Before You Go Read online

  Before I can speak, Ed pushes his chair back and stands up.

  ‘I need more booze. Same again?’ He nods his head at my empty glass.

  ‘Please.’

  I watch him at the bar again. I imagine going over there, snaking my arms round his waist and pressing my lips against the soft skin of his neck. Other people would. Jane probably would. But I know it would be wrong and I reflect that I’m not sure I want to be taking relationship advice from Jane either, given her future record. Then I feel guilty for the treacherous thought.

  Ed returns with full glasses and seems to have composed himself a bit.

  ‘Right, let’s move on. What were we talking about before we reached that conversation cul-de-sac?’

  Pleased to have the tension lifted, I smile and lean forward. We spend the next couple of hours chatting about friends, family, reminiscing. It actually feels pretty good just being with Ed again, free of burdens. I miss this Ed. It’s been too long since our conversations weren’t loaded with meaning, tiptoeing round each other to avoid a row.

  The bell rings and the barman shouts, ‘Last orders!’ I jump, looking round at the emptying pub. I’m quite drunk, and the room’s spinning a little.

  Ed looks at his watch. ‘Oops,’ he says, with a lopsided smile. ‘I think it’s a bit late for dinner.’

  ‘Yes, a bit.’

  ‘I think I’d better get you home.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ I don’t want the night to end, not like this, but I’m not sure what to do about it so I follow Ed’s lead and stand and pull on my coat, wobbling a bit as I pick up my bag from the floor.

  ‘Whoops.’ I grin and Ed grabs my hand and pulls me through the door. It’s turned bitterly cold outside and our breath forms clouds around us as we stand slightly shocked outside the pub.

  ‘I’m taking you home. To sleep,’ he adds, with a grin.

  ‘Don’t be silly, you live on the other side of the city.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I’m not letting you go home on your own. I’ll be all right.’

  We walk hand in hand to the Tube station and sit side by side on the train. I watch our reflections in the window opposite as we rattle through the tunnel. We look like any ordinary couple and I shiver. If only.

  Ed doesn’t let go of my hand the whole way. Then the train pulls slowly into Tufnell Park station and we both stand and get off. My heart’s hammering with the possibility of what could come next. Last time we just said goodbye and I said I’d wait for him to sort things out. This time, with gin softening my thoughts, even I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet.

  I turn to face him.

  ‘You don’t have to walk me home. It’s late. You’ll miss your train.’

  He glances at the clock on the board. It’s 11.36. He nods, but doesn’t move.

  ‘I really enjoyed tonight,’ he says instead. Then he leans towards me and his lips gently brush mine. He pulls back and looks at me, as if to ask if it’s OK, and I give him a tiny nod. He leans in again, and my legs start to shake as he kisses me, his lips cool against mine.

  The station platform is empty but it could have been packed to the rafters and I wouldn’t have noticed. For this minute, it’s just me and Ed and no one else in the world.

  Finally, he pulls away. ‘So?’ The word is loaded with questions.

  And suddenly, I know what I’m going to do. I shake my head, almost imperceptibly, but it’s clear what I mean.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ed, I just can’t. Not now. It’s not right.’

  Ed nods and takes a tiny step backwards.

  ‘I know. You’re right. Of course.’

  I shove my hand in my bag and find a chewed-up old biro, then I take hold of Ed’s hand and carefully write my phone number across it, before letting it drop back to his side.

  ‘Ring me when you can?’

  He nods, and then before I can change my mind I turn and walk away, glancing back only once to see him watching me until I disappear from sight. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done, knowing I may never see him again, but it’s the right thing to do.

  It’s not until I’m back at home in my own bed that I allow myself to cry, as I remember Ed walking away from me, when all I wanted to do was hold on to him for the rest of my life. And never let him go.

  And with my face comforted by my soft pillow, the tears subside and I drift off to sleep, hopeful for another tomorrow.

  4

  5 June 1999

  A cup of tea sits cooling on the kitchen counter and I listen to Jane moving around in her room. She’ll be through soon, so I’m enjoying a few minutes alone first.

