Before You Go Page 4

  ‘Nah, course not.’ My face was growing hot, threatening to give me away, but I held his gaze, daring him to look away. He jumped down from the counter and stood less than a metre away from me. ‘Oh, that’s a shame.’

  ‘Is it?’

  He nodded, a smile playing on his lips. ‘It is. Because I think I’m going to miss you, Zoe.’

  Scared that the wine was making me read too much into his words, I stayed silent, waiting. The deep blue of his eyes was sparkling, teasing. ‘Right. Good.’

  ‘Is that it? Good?’ He went to move towards me and stumbled a little. ‘Oops,’ he grinned. ‘Think I’ve drunk a bit too much.’ He reached me and stood, hardly an inch between us, looking down at me. ‘That’s not why I’m saying it, though, because of the beer. I really will miss you.’

  Then, very slowly, he brought his head down and gently touched his lips to mine. I felt as though I’d been lit up, and I responded hungrily. He brought his arms around me and pulled my head closer, deepening the kiss. Finally, he pulled away.

  ‘I guess this is OK, then?’ he said.

  I nodded. ‘More than OK.’

  He moved to kiss me again.

  ‘Hey, hey, hey!’ A voice interrupted us and Ed pulled away quickly. ‘What’s all this, then?’

  Rob was standing in the kitchen doorway, swaying slightly, looking rather too pleased to have caught us in the act. I grinned happily.

  But Ed didn’t look so pleased. ‘Nothing,’ he mumbled, taking a couple of steps further back. ‘I was just saying goodbye.’

  ‘Yeah, looked like it.’ Rob grinned. ‘I only came to get some more beers. Want one?’

  ‘Please.’

  They took their beers from the fridge and turned to me.

  ‘Zoe?’ Rob held a drink out.

  ‘No, thanks.’ My head was spinning and I was trying to work out what had just happened. Had Ed dismissed me, or was he embarrassed we’d been caught? I tried to catch his eye but he wouldn’t look at me, and my face flamed. Whatever his intentions, I couldn’t help feeling furious with him. I turned and walked out, back to the party, and poured myself another glass of warm wine from the bottle on the floor.

  Ed had been funny with me ever since, acting as though nothing had happened, and I’d decided to go along with it. I didn’t know what his problem was but I wasn’t going to ask him. He could tell me.

  Now, I’m back in the day a week or so later, the last day of term, that I’d hated the first time round, wondering what the point is of reliving it all again. There has to be a reason, otherwise why am I here? Have I been given a second chance so I can do something differently?

  I gasp, the breath knocked from me.

  That’s it! I’ve got to try to change something today, see if I can make a difference. Maybe it’s like the butterfly effect – one small change somewhere along the way can create a huge, all-consuming change to someone’s life miles – or years – away. Which could mean that even one tiny change today could be significant enough to stop Ed being taken from me.

  I have no idea if it will work, but I do know it’s got to be worth a go.

  It’s five in the afternoon; the sun is high and hot in the sky and I tilt my face up towards it as I sip from a can of Coke, enjoying the warmth on my face.

  Jane sits beside me, her legs jumping up and down impatiently, puffing on a fag.

  ‘Come on, I need to get home for a shower, I stink.’

  ‘Ah, just a few more minutes,’ I beg.

  ‘Go on, then,’ she says, and I know without even looking at her she’s rolling her eyes.

  ‘Thanks. And don’t do that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Roll your eyes.’

  ‘Ha, sorry.’ I know her better than I know myself sometimes – and vice versa. It’s hardly surprising, considering we see each other every day and tell each other everything. It gives me a pang of regret to think about it. In 2013, I still adore her, but I know I’ve let our friendship slide, and at this precise moment in time I can’t for the life of me think why I would do that.

  I sip my drink and turn to her. ‘I love this, you know.’

  ‘Love what?’

  ‘This. The fact we can sit here together in silence, and it feels OK.’

  She smiles. ‘Me too. Even if you do make me stay here against my will.’

