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The music is already pumping when we get there, the sparse furniture pushed back against the walls or shoved outside on the grass, and people are dancing, cans of warm lager in their hands. I’m tempted to join them but Dan has hold of my hand, and when I lean in to tell him I’m off to strut my stuff, he takes the opportunity to steal a kiss.
I plan to end it quickly, but I get kind of sidetracked. I’d forgotten Dan could kiss like this. His dad is a pastor and is a little old-fashioned about things, so Dan hasn’t had a lot of experience. The upside of that is that what he does do, he does very well. By the time he’s finished with me, I’m thrumming.
Oh, why couldn’t you stay this way? I ask him silently. You’re so sweet and loyal and full of devotion. But then I remember the betrayal that is to come. I can’t let myself feel anything for him. I just can’t.
So I push away from Dan and head for the dance floor, playing memories in my head to stop me going back, pinning him against the wall and continuing that kiss: the guilty look on his face when I go into the study unannounced, the fib he told about meeting Sam Macmillan, the way he’s been lying to me about where he’s going once a fortnight for months and months. I use those mental images to keep me angry, because as long as I’m angry I’m safe.
I channel my anger-fuelled adrenalin spike by dancing to the twelve-inch version of ‘Love Shack’. Paul Ferrini comes over, Derwent’s resident stud, and joins the group of girls I’m dancing with. He offers me his bottle of vodka and I take a sip. We dance together after that. Nothing inappropriate, nothing too flirty, I reason to myself, as I feel Dan’s laser-like glare from the other side of the room, even though there’s a glint in Paul’s eyes that tells me it could be more than innocent fun if I wanted it to be. There’s a part of me that enjoys this tiny moment of payback.
When I’m finally so thirsty I can’t keep dancing any more, I return to my boyfriend. ‘Just having fun,’ I tell him as I slump against the wall and neck the paper cup of flat Lambrusco he hands me.
Dan harrumphs. He’s upset with me. But he’s not going to say anything. He’s not going to do anything about it. How very Dan of him. ‘Got a problem with that?’ I ask, unable to stand his passive-aggressive grunts a moment longer.
He fixes his stare on Paul, who is now half draped over Mandy Gomez. ‘You didn’t have to have quite so much fun!’
I’ve had enough of his hypocrisy, maybe not in this life but definitely in the other one, and the mixture of wine and spirits is spurring me on. I push myself off the wall. ‘Fine!’ I shout back at him over the music. ‘If I’m not supposed to be having any fun, then maybe I’ll leave. You’ll be happy then, because I won’t be having any fun at all!’ And then I stare straight ahead and start walking down the corridor to the exit.
‘Maggie? Mags!’ I hear him start to run after me but then the footsteps stop and he shouts something I don’t catch. The cool night air hits me as I open the door and march across the courtyard in the direction of the main gate. There’s no sound behind me but the dying breath of today’s summer breeze in the trees. I exhale with them, loud and long. I can no longer hear him loping along behind me.
Finally.
I don’t want him to follow me. I don’t want to have to deal with my real-life problems, most of which centre around him, while I’m having this weird trance or dream or whatever it is. All I want to be able to do is enjoy it while it lasts.
Oaklands College, a satellite of a larger university, has a beautiful campus. I don’t think I really appreciated it when I went there. Oaklands House, where the administration offices are, is a lovely, white Georgian mansion, surrounded by statues and tended gardens, complete with fountain. Beyond that is a large lawn, always covered in toxic-green goose poop, that leads down to a small man-made lake.
Rather than heading straight back to the flat I share with Becca, I decide to take a walk. I head down towards the black water, trying not to think about what might be sticking to the underneath of my DMs. I stand by the reeds and watch the moon, reflecting on the water, breaking apart and rejoining itself, only to be disassembled again by the ripples of the next goose that swims by on the other side of the pond.
The moment of stillness after my week of frenetic activity allows thoughts and feelings I’ve been keeping firmly at bay to come flooding back in.
I miss Sophie.
I wonder if she’s missing me, if she even knows I’m gone? Until I work out what strange trick my brain is playing on me, I don’t know if she’s quietly grieving, Dan’s solid arm around her shoulder, or whether she’s living it up in Oban or Ullapool while I sleep soundly in my bed. I know she doesn’t need me as much as she once did, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need me at all. I don’t want to be dead. I don’t want her to have to go through that.