  When I woke up this morning and realized it was happening again, my heart soared. Another day with Ed. When I’d begged for more time with him in the dark days after his death, I’d imagined what I’d say and do in a few minutes with him: I’d tell him how sorry I was, how much I loved him, and how I would always love him. I’d pictured hugging him, kissing him, and just touching him: all the things I wasn’t able to do any more. And now I was getting to do just that.

  Despite myself, a smile spreads across my face.

  ‘What are you grinning like a loon about?’ Jane’s shuffled into the room, her hair dishevelled and her eyes bleary. She’s stifling a yawn.

  ‘Nothing. Blimey, you look rough.’

  She chuckles. ‘Thanks. I feel like the walking dead.’ She glances at me again, suspiciously. ‘Unlike you. Why are you so chipper this morning?’

  ‘No reason.’ Which is true. At least, not one I can remember.

  Jane raises her eyebrows. ‘You’re not – ’ her eyes flick towards my bedroom door – ‘with someone, are you?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I’m just happy to see you, of course.’ I grin and she picks up a cushion and throws it at my head. I duck just in time and it lands on the floor behind me, barely missing a lamp.

  She pads over to the kettle.

  ‘Coffee. I need coffee.’ She reaches up and pulls a jar of instant from the cupboard and spoons it into her mug.

  ‘Let me make you a real one,’ I say, jumping up from my stool.

  She looks at me again as if she’s about to say something, then changes her mind and steps aside. ‘OK,’ she shrugs. ‘Thanks.’ She heaves herself onto a stool and lowers her head to rest on her arms on the tabletop.

  ‘So what did you get up to last night?’ I say, clattering around with spoons, hoping she’ll shed some light on things.

  She frowns. ‘What, after you left, you mean?’

  Shit. ‘Yes, well, obviously. So did you go anywhere else?’

  She sighs. ‘Well, after dinner me and Tom went to Turnmills but it was crap so we only stayed for about an hour. Then, well, he went home alone. Again.’

  Oh God, not Tom. Apart from being a total arse, he treated Jane terribly in the year or so they were together. Always messed her about, dropped her like a stone when it suited him. Turned out he was seeing someone else at the same time, but we didn’t find that out until much later.

  ‘He’s cheating on you. Just tell him to piss off.’ The words come out before I can think about them and too late I realize my mistake.

  ‘What?’ Jane’s head snaps up.

  ‘Well, you know. It’s obvious.’

  ‘Is it? And what makes you so sure?’ Her voice is cool, angry. I try to backtrack.

  ‘Nothing, never mind. But he does treat you like shit, Jane. He always leaves you in the lurch, never wants to commit to anything. There’s got to be something going on, hasn’t there?’

  She looks at me, hurt. ‘Has there?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know. It just seems . . . Listen, ignore me, I’m talking rubbish. I just don’t like seeing you hurt, and you could do so much better. You deserve so much better.’

  She looks at me a moment longer, clearly deciding whether to forgive me. To my relief, she sighs.

  ‘Sorry, Zo. I do know you’re right, I just – I don’t get it. One minute he seems to reall
y like me, the next it’s like he doesn’t fancy me and can’t get away quick enough.’

  ‘You shouldn’t put up with it.’ I pour the water into the cafetière and almost scald my eyebrows on the steam.

  She sighs. ‘I know, I know. But he’s just so . . .’ She looks for the right word. ‘Cute.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘That’s one way to describe him.’ I perch on the stool again while I wait for the coffee to brew. ‘Irritating is more the word I was looking for.’

  She smiles weakly. ‘Yeah, I know.’ There’s silence for a few seconds, then she grins impishly and adds, ‘Anyway, you can talk.’

  I sigh. I know what’s coming. ‘Ed.’ It’s a statement, not a question.

  ‘Yes, Ed. Come on, Zo, you know what I’m talking about. You have a great night together, and then he buggers off and leaves you pining for four months, and still no word. That’s more than irritating. That’s just rude.’

  ‘I know, I know. But to be fair, he does have a girlfriend.’

  ‘So what? He promised to sort it. Don’t you think four months is a pretty long time to wait around?’

  ‘Yes, of course it is. But we’ve been over and over this. I’m not chasing him again. He can come to me.’

