Page 89 of When We Were Young

She went to him. He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his neck and squeezed him. She tried to commit the feel of him to memory, the smell of him, how it felt to be held by him. Her throat ached.

They stood like that for a long time.

She felt him swallow. There was a weird tension in his body, like he was holding his breath. When she pulled away, his eyes were wet.

‘Don’t…’ She kissed his tears, sobbing herself now.

‘I’ve waited longer than five months for you before,’ he whispered.

She laughed. ‘You did. And this time I’ll be waiting for you, too.’

He wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘I know.’

‘Have a wonderful adventure. Then come home and tell me all about it.’

‘I will. I’ll call you.’

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

She went to the bedside table and took a Polaroid out of the drawer and handed it to him. It was a picture he took of her the other night. She was wearing the tuxedo jacket she’d bought him. And nothing else. It was sexy, but tasteful.

‘So you don’t forget me,’ she added.

‘No fear of that.’ He scooped up the t-shirt she had worn in bed the night before. ‘Can I take this, too?’

‘Sure – I hope it smells okay.’

He buried his face in it. ‘It smells of you.’

‘I already stole one of yours.’

A horn sounded.

‘You’d better go. I’ll come down with you.’

He picked up his guitar case, and they went down to the street.

‘I love you,’ she said into his neck when they hugged.

‘I love you, too.’

He got in the car and raised a hand at the window as it pulled away.

She raised hers back and watched the car travel down the street until the brake lights flared and it turned out of sight.

Chapter 42

May 2016

Liv

Today I brought Chloe with me to the Baileys’ house to help me with the archive. I made her wear smart clothes, and when I introduced her to Mrs Bailey as my ‘colleague’, Chloe had a coughing fit. She’s not helping much, though. I haven’t done nearly as much as I usually do. She keeps picking up the guitars and pretending to play them like a heavy metal guitarist. We’re cracking up every five minutes, then shushing each other in case Mrs Bailey realises she has two schoolgirls rummaging through her son’s precious belongings.

I’ve been here every Saturday for the last three weeks. Mum and Dad think I’m working atAmplify, but that doesn’t start until the summer holidays. Tumi didn’t think we needed to bother Paul with it, but she insisted on getting my parents’ permission so I suggested we print a permission slip like they do at school. I forged Dad’s signature and sent it back to her the next day.

Before I started, I googled what equipment I’d need and Mary got everything on my list, from fireproof and waterproof boxes to acid-free plastic sleeves for storing paper documents and photographs. I’m not sure if what I’m doing is right, but it’s got to be better than leaving this stuff in flight cases to rot.

I show Chloe my system of adding stuff to a spreadsheet and how to use the scanner I borrowed from theAmplifyoffice. She’s humming an annoying tune as she unpacks a box onto the trestle table we have set up for sorting.