I close my eyes.
No.
I can’t think like that.
My stay here is just temporary. It has to be.
When I open my eyes again I’m aware of another presence on the lawn. I can hear squelching footsteps behind me, someone tracking their way from the ugly student union building towards the rose garden.
I feel very safe here, maybe because it still doesn’t feel real to me, but I suddenly remember that one year a girl was assaulted on campus when she walking between the spread-out halls of residence, and I turn.
The figure jumps and then a hand flies to his chest. I don’t think he’d seen me standing there near the reeds.
‘God Almighty, you gave me a fright!’ he says, and I instantly recognise the voice, even after all these years.
‘Jude?’ It’s just as well his name is only one syllable, because I’m not sure I can manage anything more.
The figure walks towards me, his edges becoming less blurry as he gets closer, and when he is ten feet away, I see that it is indeed Jude, the subject of all my recent fantasies, living and breathing right in front of me and smiling that smile that always turned my knees to custard.
‘Meg?’
I inhale. There’s something about hearing him say my name that way that makes me do that. ‘Hi.’
He frowns. ‘What are you doing out here?’
I shrug. I’m not about to tell him I just had a fight with Dan.
He smiles again and I almost start to feel dizzy. ‘Long time no see,’ he says in that lazy, posh-boy drawl he’s still in the process of cultivating, copied from his upmarket circle of friends.
I nod. And then, because I really need to say something else, I croak out, ‘How are you?’
The smile becomes lopsided and I know he’s quietly laughing at me, that he knows he’s got me all off kilter and he likes it. It would have made the other twenty-one-year-old me angry, because I would have thought he was mocking me, but the real me knows that he’s actually pleased to see me. The real me knows that in just under a week he’s going to ask me to run away with him, and he’s going to mean every word. That’s not disdain I see glinting in his eyes but honest-to-goodness pleasure at seeing me again.
He reaches out his hand. ‘Let me walk you home. You know Catriona Webb was attacked out here a couple of months ago?’ He points to a spot only a couple of hundred feet away past the rose garden.
I hesitate. Something inside, some strange kind of instinct, tells me he’s dangerous. Oh, I don’t think he’d ever hurt me, not physically, anyway, but it suddenly occurs to me that this meeting never happened in my old life.
What if I should have been more careful up until now? What if, by not sticking to the same script, I’ve been changing things, causing the repercussions to ripple out like the waves from the swimming goose, until the life I once knew is pulled out of shape and made into something different? While I’d love some things to change, what if I never get home back to Sophie? What if Sophie never even exists?
But even after thinking all of this, I reach out and place my hand in Jude’s. He’s right. With a sexual predator on the loose – maybe someone from outside the college who slipped past the lax security, maybe someone lurking in our midst – I really shouldn’t be wandering around in the dark on my own.
We start walking towards the front gate in silence, but after a couple of minutes he says, ‘So where’s Dave?’
‘Dan,’ I reply, even though I suspect he got the name wrong on purpose.
‘Dan, then,’ he adds, and I hear the smile in his voice.
‘Party in Derwent. I got tired.’
‘And he let you wander out here alone? That’s not very gallant.’
No, it wasn’t, I think, for a moment conveniently forgetting that I’d made it my mission to push ever-affable Dan to his limit. ‘Where were you coming from?’ I ask Jude, so I don’t have to answer his question.
‘Went to hang out with a friend, then we headed down to the bar for a drink.’
I nod. Without any more details I know this ‘friend’ was a girl. I change the subject. ‘So what are you up to after exams?’
He chuckles. ‘You know me … I haven’t got a plan. Dom and I are going to bum around the South of France for a bit and then, well … we’ll just see what crops up.’
I sigh. Seeing as I know ‘bumming around’ leads Jude into a successful career somehow along the way, I feel jealous. I worked hard, but I never amounted to anything more than ‘ordinary’.
‘What about you?’
I sigh again. The twenty-one-year-old me might not have known what the future holds, but I do. In just a few short days my life will be set on a course to suburban mediocrity and simmering discontentment. ‘I’m going to run away with the circus,’ I say wearily.
