Page 132 of When We Were Young

I stay the night. Falling asleep is easy with a warm body curled around mine and soft breath on my neck.

I wake with the birds. Billy still has his arm around me, and it makes me smile. I need to go home to shower and change before work. The green dress and last night’s make-up will not pass Magda’s scrutiny. I check my watch: there’s still time for at least another hour of sleep, but I’m wide awake. Billy removes his arm and turns onto his back in his sleep. I prop myself up on my elbow gently, so I don’t wake him. Studying his face unobserved, I take in his strong, square jaw and defined cheekbones. It’s the kind of face you want to draw.

I lay back on the pillow. When was the last time I sketched? That drawing for Scott. I’ve drawnhisface once before. Back in college, we did portraits of each other in class. We only had ten minutes. Mine came out well, but I remember he disliked my interpretation of his nose. His sketch of me was flattering, but it didn’t really look like me.

I run my fingertips across Billy’s cheek and down to his chin. The long stubble is soft. His eyes flicker open.

He smiles. ‘What time is it?’

‘Early,’ I say and lean in to kiss him.

The morning sex is much better. I could get the hang of this.

We eat a breakfast of toast and coffee. Billy offers me every conceivable spread for the toast but I plump for Marmite. We eat at his kitchen table chatting, me overdressed in the green frock.

He’s looking at me like an eager puppy and it makes me laugh.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘Stop looking at me like that.’

He raises a playful eyebrow. ‘Like what?’

‘Like that.’

He bites a semi-circle out of his toast, chews and swallows. ‘I was thinking it might be nice to go away together.’

‘Away?’

‘Just for a weekend, somewhere in the UK or maybe a bit further: Paris or Barcelona or something.’

Barriers go up inside me. The toast in my mouth takes a long time to chew. He’s waiting for a reply, so I say, ‘That would be nice.’ But my voice is flat.

‘Have you ever been to Paris?’

The Arc de Triomphe framed by the window of a tour bus flashes into my mind. ‘Once.’ Inside, mild panic is rising. Which is very confusing. He’s gorgeous. I was – am – very flattered to be his flavour of the week. I thought he was a bit of a player, on dating apps, seeing lots of people.

‘Too soon?’ he asks, making light of his faux pas.

I smile. ‘A bit.’

He leans in, kisses my neck, and whispers, ‘You get me all carried away.’

Chapter 60

July 1999

Will pressed the buzzer and waited. There was no answer, so he buzzed again. Still no answer. He stepped back from the door to check the windows. Emily’s room was dark, the whole flat was dark. Perhaps she was out, or perhaps she was avoiding him. He made his way around the back of the building. It was difficult to work out which flat was hers on this side until he spotted a red chair on a balcony and recognised it as Scott’s. The windows were unlit on this side too. He stood underneath the balcony. If he got up there, he could see in. He spotted a wheelie bin a few yards away and dragged it closer. For the briefest of moments, he thought about what he was doing, how it might look, whether it was a terrible idea. But he needed to talk to her. He was desperate, and there was no room for logic in his brain at that moment. The whiskey wasn’t helping.

He wedged the bin against the wall, climbed on, and wobbled his way up to standing. Using the railings to steady himself, he lunged a foot up, stuffed it between them, and hauled himself up. He took a moment to catch his breath before swinging his leg over and landing on the balcony with a thud.

Hands cupping his eyes, he pressed his face to the glass. Scott’s room was dark except for a single red light on something electrical, a TV or stereo maybe. The balcony doorwas locked, so he sank onto the red chair and checked his watch. It was 10:45 p.m. If they were at the pub, they’d be back soon. From the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out his dad’s old hip flask and took a swig. The cool pewter in his palm reminded him of his first date with Emily, when they shared sips from that flask. Before everything. Before any of this. They’d had their first kiss that night. It was also the night Aidan gave him a good kicking. Will guzzled more whiskey at the memory of that. He hadn’t spoken to him since.

Will had been sitting on the balcony a while before he noticed the brick. It was there on the floor by the balcony door like an unexpected gift. Why would there be a brick on Scott’s balcony other than as an invitation to smash the glass? Will puzzled over it for a few minutes. The whiskey was making it hard to keep his thoughts straight, but eventually he worked it out. It was a doorstop. It was there to hold the door open. Of course, that made sense. When he checked his watch, it was 11:04 p.m. He’d give them until eleven-thirty, then he’d use the brick.

If he smashed the door, there would be a lot of glass, and someone might hear. There was a little window beside the door. If he smashed the smaller pane, that would make less noise and he could reach around and open the door.

Will’s watch said 11:27 p.m. – it was time.