Page 67 of The Reunion

Baby, where’d you go? Starting to get kind of bored without you …

Is everything okay? You’ve been gone ages, can’t find you …

Explain to me why I’m stuck talking to YOUR friends when you’re NOWHERE to be …

Where are you?

Did you leave???? Shaun I swear to God if you’ve left me at this naff little school reunion …

Seriously, this isn’t funny, let me know you’re okay at least …

I swipe away from them all, wondering if I have Bryony’s number or if I’m just as well to call Josh or Hassan, but Steph lurches towards me like she’s about to smack my phone out of my hands, eyes huge, agitation twisting her mouth.

‘Are you mad? You can’t do that! We can’t – you’ll …’ She draws a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. ‘We don’t need to involve anybody else in this; it’ll just cause a scene, and you know what everybody’s like when they get a whiff of drama. People thought Mara was a drug dealer just because one rollie cigarette fell out of her bag that time.’

I don’t point out that that was years ago, and we were kids back then. The way tonight’s going … Well, maybe Steph’s got a point.

And again, I wonder if it would be the worst thing if rumours went around. They wouldn’t be that far off the mark, even if we never actually kissed, would they? But I know, rationally, I’m not being fair or sensible, and we need to be adults here. We need to make grown-up choices.

Even if we were wrong to go our separate ways all those years ago and even if tonight is all about us finding our way back to each other, the first chapter in the sequel of our epic love story … I don’t want to restart a relationship with Steph by being a cheat.

I don’t want to hurt Aisha like that. And Curtis, I think, knowing as little as I do about the guy who put the ring on Steph’s hand, would probably deck me, and he’d be right to. I’d deserve it.

If this is something we’re going to try again …

We should do it right. We owe ourselves that much, I think.

And I know Steph – she’d never live with herself. She’d feel like a homewrecker. I probably would, too, but Steph’s always felt things more deeply than anybody I know, and it’d eat away at her.

So I nod and she relaxes a bit, a smile reappearing on her face at last before she assesses the gate again. ‘It can’t be that difficult, can it? All we need to do is pull ourselves up and – and hop on over!’

I look at the gate, which is about six-and-a-half-feet tall, and made entirely of vertical bars as if to purposely deter anyone from thinking they could climb over it. I can reach the top and can probably haul myself up if I prop a foot against the wall of the school, but there’s no room to sit at the top and pull Steph up. Even in her heels, she’s too short to reach on her own.

There’s nothing for it, I realise – I’m going to have to give her a boost.

I say as much out loud and Steph’s cheeks turn pink, but after a moment of silence she nods, coming to the same conclusion I just did. She takes her heels off, manoeuvring them awkwardly between the bars to drop on the other side of the gate in order to climb more easily in bare feet.

I crouch in front of her and my head swims with how much this feels like a warped daydream – me on one knee looking up at the woman I’ve always loved. Like, in another life, I should be pulling a ring out of my pocket and telling Steph how much she means to me. I always imagined the kind of life I’d have when I was an adult – the house in the suburbs, the dog and then the kids, family outings and holidays, kisses on cheeks in a busy, homey kitchen as we took turns cooking and washing up afterwards …

Steph hasn’t forgotten that kind of life, either. What we wanted for ourselves. How we saw our future together. Does she have that sort of thing with him? Can he give that to her, the way I could?

What if Aisha wasn’t the right woman, just the right time? What if I made a mistake with her, and in not chasing after Steph when I had the chance?

Steph steps delicately into my clasped hands, cringing awkwardly even as I assure her it’s alright, I’ve got her. She lifts her other foot off the ground and I hoist her up so she can make a grab for the top of the gate.

It quickly becomes clear that she’s not going to be able to pull herself the whole way up and over, though, so I step in to help before she has to ask, placing my hands on her waist to give her some extra support and guide her up.

‘Thanks,’ she puffs. ‘Sorry, I’m not … This isn’t, er …’

‘Skipped arm day?’ I joke, relieved when she giggles.

This close to her, the warmth of her body radiates into mine, the scent of her perfume and shampoo and something else so quintessentially Steph filling my nostrils, my mouth, making me long to draw her away from the gate, into me, so I can finally kiss her.

I don’t, though. We have bigger things to worry about.

Like getting back to the party before anyone worries where we are if there is a fire and it’s not some prank or whatever. Like dealing with our fiancés.

I have to help hold her feet and push her up to the very top of the gate, but Steph finally manages to swing herself over, and then dangles by her fingertips on the other side, wincing at the strain in her muscles, eyes screwed shut and mouth twisted in an awkward, if slightly cute, grimace.

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