Jude laughs. Not one of his slightly cynical huffs, but a proper loud one, as if what I said tickles him. ‘Never really thought of you as the running-away type,’ he says and there’s an added edge of velvet to his tone. In an instant, the air around us changes.
I stop, turn and look at him. I know I’m being stupid. I know I could be endangering everything by just being with him, let alone feeling … this … with him, but it’s like having an itch I’ve been trying not to scratch and on a reflex I’m reaching for it, taking my satisfaction in shredding what’s left of my resolve to pieces with my fingernails.
‘Sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.’
He answers me with a smile. A wicked one. ‘You’ve changed.’
I stare him straight in the eyes. ‘Yes, I have.’
He glances towards Derwent Hall and then back to me again. The sounds of the party are drifting through the open common-room windows and across the lake. The geese pay no attention. It’s nothing they haven’t heard before. ‘Then Dave’s a very lucky man.’
I hold my breath and stare back at him. I feel as if my life is teetering on a fulcrum, that if I make one false movement it’ll tip. I know this moment is crucial but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.
All I know is that Dan is going to propose to me in four days and not even the tiniest part of me wants to say yes.
Becca finds me the next day in the canteen, while I’m buying a sad-looking tuna-and-sweetcorn baguette. I deliberately pretended to be asleep this morning, because I didn’t want to talk to her about last night. However, it appears that may not have been the best call, because my boyfriend clearly got to her first. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asks. ‘Dan told me you were a total bitch to him last night.’
I raise my eyebrows and turn to look at her. ‘He said that?’
‘Those weren’t his exact words. But I can read between the lines.’
She picks up a bottle of Appletiser and joins the queue. ’You need to apologise to him.’
Part of me wants to remind her what she said on the phone the night I told her Dan might be cheating on me, but I know that I can’t. She’ll think I’m crazy. I also know she’s right. This Dan has done nothing. If I filter out all the things he will do and will say, and look at the situation objectively, I can only come to one conclusion: I was a total bitch to him last night.
‘I know,’ I reply with a sigh.
After lunch I go in search of Dan. I find him at Al’s, nursing a cup of half-cold tea. I sit down opposite him. ‘Sorry,’ I say and he looks at me warily. ‘Put it down to hormones and the stress of looming exams.’
His jaw remains tight, but there’s a softening in his eyes. ‘We’re alright, then?’
I nod. As alright as we can be in this version of our life, I suppose.
He surprises me by half-standing, leaning across the table and planting a lingering kiss on my lips, right in front of Al and the rest of his motley customers, then he pulls away and looks at me seriously. ‘You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,’ he says. ‘I can hardly believe I’m the lucky man you picked. Always remember that. Always make me remember that.’
A lump forms in my throat and my eyes grow moist. All morning I’ve been imagining what it would be like to say yes to Jude, but now I don’t know what I want. Could I make Dan remember how he feels about me in this moment, even years from now when he really doesn’t want to? Our whole lives could be different if I could.
CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_938554d2-c364-5d9d-9580-d2ed9494b9aa)
Three days. Two days. One.
My brain is counting down to the inevitable. I know it’s coming. Dan’s proposal. Even my fit of extreme bitchiness last week hasn’t seemed to have put him off. If anything, he’s trying harder than ever because of the seed of doubt I’ve planted in his mind.
When I’m with him it really is like the old days and I don’t have to fake the affection in my smile, but when we part … well, that’s when the old memories – the ‘forward’ memories – start creeping in.
What do I do?
Up until now I’ve been doing my best to just go with the flow, do what feels good. It was easy when I thought I’d wake up and realise this has all been a vivid dream, but it’s been over two weeks now. I’m also pretty sure this is no waiting room for heaven.
Which leaves only one possibility: this is real. Somehow I’ve jumped backwards in time, fully conscious of the life I’ve already lived and I’ve got to do it all over again. I’ve always thought the opportunity to go back and change the things you regret would be a blessing. Now the prospect of it frightens me.
If I’m staying here I can’t keep messing around. If I’ve really got to do it all again I’ve got to start thinking about the choices I’m making. Making the wrong one tonight could ruin everything.
I shake my head as I look in the mirror. I’m supposed to be getting ready for a meal out with Dan, but all this mental wrangling is making it a heck of a job to do my mascara. I keep poking myself in the eyeball or blinking before it’s dry and being rewarded with a row of black dots under my lashes and then having to wipe it off and start again. I take a deep breath and will my hand to stay steady.