  ‘Oh, I give up.’ I jump to my feet, my head spinning a little. I’ve been trying to avoid going back to the house because I know Ed’s going to be there and I’m not ready to see him yet. I’m nervous and I need to compose myself.

  Jane and I have been hanging out today, avoiding lectures and drinking cheap, flat cider in the student union. Now we’re out for some fresh air but it’s just made my head feel even fuzzier. I grab her shoulder to steady myself.

  ‘Careful,’ she says, holding me upright and stubbing out her cigarette on the pavement. Then she grins. ‘Oops, think we might have had too much cider.’ Then she lets out a delicate burp. I shriek with laughter. ‘You pig!’

  We link arms and start walking, unsteadily, towards home. It’s been lovely spending the day with her, although as I got more and more drunk it got harder and harder not to tell her what was going on. What I was going through was so weird and so inexplicable and so, well, huge, that it felt totally wrong to be holding it back from her.

  But now, as we stroll home arm in arm, I’m glad I did. We’ve had a perfect day and I don’t want anything to ruin that. Jane’s always been there for me, throughout all the heartache of the last few years, but I knew I’d shut her out, unable to cope with her kindness. Today has felt like a tonic, like we’ve got our friendship back and, although I know it probably won’t change anything in the future, it feels bloody great.

  I blink back tears and before I know it we’ve walked the two miles back to our house. We’ve both sobered up a bit and as Jane slides the key into the lock I feel myself tensing up.

  Jane notices. ‘You need to talk to him, you know.’

  ‘I know, I know. But what if he doesn’t want to talk to me? What if I’ve read it all wrong and the kiss was just a drunken mistake he’s trying to forget?’

  ‘Or how about this? What if he’s just embarrassed? You know, the cliché house romance, and he doesn’t know how to handle it any better than you do? Maybe you just need to talk to each other.’

  I shake my head. ‘No, no way. He kissed me, and he said he was going to miss me. None of it was me. Now it’s up to him to come and tell me why he’s refusing to talk to me.’

  Jane looks at me for a moment, then shrugs. ‘I’ve said my piece; I won’t nag you again. But you know what I think you should do, and it’s not nothing.’

  I nod, my face set. We fall silent as Jane opens the door and flicks on the light. Voices drift from the living room and I can make out laughter and the gentle hum of the TV. The walk down the hallway seems longer than usual. Finally, we arrive at the living room and push the door open. I have to stop myself from crying out.

  There, curled up on the sofa, is Ed. Next to him, snuggled into the crook of his arm with a smug look of satisfaction on her face, is – actually, what the hell is her name? She had such a big impact on my life that day I can’t believe I’ve forgotten, but somehow it’s escaped me. I call her Big Tits, for want of anything better.

  Rob’s sitting on the other sofa, sprawled out with an open can of beer next to him, chatting to Ed.

  But it’s Ed I can’t take my eyes off. My Ed, holding another woman, holding a woman who’s not me, just days after that kiss. I’d thought of nothing else and here he is, not caring. I feel as though I’ve been kicked in the stomach, and as my head spins I grab the back of the sofa to steady myself. Of course it’s ridiculous. I knew this was coming. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

  Last time I’d sat down and spent the evening pretending I hadn’t noticed, and then taken myself off early to bed for a cry.

  This time, though, it’s going to be different. I’m going to
try something, see where it takes me. It might sound crazy, the thought that one little thing now, in 1994, might have the potential to prevent someone dying in 2013, but if not, what’s the point of all this?

  I sit down and wait, biding my time. Ed still refuses to look at me. The conversation flows, but I hardly hear a word. I’m waiting for my moment.

  Finally, Ed stands. ‘Just going for a wee.’

  He walks out of the room. I wait a few seconds then stand too. Jane catches my eye, tips her head quizzically, but I just shake my head and walk out of the room casually. I feel ridiculous, hanging around in the kitchen waiting for the flush of the loo. But when it comes I walk down the corridor and pass the toilet door just as Ed comes out. He bumps into me and our shoulders collide.

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ He looks at the carpet and turns to walk away.

  ‘Ed.’ My voice is firm and he stops, his eyebrows raised in question.

