Page 128 of When We Were Young

Miranda appeared bleary-eyed in the doorway. ‘What’s going on?’

Emily went to speak but her voice failed her.

‘They broke up,’ said Scott and passed her in the doorway as if they were a tag team. Miranda rushed over, gave her an awkward standing hug, then pulled up a chair. ‘What happened?’

The concern in Miranda’s eyes brought tears to her own and Emily couldn’t speak. Patiently, Miranda waited for her to compose herself, gently rubbing her arm. Then Scott returned – fully dressed now – and began filling the kettle.

‘Scott, you knob,’ said Miranda, ‘what are you doing? Can’t you see she needs a proper drink?’

God, Emily was glad she had these two.

Scott poured them all shots of vodka, but there were no mixers in the flat, so he diluted them with water. It tasted foul, but the burn as it went down was strangely soothing.

Emily filled them in on the events of that day – the drive to Wales, the conversation with Matty, the row with Will, and driving all the way back again. Miranda kept butting in with foul-mouthed insults for Matty and Will. Scott listened quietly.

‘Did I do the right thing?’ Emily looked from Miranda to Scott. ‘I don’t know if I did the right thing.’

‘Of course you did the right bloody thing,’ said Scott.

‘Look,’ said Miranda, ‘What do you want? From your life, I mean?’

Emily lifted her eyes to Miranda’s.

‘You’re always sacrificing yourself for Will,’ Miranda continued. ‘Travelling to wherever he is. He didn’t come to your exhibition.’ She stabbed a finger into the table. ‘That was your Glastonbury – where was he then? You’ve got to think of yourself from now on and what you want.’

Scott pursed his lips and nodded his agreement.

‘Wait, I have something to show you both.’ Emily fetched the letter from her bag and they moved their glasses so she could lay it on the table.

‘You got it!’ cried Miranda almost immediately, as though she had been expecting it.

Scott tilted his head to read from his position at the table. ‘We are delighted to inform you that your application has been successful…’ He looked up briefly, a question in his eyes. ‘We look forward to welcoming you, on the conclusion of your studies, to our two-year residency programme… You will have twenty-four-hour access to your own light, spacious studio in the heart of Amsterdam… Amsterdam?’

Emily nodded, a weak smile breaking through her misery for a moment.

‘Two years?’ he asked, eyes wide.

Miranda elbowed him in the ribs. ‘We’re going to have some wild weekends in the Dam!’

‘You knew about this?’ he asked.

‘I helped her with the application.’

‘Wow.’ Scott took a swig of vodka.

‘I didn’t want to tell anyone in case I didn’t get it,’ Emily explained. ‘And when I got the letter this morning, I wasn’t even sure I’d accept. I thought it might mean the end of me and Will…’ Oh God, she was crying again.

‘Imagine if you’d turned it down for that fucker.’ Miranda poured them all another shot, not bothering with the water this time.

‘Imagine choosing Christie Blackmore over you,’ added Scott.

They sat drinking until the pale morning light streamed in through the window and Miranda held back Emily’s hair as she brought up the meagre contents of her stomach.

She didn’t want to go out the following weekend, but Miranda and Scott insisted. They dragged her to their old haunt, an indie disco at a basement club on Wardour Street. They drankand danced and yelled in each other’s ears and everything was fine until the DJ played ‘Fever’ and Scott caused a scene at the DJ booth. Before they knew it, a burly bouncer was ejecting them onto the street, so they called it a night and picked up kebabs on the way home. When they got in, the answering machine was flashing.

‘Don’t listen to it,’ warned Miranda. ‘Just delete it.’

There were four messages altogether – all from Will. Miranda and Scott stood by, nodding their encouragement as Emily deleted each one without listening beyond the first word. They ate in the kitchen and drank the rest of the vodka – this time diluting it with a can of Coke from the kebab shop split three ways.

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