make me feel. How one look in her eyes can take me back to the different memories of school. The better times, when I had Erin and Bonnie beside me. Friends to hang out with. A short but feisty forcefield to keep me safe.

Maybe I should have been embarrassed, back then, by how we became friends, but I was always too grateful. It was year eight and by that point the bullying had gone from verbal to physical. I was carrying a tray of food toward a table at the edge of the dining hall, and felt their presence before I saw them. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I sensed the footsteps behind me.

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