Before You Go Read online

  ‘Come in,’ Jane says. ‘Which one are you, then?’

  Rob grins. ‘I’m Rob,’ he says. ‘The handsome one.’

  I smile. Rob is handsome – but he’s also a total ladies’ man and will have slept with half the freshers before the end of the month. Plus, he’s no Ed.

  ‘Nice to meet you, handsome one,’ I say instead. He flops onto the edge of the bed beside me, stretching his feet out in front of him.

  As Jane and Rob get to know each other, I look round the room, at the black spots in the corner where the damp has taken over, at the squares of darker paint and greasy Blu-Tack circles where past posters have left their marks, and think about how surreal today has become.

  For whatever reason, I’ve woken up in 1993, back in my eighteen-year-old life. Whether it’s just for one day or for much longer I have no idea, and right now I don’t care because all I can think about is one thing: Ed. If this day goes as it did the first time round – and it has so far, so I have no reason to believe that it won’t – then I’ll be meeting Ed soon. It won’t be my Ed as I know him now. It will be the Ed I first met, the young, sexy, slightly arrogant Ed who I liked but didn’t fall head over heels in love with at that moment: there was no lightning bolt, no spark of electricity shooting across the room. There was just me and a boy, meeting for the first time, with a whole world of possibilities ahead of us.

  This time, it’s going to be hard – almost impossible – to behave as though I’ve never met him before. I’ve loved him and hated him intensely; I’ve held him and comforted him and fought with him and lost him and grieved for him, and with all that in my mind, how am I supposed to get through this? I have no idea.

  ‘What do you think?’ With a start I’m brought back to now to see Jane and Rob looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.

  ‘Sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?’ I hope neither of them notices the wobble in my voice.

  ‘Shall we find the local?’ Rob says. ‘Have a quick pint before the others get here?’

  ‘Good idea.’ I need some Dutch courage to get me through the next few hours. A drink is just what I need. I stand quickly. ‘I’ll just put my stuff in my room before Mum and Dad leave.’

  We traipse down the stairs to say our goodbyes as Dad ferries my bags and boxes into the room next to Jane’s.

  ‘Take care, love.’ Mum hugs me tightly and I feel tears welling in my eyes again. ‘Make sure you ring me, and come home to see us soon.’

  ‘Not too soon, though, I’m turning your room into a B & B.’ Dad smirks as he gives me a quick hug, then I wave as they drive off down the road, leaving me to my new life. I can do this. I can live the student life again. It’s only one day, after all – and it might just be the day I’ve been hoping for since I lost Ed.

  ‘Right, let’s go,’ I say, taking a deep breath and pasting a smile on my face, and the three of us march down the path for the short walk to our local.

  As we push through the swing door I’m surprised by the pang of nostalgia. It’s a long time since I’ve been here, and the memories come flooding back. I can picture Ed at the pool table, deep lines etching his forehead as he concentrates on potting the black, a pint balanced on the table edge, half drunk. I remember Jane getting so drunk she fell off her chair and curled up for a nap in the corner. I can almost hear Blind Melon’s ‘No Rain’ on the jukebox we used to play, pumping in endless coins to hear our favourite tunes. And despite the utter ridiculousness of the situation and the apprehension I’m feeling at what’s to come, a sudden warmth washes over me as I settle at the table to spend the afternoon with these people – my oldest friends, who I’ve only just met.

  Three hours later we’re back at the house. Simon has arrived and after a quick introduction we get on with the job of claiming kitchen cupboards and sharing a cheap bottle of wine we picked up at the offie on the way home. It tastes like paint stripper but it’s blurring the edges of my anxiety.

  Outside it’s starting to get dark and I know what this means. Ed will be here soon. I feel the knot in my chest tighten.

  I haven’t exactly accepted the fact that I’ll never see Ed again, but somewhere deep down I know it’s true, and I’m terrified that his face is already starting to blur in my memory, however desperately I try to hold it there. I can see the outline of his face, almost trace it with my fingertips. But I can’t picture the shape of his eyes, the exact rise and fall of his nose or the angle of the cupid’s bow in his lips, and it’s been driving me mad. I’m not sure I can handle being in front of all these people when I see him again. How do I look at him, without reaching out to touch him or worse, throwing myself at him? How can I possibly do that?