  ‘Zoe.’

  My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it right through my body to the ends of my fingertips, into my toes. I force my breathing under control.

  ‘Ed, you can’t ignore me forever, you know. Are you going to tell me why you’re pretending you didn’t kiss me?’

  Ed looks shocked. He should do, he put me through hell. I don’t let him off easily, though, and wait for him to speak, my head spinning with the thrill of doing something so totally out of character.

  ‘I’m not pretending, I’m . . .’ He stops, and looks down at his shoes. Then he raises his head and looks me in the eye. ‘I’m sorry, Zoe, I don’t really know what I’m doing. I do really like you, but it’s just . . .’ He trails off again, and he looks so guilty I start to soften.

  ‘Oh Ed, I just want to know why you’ve been avoiding me since – well, since you kissed me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I really am. I know I’ve been an arse. I just didn’t want to make a big thing of it, you know, with the others. I didn’t want them to know anything was going on.’

  ‘But is it? Going on, I mean.’ My voice is softer now, and Ed smiles.

  ‘Well no, I suppose not. But I would like it to.’

  ‘Really?’ My heart almost leaps out of my chest.

  Ed nods. ‘I think so. Just – I’m not sure now is the right time.’

  My heart plummets again and I struggle to control the wobble in my voice. ‘Because of her?’ I jab my thumb in the direction of the living room.

  ‘Amy?’ He has the decency to look guilty.

  ‘Yes, Amy.’

  ‘Oh God no, not because of her. I mean, she’s OK and everything but – well, she’s just a friend, really. A girl from uni. It’s not because of her, no. It’s . . .’

  I wait for him to continue.

  ‘It’s just not the right time, Zo. I’m sorry. I really am.’

  I look down at my shoes, trying to blink back the tears. I don’t know why I feel so sad this time, knowing we get together in the end anyway. It just feels so hard to hear those words come from his mouth. I want to tell him that it’s never the right time and that life is too short to put things off, to waste time being apart. But I can’t, and I know that a nineteen-year-old man won’t listen to a word of it anyway. Why would he? And so I just take a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

  ‘Me too, Ed. I’m really sorry too. But I get it.’

  ‘You do?’

  I nod, and we stand there for a moment, unsure how to be with each other. The air between us is so thick with unspoken words, it’s almost alive.

  Finally, he takes a step towards me. We’re less than an inch apart and I can feel the heat from his body as he hesitates for a moment. I raise my arms and place my hands on his chest, feel his heartbeat beneath his thin T-shirt, his warm skin.

  Then he snakes his arms round my waist and pulls me towards him, kissing me deeply. My heart is in my throat and my legs are shaking with relief as I kiss him back, even though I don’t know what this means. Then he pulls away and I look up at him.

  ‘I’ve at least got to get rid of Amy, this isn’t fair.’

  I nod.

  ‘Give me half an hour, then I’ll be back, I promise. I think we need to talk some more.’

  He walks away and leaves me in the hallway. Seconds pass as I stand there, dithering.

  ‘What the hell are you up to, you little minx?’

  Jane’s laughing as she walks towards me, her hands on her hips. ‘Ed’s trying to get rid of poor old Amy, and now I find you standing here looking like the cat that got the cream. What’s going on. Have you two – you know?’

  I tell her what just happened and she looks at me appraisingly. ‘Well, well, well,’ she grins. ‘Never saw that one coming.’

  ‘Me neither. And I don’t have a clue where it’s taking us, either.’

  She cocks her head to one side, studies me. ‘So what’s happening now?’

  ‘I’m not sure. What should I do?’

  ‘Do? You should go to his room and wait for him, you big dork.’ She grins mischievously. ‘I’ll make sure he knows where to find you.’

  ‘Really? Don’t you think that’s a bit – forward? Especially given what he’s just said.’

  ‘Maybe, but who cares? He likes you, you like him; nobody’s asking you to get married. Just go and have a bit of fun.’

  ‘OK.’ I pause, unsure.

  ‘Go on, then.’ Jane pushes me gently towards the stairs. ‘Go and wait for him. And Zo? Good luck.’

