Before You Go Page 10

  ‘I love you too, Zoe. Always.’

  My heart almost bursts with happiness at hearing those words, words we haven’t said to each other for too long. He kisses me, his full lips warm and slightly salty, and I kiss him back, holding him as though this is our last moment together.

  Which it might be.

  I don’t want to cry, yet I can feel tears trying to escape and I blink them back furiously. But I can’t stop them and they slide slowly down my cheeks and onto Ed’s T-shirt.

  ‘Oh Zoe, don’t cry.’ We both glance out of the window, and he looks back, tightening his grip round my shoulders. ‘We’ll be OK. We will.’

  I wipe my face with my sleeve and turn to look out of the window again, the terror of the journey back in my mind. I watch, numbly, as the bus continues its treacherous route, trying not to think about dying, about plunging down the cliff to our deaths. I can’t think about Ed dying right now.

  It feels like hours, but finally we start to drop down the other side of the mountain, and the fog slowly begins to lift, as though a blanket has been pulled away. Around us I hear the relieved murmurs of the other passengers, who I’d hardly been aware of before, as they realize we’ve made it, that we’re going to be OK.

  The bus rumbles along the open road, gradually picking up speed as it flattens out now that the danger has passed. I feel Ed’s body next to me, warm and solid, as my head rises and falls with his breath, and happiness threatens to overwhelm me. I pull in as much air as I can, and let it out in a rush. Ed pulls away, looks down at me.

  ‘You OK, sweetheart?’

  I nod, the tears threatening again. ‘Yes, just glad that’s over.’

  He nods, serious. ‘It was a bit dicey there, wasn’t it?’

  I smile at the understatement. ‘Just a bit.’ I pause, suddenly shy. ‘You know, I really thought we were going to die up there.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘So, you know, I’m glad I said – what I said.’ My face flames.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Well, good.’ I glance at my knees, brush an imaginary crumb away and he takes my hand and pulls it to his mouth, planting a gentle kiss on the back of it.

  ‘Don’t be shy, Zoe. I’m glad you said it, and I’m glad I did too. I do love you, more than you can imagine, and I think I probably always have, from the very first moment I saw you, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights – a very cute rabbit – in our student kitchen that day. It just took me a while to realize what an utter dick I was being, not being with you.’

  My breath seems to have caught in my throat and I swallow to clear it. He’s always loved me. He never told me that, not in all the years we were together, and it takes a moment for the significance to sink in: this is new, which means something has changed. How much I don’t know, but for now I don’t care. This is enough. There’s nothing else I can do today but make the most of our being together, of being with Ed again, and I vow that if this is our last day, at least we can make it a happy one.

  Hours later, after a terrible, sleepless night, the bus pulls into a bus station and the driver kills the engine. Around us cheers go up and people clap with relief, and Ed joins in, his huge smile leaving lines etched round his eyes and mouth, his eyes sparkling.

  We stand and he takes my hand, leads me from the bus and we collect our bags and make our way through the busy streets to our hotel. Neither of us says much on the way there, happy in each other’s company.

  But when we get to our room with its plain walls and hard-looking bed, exhaustion overwhelms us and despite plans to see some of the city, we both collapse on the bed.

  ‘Well, that was interesting.’

  ‘That’s one way to describe it.’

  ‘You know what, Zo, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a journey that terrifying. I mean, I’ve been on scary flights where the plane shakes around so much it feels as though it’s going to fall out of the sky, but even then, even the thought of falling thousands of feet from the air, I’ve never been as scared as I was today. And it was because of you.’

  I can feel him watching me and I turn to face him, lock eyes.

  ‘Me?’

  He nods. ‘Yeah. Before, it was just about me, and, well, obviously I don’t want to die early – ’ my heart contracts at his words – ‘but if it happens, well, it happens. But the thought of losing you – that’s the worst pain imaginable. It’s terrifying.’ He stops, his cheeks reddening. ‘I know that makes me sound like a right dork, but it’s true.’ He shrugs, embarrassed.

