Then and Always (2 page)

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Jimmy reassured me, giving my shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Matt would be crazy to look at her when he’s got you.”

“Hmm,” was all I managed in reply, surprised to feel that the warmth of his words had ignited a small blush. I quickly turned away.

Catching my reflection in the restaurant’s window, I didn’t feel my old friend was being entirely honest. If he was, then he seriously should think about getting his eyes tested. I was certainly never going to elicit the kind of reaction from men that Cathy did. Long dark hair, fashionably poker straight, big eyes that hardly functioned at all without their contact lenses, and lips that were a little too wide. A pleasant enough face, but not stunning, and I was honest enough to know I was never going to stop traffic. And that had never worried me before, but since being with Matt, who was, let’s face it, undeniably gorgeous, I seemed more aware than ever of some of my shortcomings.

“And just remember, to me you’ll always be the freckly-faced
girl with the gap in her front teeth, whose ears stuck out.”

“I was ten years old then,” I protested. “Thank God for orthodontia. Do you really have to remember every damn thing about my geeky childhood?”

“I can’t help myself,” Jimmy replied. I would have pursued that strange comment if we hadn’t just then been joined by the others.

“C’mon then,” urged Matt, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly. “Let’s go before they give our table to someone else.”

We walked en masse through the large double doors, arms linked or thrown casually around a neighboring shoulder, never realizing that in the next half hour our lives would be changed irrevocably.

We were led directly to our table, which was situated at the very front of the restaurant beside a large plate-glass window, where we had an excellent view of the high street and the church perched high up on the hill. As we wove between the tables to reach our seats, I could see Cathy drawing several appreciative glances from the male diners. Matt too hadn’t gone unnoticed—but in his case by the women. I tried to stifle that small worried voice that had been whispering in my ear for several months.

Matt was a very attractive guy; he naturally drew the attention of other women, it was only to be expected, and while part of me relished the fact that it was
my
side he was standing by,
my
hand that he held in his as we slalomed between the closely packed tables, there was an unspoken worry that sooner or later I would have to address: what would happen when he was faced with temptation when we were apart? Would we be one of the couples who survived the university
separation, or would we become victims of the curse of the long-distance relationship?

This line of thinking was interrupted by the softly accented Italian waiter, indicating we had arrived at our reserved table. Tight for space in the crowded restaurant, they had pushed two tables together to accommodate our party, resulting in a rather narrow gap by a concrete pillar. Someone would have to squeeze past it to reach the seat beside the window.

Wishing Sarah had got there first—she was much smaller than me—I nevertheless managed to maneuver through the gap without getting stuck. Matt slid into the chair beside me as the others found their places and sat down. Jimmy took the window seat directly opposite me, with Sarah claiming the chair on his right-hand side. I refused to look at the undignified scrabble of who was sitting by Cathy on the other side of Matt. I guessed pole position was opposite her anyway, with its excellent view down the front of her top. Under cover of the tablecloth, I tugged down on the hem of my own T-shirt, lowering the neckline by an inch or two, then felt myself blushing like an idiot when Jimmy noticed.

“What’s so funny, Jimmy?” Matt asked, and suddenly, by some horrible coincidence, the whole table fell silent to hear his response. I knew my eyes were frantically telegraphing him not to say anything, but I needn’t have worried. Jimmy calmly picked up the menu and gave a casual shrug.

“Nothing, just thinking of something my uncle said earlier, that’s all.”

While everyone else followed Jimmy’s lead and began to study their menus, I looked across and mouthed a silent “thank you.” The smile he gave me back was so full of warm affection and friendship that for some strange reason my
stomach flipped erratically. Confused, I broke eye contact and pretended to be deeply interested in the merits of the lasagna versus the cannelloni.

Matt’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against him as we chose our meal. When I did look over to Jimmy a few minutes later, he was deep in conversation with Sarah, and although he caught my glance and gave me a small smile, my stomach remained exactly where it should have been.

It was impossible to ignore the nostalgia around the table, and the air of impending separation was almost as apparent as the aroma of tomato and garlic wafting around us. While there were still a few weeks before I left for my place at Brighton, Trevor and Phil were both going to leave after the weekend, and Sarah only a few days later. Somehow I couldn’t really imagine the remains of our group—Cathy, Jimmy, Matt, and myself—all getting together in the remaining weeks.

This sudden reluctance to leave struck me unexpectedly with its intensity. It wasn’t as though I didn’t want to go away to university. Of course I did. I’d certainly worked hard enough to achieve the grades I needed to get on my journalism course. It was just that tonight it was hitting home for the first time that this was really the end of a very important chapter in my life.