  I grin, then turn and walk up the stairs, the blood rushing in my ears. I can’t believe what I’ve just done, what I’m doing. But whether it changes anything or not, at least I get a chance to be with Ed. Who knows whether I’ll get another one. I’ve got to grab it while I can.

  Pushing open Ed’s door, I feel like a naughty schoolgirl. I’ve been in his room before but only with everyone else, never alone, and I feel like an intruder. I am an intruder. I close the door behind me and let my eyes wander round the room. His bed is roughly made, the duvet wrinkled and creased. His guitar sits in the corner in its case, and I smile. The first time he ever played to us was the day I realized how much I liked him. Who doesn’t like a man who plays the guitar? It’s a shame he let it slide later, as life took over. There are three or four plants by the window, and a mini watering can.

  A few photos are stuck haphazardly to the wall next to his bed and, curious, I move closer to have a better look. There’s one of him and his mum smiling happily at the camera, his arm slung protectively round her shoulders. It looks as though it was taken at home but I can’t make out any details. The next one is Ed and four other boys, all half-naked and tanned and holding drinks up to the camera. It must have been the holiday he had before he started uni, but I don’t remember ever having seen this picture before. I recognize only one other boy, his friend Jake, who I met a handful of times in the village when we went home to visit his mum. The rest are strangers. There’s a black-and-white photograph which I recognize as the precious picture of his grandparents. He missed them desperately and he always had this photo somewhere in the house. There are a couple more photos lying on the desk next to the bed and I can’t help picking one of them up. It’s a picture of Ed and a girl I don’t recognize, their arms around each other, smiling happily. She’s very pretty but young and he only looks about fifteen. We talked about exes over the years and I wonder which one she is. I feel a pang of jealousy and feel ridiculous. This is in the past right now, in 1994, let alone in 2013. Her photo’s been taken off the wall, the Blu-Tack still on the back, dumped unceremoniously on the desk with papers and wrappers and pens. What on earth have I got to feel jealous about?

  I move to his bookshelf and see some familiar books there, books that are in my house even now. There aren’t many, just a handful: The Catcher in the Rye, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, a couple of detective novels, a book on gardening and a history of the First World War. There are also a few guitar books, with songs he was teaching himself to play.

  I feel guilt
y for snooping round his room, even though I know more about him than anyone else in the world, so I take a detective novel from the shelf and sit on the bed, cross-legged, to wait for him.

  But it’s hard to concentrate on the words: I’m too busy wondering whether I’m doing the right thing. Should I be letting nature take its course and not trying to change anything? I don’t really know what I’m trying to achieve: I only know that I don’t have much power; this is all I seem to have, so I’m going to use it.

  Straining my ears, I try to hear what’s going on downstairs. Have the others noticed I’m missing? The minutes drag by and there’s no sign of Ed, and I start to wonder whether he’s going to come up. But then finally I hear voices and the sound of the front door closing, then footsteps coming softly up the stairs. As they reach the top I start to feel dizzy, in case it’s not him, or he’s changed his mind, or is angry with me.

  But when he comes through the door his face is plastered with a grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously, and he shuts the door firmly behind him and jumps on the bed next to me, pushing me off balance.

  ‘I wondered if I’d find you in here. Had a good look around?’

  My face flushes. ‘A bit.’ I gesture at the wall. ‘Nice photos.’

  He glances up, nods distractedly.

  ‘Fancy some music?’ He jumps up and picks a CD off the floor, shoves it in the CD player. Seconds later the sound of the Rolling Stones’ ‘Under My Thumb’ comes gently from the speakers and it hits me like a train.

  ‘I love this song,’ he says.

  ‘Me too.’ My voice comes out in a whisper. All I can think about is the moment the curtain closed round his coffin and I feel as though I’m going to be sick. I look away and hope he doesn’t notice the pain etched on my face.

  He sits back on the bed next to me, and stretches himself out, arms behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. I lie down next to him, nothing but our hips touching, and stare at the ceiling too, listening to the music. Finally the song comes to an end and a new one starts, and I can think about something else.