  ‘And what if he doesn’t?’

  ‘Well, then I’ll be heartbroken for the rest of my life and never forgive myself and end up a lonely old spinster, pining for the man I lost.’

  ‘See, that’s what I thought. So what are you going to do about it? It’s all very well you giving me advice, but what about you?’

  I sigh. ‘Yes, I know. I do. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I should ring him.’

  Jane claps her hands together and bounces up and down on the stool. ‘See! This is what I mean. You’ve got to do something, you can’t just let life pass you by. You know the old saying – it’s better to regret something you did than something you didn’t do.’

  ‘Isn’t that a song?’

  She grins. ‘Maybe. But it’s still true.’

  I grin back. It might be ironic, her advising me in her situation, but perhaps, without knowing it, she’s hit the nail on the head. Perhaps this is what I can do to change things this time. Perhaps I’m meant to ring Ed, hurry things along, stop waiting around. It can’t do any harm, at least.

  ‘OK, I’ll do it.’

  ‘What, really?’ She still looks suspicious.

  ‘Yes, really.’ I nod for emphasis.

  She jumps down and runs across the room, coming back with the phone in her hand. ‘Go on then, do it now, before you chicken out.’

  I take the receiver, my hand shaking. I think about speaking to Ed again, and I tense. I don’t want to mess anything up. I’m still not exactly sure what day it is; how can I be certain he’s ready to be with me?

  ‘I’ll do it later.’

  ‘Oh, you wuss. Why not now?’

  ‘I just – I’m not ready. It’s too early.’ It sounds lame even to my ears. ‘I’ll do it later, I promise.’

  Jane narrows her eyes, disbelieving.

  ‘I will. Honestly. Just give me time to get used to the idea.’ And to work out what I’m going to say.

  ‘OK. But I’m not letting you get away with this, Zoe Morgan. I’m not sure I could stand listening to you banging on about it any more anyway.’ She grins as I swipe for her, and nearly falls off the stool. ‘Anyway, enough wasting a precious Saturday talking about bloody men. Haven’t we got a day out planned?’

  Have we?

  ‘Course. Let’s just have another drink, then I’m all yours.’ I jump up and open the cupboard above the kettle and pull out a mug saying ‘I love to shop’ on it and another plain blue one, part of a set. The blue one has a small chip on the handle. It’s funny how I haven’t thought about these things for years – the chipped mugs, the retro clock on the kitchen wall that ticked too loudly, the rarely used herbs and spices lined up neatly in the spice rack next to the toaster. Yet here they are, as familiar and normal as they ever were, as though no time has passed at all.

  I pour the coffee and pass Jane her shopping mug, then pour myself a small cup.

  ‘Why are you drinking coffee?’ Jane says, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.

  ‘Er . . .’ I mumble. ‘Not sure, I’m not really with it yet.’ I pour the coffee down the sink, cursing myself. I never used to drink coffee, was almost evangelical about how I couldn’t stand the bitter taste of it. Later I developed a bit of an addiction, but here, now, in 1999, I still hated it, and Jane knows that, of course.

  She looks at me a second longer, then turns to switch on the radio as I busy myself preparing a cup of tea. ‘Hey Boy Hey Girl’ by the Chemical Brothers blares out across the kitchen and the coffee incident is instantly forgotten as we grin at the choice of song.

  ‘Chooon!’ Jane yells, and we both bounce up and down for the next five minutes, giggling like children.

  It turns out we’ve got a Saturday shopping day planned, followed by a night out drinking, and an hour or so later we walk to the Tube station arm in arm. I’ve slung on some jeans, Docs and a black vest top; Jane’s in her usual girlie get-up of a strappy summer dress with a belt cinched in around the middle. The sun’s warm on my face, the heat bouncing from the walls and pavement onto our freshly washed skin. For the first time I notice the freckles have come out on my arms and realize it must have been warm and sunny for a while now. London feels different when the sun comes out; it’s as though it strips off its usual reservations and becomes a fun-loving teenager, ready for anything. Even the rustling of the leaves in the breeze sound like a low chuckle, and the birds tweet their reply in song. I love it.