  ‘Oh Ed, you don’t sound like a dork. I feel the same. The thought of losing you makes me feel as though my heart has been ripped out. I’m not sure I can go on. Could go on.’ I quickly cover my mistake but he doesn’t seem to notice.

  We lie in silence for a few moments, then a smile spreads across his face. ‘Well, that was intense.’

  ‘Very.’ The moment’s lost but I’m relieved. I need some light relief after the journey we’ve had.

  He sits up, claps his hands together. ‘Let’s go out.’

  ‘Out? Where?’

  ‘I don’t know. Food, walking. Alcohol. I think we need some.’

  I pull myself into a sitting position too, steady myself on the bed. ‘Edward Williams, for once, I think you might be right.’

  ‘For once? I’m always right.’

  We get up, throw on some clean clothes and head out into the busy city. We stroll past the cathedral and churches, do some window shopping and sit in plazas sipping too-strong coffee and wine. And for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening, I try not to think about anything but the here and now. Ed’s here, we’re young, we’re having fun. We love each other.

  There’s nothing else I want more.

  Later, back in our room, we stumble into bed and curl up under the duvet, drunk and happy. As I’m drifting off to sleep in Ed’s arms I can’t help feeling relieved that I don’t actually have to live through tomorrow’s hangover. But my heart feels full, content, and my last thought as I slip into oblivion is that I hope I get one more day with Ed. Just one more day.

  6

  12 May 2001

  I knew even before I opened my eyes this morning that I was back in the past, back for another day, and my heart beat so wildly I had to take several deep breaths to calm it down. I didn’t care what day this was, it was just enough that it was another day.

  It wasn’t quite light outside so I’d scrambled out of bed, which was still the bed in the flat I’d shared with Jane, and come through to the living room with a blanket wrapped round my shoulders to keep out the slight chill. Now I’m sitting huddled on the sofa, surrounded by packing boxes and sipping milky tea, watching the inky sky slowly lighten behind the buildings across the street.

  I know what today’s going to bring – the boxes have given it away – and I’m excited about moving in with Ed, but already I’m wondering what I might try to change about it, whether there’s anything I can do differently that might alter the course of history. That might stop Ed dying. I know there has to be something.

  My tea finished, I leave the mug on the side table and stand, stretching my arms above my head. The blanket falls to the floor and I leave it there, the air warming now, the early-morning chill gone. I walk barefooted across the room to the tiny kitchen and stand in front of the fridge. It’s covered with photos, stuck haphazardly to the door with magnets, as well as receipts, vouchers and anything else we don’t know what to do with. It’s so full you can hardly make out the white of the fridge door beneath.

  The sight of the photos is familiar, but I’d never really examined them properly. Now, though, I stand and take a good look, trying to remember my life so far. My eye is drawn to a picture about halfway down, of me and Jane with two handsome boys. A long-ago holiday to Greece where we partied hard and scarcely saw the sunshine. Our eyes shine and our skin glows. We look very drunk. There are endless pictures of us round restaurant tables, holding up glasses of wine, smiling
for the camera; there are graduation photos, birthday parties, pictures of me and Ed, me and Jane, Jane and boys long forgotten. It’s a catalogue of our lives and loves and it makes me smile.

  There’s a voucher for a two-for-one meal at our local tapas restaurant, a Post-it reminding one of us to buy more milk, several receipts. There’s a postcard from Barcelona and I pull it from its clip and turn it over.

  Having a great time, have been shopping and had some lovely food. It’s been sunny but quite cold, but better than home. You’d love it here, you should bring Zoe. See you soon darling. Love Mum and Roger.

  I smile at the memory. Susan rarely had a man in her life, but she’d been happy with Roger for a while. It had been this trip that had finished them off when she’d realized they wanted different things. His being mainly to sleep with other people, while she, selfishly, wanted him to be faithful. Poor Susan, she just seemed to attract that sort of man – including Ed’s dad – and I didn’t know why. The thought of it brings back another painful memory and I wince. It’s of me and Ed when we first got back from our travels, buoyed up by the intimacy we’d shared, with the fact we felt secure with each other. Talk had turned to marriage: specifically, Ed’s parents’.