  The hands on the cheap plastic clock above the sink tick monotonously on; the tap drip, drip, drips endlessly into the sink. I can feel my hands start to sweat and my head feels fuzzy. Voices murmur in the periphery, but I’m blocking it all out, focusing instead on the in and out, in and out of my breath, the rise and fall of my chest and the steady, insistent thump of my heart. I just want to get this over and done with.

  And then, as if in answer to my prayers, there’s a loud knock on the door, and before anyone has a chance to open it, the kitchen door bursts open and there’s Ed, a huge smile lighting up his handsome face.

  The blood rushes to my head and I think I might pass out.

  Around me there’s a frantic wave of activity as everyone leaps up to greet him, but I stay stock-still, my eyes trained on the air just to the side of his head, too scared to look directly at him. But I have to eventually, and when I force my eyes to see him properly, I feel as though I’ve been punched in the guts. Oh God. It’s him, he’s really here.

  I stand and move slowly round to the back of the chair, gripping hold of it tightly in the hope it will hold me up. And then I look at him again, trying to drink in every inch of him. His dark hair flops over his bright-blue eyes, and he keeps pushing it out of the way with his hand, a gesture so familiar it hurts. He looks so young, and I can’t believe that when we met for the real first time I wasn’t in love with him at all.

  Now, I feel as though my heart has been ripped out and is being dangled in front of the whole room for all my friends to see. I’m in love with this man yet my heart is breaking, because he’s gone and I know this might be my only chance to see him again. Yet I can’t tell him how I feel.

  At least, I can’t with words. But surely he’ll know, the moment he looks in my eyes, surely he’ll see everything we’ve shared together since this moment? Surely there’s no way he can’t see the bond we have? I need to make this moment count, because this could be the only chance I get.

  So I take a deep breath, wipe my hand on my dress and hold it out as I step forward, trying to stop it shaking. ‘I’m Zoe,’ I say. ‘Lovely to meet you.’

  And as he takes my hand in his, everything around me explodes.

  ‘Lovely to meet you too,’ he says, the deep timbre of his voice vibrating straight through to my heart. I grip his hand a moment longer than necessary and I feel the warmth seeping into my skin. He feels it, I know he does, and I look deep into his eyes. But then the spell is broken by another knock and he gently tugs his hand away and turns to where a face is peering round the door.

  Ed’s face lights up and he wraps his arm protectively round the newcomer’s shoulders and pulls her towards him, his eyes full of love. She’s tall and graceful, her short hair stylish and her eyes warm. It’s clear she adores Ed, and that the feeling is mutual.

  ‘Everyone, this is Mum. Mum, this is everyone.’ He sweeps his arm majestically round the room and we all murmur our hellos. But all I can think about is the day I stood by Susan’s side at Ed’s funeral, watching as the curtain closed round his coffin and we held each other up, locked in grief.

  ‘Mum wanted to make sure I got here without getting lost, didn’t you, Mum?’

  Susan dips her head and smiles apologetically. ‘Yes, sorry to be the embarrassing mum, but you k
now. Got to make sure my little boy’s OK.’

  She grins as Ed groans, but I know he’s secretly thrilled she’s here. At this moment in time she’s the only woman in the world he loves.

  ‘But she’s not staying long, are you, Mum?’

  ‘No, don’t worry, I won’t cramp your style.’ She peers at the bottle of wine on the table. ‘Anyway, I’m not sure my stomach’s strong enough to drink that.’

  Ed rolls his eyes and she grins, the same impish grin he has when he thinks he’s being funny. ‘Sorry, I’d better get going before he kills me.’ She hitches her handbag up onto her shoulder and moves to give Ed a kiss, and my stomach contracts with envy. I’d give anything to kiss him right now.

  But I’m learning; I’ll just have to wait.

  ‘Lovely to meet you all,’ Susan says, then the pair of them leave the room as he sees her out. I will my heart to slow down as the conversation around me returns to normal. Just another day for everyone else, albeit an exciting one full of new people. What would they think if they knew what I was going through?