Dan’s done a good job of being nonchalant about this date, but I know he’s booked a posh Italian restaurant in Putney and afterwards he’ll suggest a walk along the river and then he’ll take my hands, look me in the eye and my future will be sealed.
Last time I was so sure what I wanted.
They say hindsight is twenty-twenty. What they don’t tell you is that it’s crystal sharp and painful.
My heart is telling me to run, to veer off course and to do the things I’d always wished I’d done: to travel, love furiously and have wild affairs, to find a job I love and excel at it, but my head is urging caution. I wish I could dismiss those doubts, but unfortunately I keep coming up with very good points.
What about Sophie?
Could I stand a future without her in it?
Because if I don’t choose Dan, she might never exist. Or even if I do, there might not be any guarantees. What if we have sex ten minutes later that night of conception? Will I end up with a different little girl? Or was Sophie always meant to be? What if she’s more than the sum of two joined sets of chromosomes?
I put my mascara brush down and stare at myself in the mirror. There are clumps on my upper left lashes and a smudge on my right eyelid but I really can’t face another attempt. I’m too tired.
There’s a knock on the door as I’m putting my lipstick on. Red. The sort of colour I never wear any more. The sort of colour I didn’t really opt for much when I was this age the first time around.
Becca answers the door and when I walk into the living room, she and Dan are standing there, laughing at a joke I’ve not been privy to. He turns to look at me and hands me a bunch of red roses. There’s hope in his eyes, but also nervousness.
Becca makes the same sort of noise Sophie used to make when watching cute cat videos on YouTube. ‘Awww … aren’t you sweet,’ she tells Dan and then she gently prises the roses from my hand. ‘Why don’t you two get off? I’ll put these in water.’
I want to snatch them back. I want to tell Becca I’d rather do it myself, to delay the moment when I have to walk out that front door with Dan and be on my own with him, but I don’t. I don’t know how to say it without seeming rude. Or slightly insane.
Becca practically shoves us out the front door and into the hallway. ‘I won’t wait up!’ she jokes and, as the door closes behind us, I wonder if she knows, if Dan has confided in her, and two things strike me – one, that I wonder why I hadn’t twigged that he was going to propose this night the first time around, because I had a suspicion at the time he was working up to it and, two, that I’m jealous. I don’t like the fact that my husband-to-be and my best friend have shared a secret and left me out of it. Hypocritical, really, when I’m seriously considering breaking his heart this evening. Until I came back here I hadn’t realised how selfish I can be, how wrapped up in my own stuff that I don’t see what’s going on under my nose.
‘Shall we?’ Dan says, and offers me his arm. I smile at him, a smile that’s warm and bright and about as substantial as candy floss.
Dinner is a blur. I eat, I drink, I nod and laugh in the right places, but the only sensation I can really remember when it’s over is a growing sense of panic. As Dan takes my hand and heads towards the river my heart starts to pound. I can hear the echo of it rushing in my ears.
We walk past the crowded pubs with drinkers spilling out across the narrow street and onto the embankment. We keep going until their laughter and chatter is more distant, until we reach the rowing club. There’s a break in the railings and we walk down to the far edge of the shallow concrete slope the rowers use to put their boats in the river. As we stand there, staring across at the tree-lined bank on the other side, I can hear the music of the water slapping against the hulls of the little motor boats moored close by.
Dan seems paralysed. I keep shooting glances in his direction, wondering when he’s going to make his move, but he just keeps staring at the darkness in front of him. Was he like this before? I wonder. If he was, I didn’t notice it. I remember the night being balmy and warm, the lapping of the gentle river waves romantic.
Just when I think he’s chickened out, he sucks in a breath and turns to me. We’ve been still for so long it makes me jump, and that makes him smile. The serious look he’s been wearing for the last ten minutes vanishes.
He reaches for my hands and I swallow.
‘You know how I feel about you …’ he says softly.
My heart can’t help cracking a little at his words. How can you love and hate a person at the same time? I want to slap him across the face, hard enough to make my fingers sting, but I also want to kiss him.
‘… and I know that we’re young and everyone is going to say this is a bad idea, but I can’t imagine my life without you in it.’