  ‘Well, after the disaster that was Mum and Dad’s marriage I never want to repeat that mistake,’ he’d said. It had been a casual remark, I knew, but it cut like a knife.

  ‘What, never?’

  He shook his head. ‘What’s the point? It didn’t keep Mum and Dad together, and it clearly meant nothing to him. If people are cheats and liars then a wedding ceremony and a piece of paper isn’t going to change that.’ His voice was harsh, vehement and I was taken aback by the strength of his feelings. I’d always known his parents’ marriage had been unhappy before his dad had died, but I’d never known he felt this strongly about it.

  I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t desperate to get married but I always thought I would one day, and recently I’d been imagining it could be Ed I’d walk down the aisle with. Now, though, it seemed he had different ideas, and it didn’t sound as though there would ever be anything I could do to change his mind. It didn’t stop me wanting to try.

  I shake the thought from my mind and turn my attention back to the photos. So many memories here, so many friends and family and happy times. There’s a photo of my old work colleague and friend Lucy and her newborn baby, one of the first of any of us to get pregnant. For most of us it was something way off, intangible. Yet Lucy and her boyfriend Jake had planned it, wanted it, and were happy. My heart tightened a little as I traced my finger gently across the little girl’s beautiful face.

  ‘You’re up early.’ Jane’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn to find her looking bleary-eyed, hair sticking up like she’d been in a fight with a lawnmower.

  ‘Could say the same about you.’

  ‘Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Too sad about losing my best friend.’ She pulls a face, sticks out her bottom lip.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘S’OK. Are you excited?’

  ‘Can’t wait.’ I’m moving out of the flat and in with Ed, and being reminded of it now brings back the excitement of that day.

  It had been a big step, deciding to move in together, and surprisingly it was Ed who’d brought it up.

  ‘I spend so much time at your flat we might as well live together,’ he’d said one day as we stretched out on the sofa watching TV.

  ‘Mmm-hmm.’ I hadn’t really been listening.

  ‘So why don’t we?’

  I frowned, trying to tune in to the conversation, aware it was taking a different turn. ‘Why don’t we what?’

  Ed hesitated and I turned to face him properly, waiting for him to speak.

  ‘We could – you know. Get somewhere together.’ He picked at a piece of imaginary thread on his jeans, refusing to meet my eye. He wasn’t usually this shy and I knew what a huge effort it had been for him to suggest this. I decided to make it easy for him.

  ‘Edward Williams, are you asking me to move in with you?’

  He shrugged. ‘Well, yes, I just thought that, maybe, it would be easier if we actually, you know, lived together.’

  I let the words settle between us, find a home.

  ‘Easier?’

  ‘Yeah, well.’ He shrugged again. ‘Save having to schlep between each other’s houses. We could keep everything in one place. And – well, it would be nice.’

  I couldn’t help myself. A huge grin broke out across my face.

  ‘Yes, it would be nice. It would be more than nice, it would be amazing. Ed, I’d love to.’

  And so we’d spent the next few weeks flat-hunting all around north London – from the scruffy streets of Tottenham to the leafy roads of Hampstead, where we could just about afford a shoebox – before deciding on Crouch End, just by Alexandra Palace. And then we’d broken the news to Jane.

  ‘Abandoning me, are you?’ she said, pretending to be cross. But I knew she wasn’t, and the day we found our new place, she bought us a bottle of Prosecco to celebrate.

  And now the day is here, and I’m reliving it all over again. I’d been so happy that day, and now a sense of nervousness is mixed with the happiness.

  Jane’s padding around the kitchen in our little Tufnell Park flat, spooning coffee into a filter paper. I watch her for a moment and smile. I’ve missed this, Jane’s company, the ease of just being together. She turns and catches me watching her. ‘All right?’

  ‘Yes, fine. Just going to miss you. Miss this.’