  ‘Are you all right? You’ve gone really pale.’ Jane’s face wrinkles in concern as she sucks deeply on her cigarette. I smile weakly, pushing the smoke out of my face.

  ‘I’m fine. Just a bit drunk, I think.’

  ‘Ha, we’ve hardly got started; you need to get some stamina, girl!’ Holding her cigarette in her mouth she walks to the sink and rinses out a mug, fills it with water and brings it back to the table. ‘Here, drink this.’

  I take the mug, hoping she doesn’t notice my hand shaking, and down the whole thing in one.

  ‘Better?’

  I nod. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Good. Right, more wine.’ She slugs some of the warm, cheap plonk into my glass and grins.

  Ed comes back, rummaging around in his backpack. I watch, knowing what he’s going to produce, and then he pulls out a bottle of vodka. ‘Right, anyone for a proper drink?’

  A chorus of ‘yeah!’ goes up and I groan. I want to make this moment count and if I’m drunk I won’t remember any of it. But I don’t want to look like a party pooper either, on the first day these people have met me.

  Glasses are filled – there’s no ice but someone’s found a bottle of Diet Coke – and are being handed round. I take one and hold it to my lips, watching the faces of my friends round the table, trying not to stare at the face of the man I love more than anyone else in the world.

  ‘Cheers.’ Ed raises his glass and looks at me, and I feel as though his eyes are looking inside me, not just at me, and my face burns. I hold my glass up and clink it against his and finally he looks away. My heart is beating so fast it feels as though I’m going to spin off my chair.

  The rest of the evening passes in a blur of drinking and laughing and talking, and eventually, late into the night, it’s time to go to bed. I don’t want to go; I have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, whether I’ll ever see Ed again or whether this was just a one-off, and I really don’t want to sleep, in case. But I’m tired and I’m drunk, and I know I have no choice. However long I stay awake, this day can’t last forever.

  ‘Night,’ Ed says as we reach the top of the stairs.

  ‘Night, sweetheart.’

  ‘Blimey, bit forward.’

  I cringe, and hide my red cheeks behind my hair. ‘Sorry, just a bit drunk. Goodnight, Edward Williams. It’s been lovely to meet you.’ I hold my hand out and he grabs it, gently shaking it up and down. His touch makes me shiver.

  ‘It’s been an absolute pleasure to meet you too, Zoe Morgan.’

  Then he lets go, shuts his door behind him, and is gone.

  2

  22 July 1994

  The first few seconds of being awake have passed, the agony of remembering everything has settled into its usual constant aching hum rather than the initial scream of anguish as I lie with my eyes tightly shut.

  But the memory of seeing Ed again yesterday, and of his touch, has also stayed with me, and I’m desperate to see if it’s happened again, if I’m back in the past. So I take a deep breath and open my eyes, sit up, and look around. The first thing I see at the end of my double bed is a very young Jane, curled up like a baby, fast asleep. She’s still dressed, and her hair is matted and stuck to her face. Ignoring her, I look round the room. It’s my bedroom in the second year at university. It’s the bedroom I unpacked my things in ‘yesterday’, and I can see the posters that I’d stuck up on the wall: Pop Will Eat Itself, Soundgarden, Red Hot Chili Peppers. There’s a huge pile of clothes on a chair in the corner, and CDs scattered all over the floor next to my stereo. The rest of the CD cases are stacked neatly in their tower.

  I feel a little bit dizzy.

  Is this another day? It certainly seems that way. But why?

  I take a few deep breaths and sit a moment longer, trying to work out what to do next. I don’t have a clue what’s going on, or what day I’m somehow ‘reliving’, but I’m pretty sure I’ll find out soon enough. I swing my legs down the side of the bed, careful not to wake up Jane. The carpet’s rough under my feet and dust floats in the air, caught in the light streaming through the paper-thin curtains. I step over the pile of CDs, careful not to slip on one, and pull open the wardrobe door. There’s a mirror hanging on the back of it and, trying not to think about it too much, I take a look at myself.