  We spend a lovely day browsing the shops on Oxford Street and Carnaby Street (I can’t help glancing at the Shakespeare’s Head as we pass, remembering the night with Ed), eating noodles, trying on ridiculous outfits. Even if I don’t see Ed, today has been worth every minute of the time I’ve spent in it. I’d forgotten how to have fun, how to relax and just enjoy myself – and so had Jane. This day has been special.

  Finally, about five o’clock, we head home laden down with bags, our feet aching from pounding the pavements all day. My heart feels heavy with the anticipation of the promise I made Jane this morning, that I’d ring Ed. I’m terrified of what this change might mean – and yet I’m excited too.

  The flat feels cool as we come in, and I head to my room to dump my bags and get changed. I’m just admiring a new pair of jeans I treated myself to when Jane shouts my name. She sounds panicked.

  I drop the jeans and rush to the lounge to see her stricken face.

  ‘What? What’s happened?’

  She’s starting to scare me. But then her face breaks into a grin. ‘Ed,’ she whispers, flapping her arms crazily in the direction of the answerphone.

  ‘Ed?’ I look at the phone as though I’m expecting to see him sitting there, then back at Jane’s face. ‘What about him?’

  Still grinning crazily she leans over and presses the play button on the answerphone. There’s a bit of a crackling noise as though the person on the other end has dropped their phone, then a deep, familiar voice comes into the room, clear as a bell.

  ‘Hi, Zo, it’s me. Ed. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long but I was trying to sort things out, and then, well . . . Well, ring me back, yeah?’

  He leaves his number, then the phone makes a long, low droning noise, and goes silent. I stand there for a minute, staring at it, as though I’m expecting something else to happen.

  ‘He rang!’ Jane practically squeaks, jumping up and down next to me. ‘Zoe? Hey, Earth to Zo, are you hearing me? Ed just rang you!’

  I look at her and can’t help a grin escaping.

  ‘He did, didn’t he? He really did!’

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there, ring him back,’ she says. She grabs an old magazine from the side and rummages in her handbag for a pen, then presses the play button for a third time. We stand there as Ed’s voice fills the room again,
then at the end Jane frantically scribbles the number down across the top of the magazine cover, checking to make sure she’s got it right.

  She hands it to me. ‘Go on!’

  I take it from her with shaking hands. ‘Bugger off, then, I can’t ring him with you standing there earwigging.’ I swipe her arm with the mag and she grins, then scampers off towards her room and shuts the door with a dramatic slam.

  My heart’s hammering wildly as I pick up the phone and dial the number. Jane’s writing is such a scrawl I can only just make it out, but finally I hear the ringing sound at the other end.

  I’m fully prepared for the answerphone to kick in, so I’m taken by surprise when someone picks up, and I gasp.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Er, hi, um, it’s me,’ I say stupidly. ‘Sorry, I mean Zoe. It’s Zoe.’

  ‘Hey, you,’ he says, his voice warm. ‘I’m so glad you rang back.’

  I can practically hear his smile down the phone, and I feel myself start to relax.

  ‘So . . .’ I start, unsure how to ask him what I really want to know – whether he’s available – even though I know the answer.

  ‘Yes,’ he says simply. ‘It’s over with Jenny.’

  My breath comes out in a rush and I laugh nervously. ‘Oh . . .’ I trail off, unsure what else to say.

  Ed steps in. ‘So.’ There’s a pause and I listen to him breathing softly down the phone. Then he takes a deep breath and says, ‘Look—’

  ‘I guess we should meet up,’ I finish for him.

  ‘I guess we should. The question is, your place or mine?’

  ‘Ha, you charmer.’ Then: ‘You’re still in London?’

  ‘Yes, still in London. So do you want to meet later, go for dinner?’

  I think about it. All I really want to do is spend the night wrapped in Ed’s arms and never let him go. But we have to have a first date and this is it; and dinner, well, dinner is normal. I could do with a little bit of normal. ‘Yes. I’d love to.’

  We arrange to meet in Covent Garden and go to a little Italian restaurant he knows. I know it well too, it’s where we spent many dates over the years, but I pretend it’s all new to me.