  She sighs dramatically. ‘Yeah, me too. Really really.’ She turns back and I’m about to tell her I’m sorry when she cuts me off.

  ‘Crumpet?’ She waves one in the air.

  ‘Yeah, go on, then. Ta.’

  She pushes the toaster down and turns to me.

  ‘Bet you Ed doesn’t look after you this well. Sure you don’t want to stay?’ She pulls a ridiculous pout, pretending to sulk.

  ‘Well, it’s tempting . . . yeah, go on, I’ll just ring Ed, tell him I’ve changed my mind.’

  She grins. ‘Ha, imagine if you did. He’d kill me!’

  The crumpet pops up and she butters it and hands it to me. ‘Ta,’ I say, taking an enormous bite. ‘Mm, the girl makes a mean crumpet. You’ll make someone a great wife one day.’

  ‘Oh piss off,’ she says, throwing a soggy teabag at me. I duck and it lands on the sofa behind me. ‘Ha, there goes your deposit,’ she laughs, and I stick my tongue out.

  ‘So, what time’s the van coming?’

  ‘About twelve.’ I glance round the living room to see if there’s anything else I need to pack. It looks as though I’ve been pretty efficient.

  I wrack my brains to remember who moved in after I moved out. It would seem weird if I didn’t mention it at all. I remember a strange girl called Ruth, who moved in for a few weeks and left again shortly afterwards when Jane found her nicking money from her purse, and I feel another pang of guilt. I shake it off.

  ‘When’s Ruth moving in?’

  ‘Tomorrow. Hope she’s not a total loser.’

  I say nothing, and Jane is immediately suspicious.

  ‘What? Do you know something about her?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, how could I?’ I sound unconvincing even to my own ears and Jane gives me a strange look. ‘Just – well, just be careful. You never know if she’s going to turn out to be a single white female psycho.’

  ‘Oh thanks, that helps.’

  ‘Anyway,’ I say, changing the subject as I polish off the last mouthful of my crumpet, ‘I need to get ready. Thanks for breakfast.’ I hop off the stool, taking my tea with me, and head to the bathroom.

  Once again I find myself in front of the mirror looking at my reflection. My hair is light, and cut quite short, with a neat fringe. It’s not very me, and it makes me look really young. I must be – what? Twenty-six? I look about thirteen.

  I shower and get dressed in the clothes I’d left out for myself on the cha
ir, then start heaving boxes into the front room. Jane’s nowhere to be seen, but I can hear the shower pumping away.

  Finally, midday arrives, along with Ed and the van we’ve hired for the day. As he bounds up the stairs to the flat he looks pleased with himself.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ His eyes sparkle with mischief.

  ‘Edward, what have you been up to?’ His face breaks into a grin as he takes my hand and pulls me down the steps behind him. He leads me to the van and flings open the back doors. There, in the middle of the otherwise empty space, is a battered-looking leather sofa.

  ‘I found it in a junk shop. I know this place is furnished but I just thought you’d like it.’

  ‘Oh Ed, it’s brilliant,’ I say, flinging my arms round him. It’s just like the one I’d pointed out a few weeks before when we’d been out shopping for duvet covers and cushions.

  ‘Do we really need all these cushions?’ Ed had said.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied.

  ‘But what’s the point of them?’

  ‘They look nice,’ I snapped. ‘I’m not living in a bachelor pad.’

  Ed had shrugged and left me to it. But as we’d left the shop he’d caught me looking longingly at a gorgeous brown leather sofa. This one isn’t exactly the same but it’s pretty close, and it means he took some notice, and that means more than what the sofa looks like.

  I kiss his cheek.

  ‘Right, are you going to come and help me lift these boxes, then?’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ He follows me dutifully up the steps and we spend the next half hour heaving boxes from the flat to the van. I seem to have a lot of stuff for such a small room. But finally we’re done, and ready to go.

  ‘We’re only going to be a bus ride away,’ I say to Jane, hugging her tearfully.

  ‘Don’t cry, silly. I’ll be round every day for my dinner.’

  Ed goes quiet, a look of horror on his face.