  My hair’s long and knotted, dyed a dark, dark brown, almost black. It hangs over my shoulders and halfway down my upper arms. My eyes are ringed with black make-up and silver glitter, and my skin looks white and smooth, like porcelain. Not a hint of a wrinkle here, despite evidence of a heavy night the night before. I’m wearing an oversized black T-shirt and my slim white legs poke out of the bottom. There’s a bruise on my shin, small but deep purple, ringed with yellow. I’ve no idea how I got it. My nose has a silver ring in it, and four silver studs creep up my left ear. I smile. I loved my piercings. I miss them. I kind of miss dressing like this.

  I creep downstairs and pick my way through the ashtrays and empty cans littering the living-room floor and turn on the TV. I press the teletext button and am surprised to find it actually works, the old-fashioned letters scrolling across the page like tickertape. Finally, after a few minutes of searching through the slow-loading pages, I find what I’m looking for.

  The date: 22 July 1994.

  I frown, rewinding wildly through my memories, trying to place the date. Why this day? Was it important? Does it involve Ed?

  And then I realize. How could I have forgotten?

  It’s a few days after Ed and I had our first kiss. Which can only mean one thing.

  It’s the day he broke my heart.

  My legs go weak beneath me and I sit down quickly on the edge of the grubby sofa before I fall. I remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday, and I can’t quite believe I’m going to have to live through it all over again.

  The kiss had been unexpected, but amazing. As the year had gone by I’d been surprised how much my feelings for Ed had grown. I’d found myself watching him all the time: as he talked to people, as he ate his breakfast, as he dozed on the sofa. And slowly, I realized I saw him as more than just a friend. I really fancied him. I had no idea whether he felt the same way, but still I harboured dreams of kissing him before the year was out. By the time we had a house party, a week or so before we all went home for the summer and started boring jobs, I’d been running out of hope that anything would ever happen between us.

  ‘When do you start?’ Simon had asked at the party; he had a few weeks of work experience lined up at his dad’s law firm and was keen to make sure we’d got ourselves sorted too.

  ‘First week back home,’ I said. I had a holiday job in the pub round the corner from my parents’ house.

  ‘What about you?’ I said to Simon. ‘You starting straight away too?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘And I’ve got to wear a suit.’

  I laughed out loud. Simon lived in rarely washed combat trousers, scuffe
d boots and faded band T-shirts.

  ‘What?’ he said, pretending to be hurt. ‘I think I’ll look quite handsome.’ He stuck his chin in the air and adjusted an imaginary tie before passing me a spliff.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you will.’ I took a drag and blew the smoke into the air. ‘You’ll have trouble concentrating on work with all those women queuing at your desk.’

  ‘That’s what I’m hoping.’ He winked and I laughed again. ‘What’re you up to, Eddie?’

  Ed shrugged. ‘Not sure. I’m going back to Mum’s; I’ll look for something then. I quite fancy a bit of gardening, get outside in the sunshine, use my hands. Might play a few gigs in the locals too.’ He flashed me a look. ‘Or not.’

  ‘All right for some, eh?’ Simon said. ‘Wish I could just goof around playing guitar all summer and Mummy would look after me.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a tough life but someone’s got to do it.’ Ed laughed along but I could see the hurt in his eyes. He knew the boys all thought he was a mummy’s boy, but I knew differently. Ed and his dad hadn’t been close even while his dad was still alive, and it had been just Ed and his mum for years.

  ‘You’ll find something.’ I leaned over and passed him the end of the spliff and our fingers brushed. I shivered and snatched my hand away, but I could see Ed watching me from the corner of my eye and I felt uncomfortable. I stood up and walked into the kitchen, my legs feeling wobbly. I stood by the sink for a moment, trying to sober up, the bassline of ‘Insane in the Brain’ by Cypress Hill thumping through the floor.

  ‘Hey.’

  With a start I turned to find Ed standing behind me, and my heart did a little flip. Without looking away, he hauled himself up onto the worktop and sat studying me carefully.

  ‘So, how’re you feeling about being at home all summer?’

  I shrugged. ‘OK. You know.’ I felt awkward beneath his gaze and turned to fiddle with something on the counter. ‘You?’

  Ed didn’t answer. Instead he said, ‘Will you miss me?’ His voice was teasing and I wasn’t sure whether he was flirting with me, or just being Ed. I turned back to face him.