Just for the moment I couldn’t focus on the new beginnings, because all I could think of was leaving behind my boyfriend and my two closest friends. Ridiculously, I felt my eyes begin to water, and I hastily looked away, preferring the dazzling glare of the rays of the dwindling sun to the reaction from those around the table if they knew I’d been crying.

“You okay?” asked Jimmy softly, leaning forward so only I could hear his words.

Matt was placing the drinks order, so it was safe to reply.

“Oh, you know, just feeling a little emotional, I guess. Changes coming, saying goodbye to everyone, stuff like that …” I trailed off, expecting some sort of ridicule, but instead was surprised when his hand reached across the table and encircled my fingers, which were fiddling restlessly with the cutlery.

His grip felt oddly different; not the familiar clasp I had known since nursery school. Perhaps it was just the rough texture of the skin from his summer gardening, or was it more in the way my hand felt so small, so tightly encompassed in his own?

I felt, rather than saw, Matt’s slow awareness of Jimmy’s gesture, but rather than a hurried retreat, Jimmy gave my hand one last squeeze and took his time before withdrawing his own. In an instinctive response, Matt drew his body closer toward mine, reclaiming both my attention and his territory, and it was only after a moment or two that I became aware that when taking back his hand, Jimmy had managed to transfer the lucky penny he had picked up outside the restaurant from his hand to mine.

I held the coin tightly in my palm, imbuing the small copper disc with more significance than it deserved. It was typical of Jimmy to offer to share even the possibility of good fortune with me. We had, after all, shared so much for so many years. He was more like my brother than my friend: in fact, when I thought about it, his whole family were closer to me than many of my own relatives.

Jimmy’s mother and mine had been very good friends long before Jimmy and I were even born, and when my mum had died suddenly when I was just a toddler, Jimmy’s family had reached out and drawn both Dad and me into their lives and their hearts. I realized with a shock that my dad wasn’t the
only family I’d be leaving behind when I went away; it was going to be almost as tough saying goodbye to Jimmy’s parents and his younger brother.

When the two bottles of wine Matt had ordered were delivered to the table, everyone took a glass to raise a toast.

“To going away …”

“To not dropping out …!”

“To our new lives …”

“… and old friends …”

The last was echoed by each person around the table as glasses clinked together, catching a brilliant prism of evening sunlight.

As the others sat joking and bantering lightheartedly, I took a second to look around the table, trying to take a mental snapshot of the moment. I knew we were all destined to make new friends at our various colleges and universities, but just now it was hard to believe that the new bonds we would forge could ever be as strong as those that threaded between the seven of us around the table.

As my eye fell on each friend, a memory or emotion erupted in response. So many, it was almost impossible to separate them, but each recollection was another brick in the wall of our friendship, which I had to believe would remain solid no matter where we would all end up.

When I looked at Sarah, I couldn’t help but repress a smile. In a strange way I already felt jealous of the new friends she would be making on her art course. Sarah was crazy, loyal, funny, and incredibly caring, and her friendship was one of my most treasured possessions. Whoever they were, these new friends didn’t know how lucky they were.

And then there was Jimmy. I’d spent so much of the summer stressing over how it would feel to be apart from Matt
that whenever the thought of also saying goodbye to Jimmy had intruded, I’d hastily stuffed it away to the back of my mind. I knew it was strange, but the thought of not seeing my old friend on a regular basis was just so momentous, so hard to absorb, that I couldn’t even allow myself the time to contemplate it.

I realized with some disappointment that I wasn’t nearly as ready as I should be to let go of any of them.

As we waited for our meals to arrive, I glanced occasionally through the window beside me and up the road to the church. The sun was just beginning its leisurely descent and the sky was bathed in diluted shades of red and gold, turning the usually drab high street into a magical abstract of colors. There were few pedestrians, but the lines of parked cars flanking both sides of the road meant that the pubs and restaurants were all doing good business that evening. From somewhere in the distance the distinctive wail of a siren could be heard.

“Rachel, are you listening?”

I drew my attention away from the scene outside and realized that Jimmy had been speaking.

“Sorry, I was miles away … what were you saying?”

His eyes flickered for a second toward Matt, who was chatting to Cathy at that moment on his other side. Jimmy didn’t look comfortable having to repeat whatever it was I had just missed.

“I was asking if you weren’t too busy tomorrow afternoon, if you’d be able to come round to my house.”

The oddly hesitant request wasn’t like him at all, and I found myself confused, both by his tone and by the formality of the invitation. Jimmy and I usually just pitched up at each other’s front doors without asking, no invites necessary.

“Sure, I can do that. I was intending to come round to see your mum and dad again before I left, anyway.”

“Actually, they won’t be home tomorrow.” Again, that odd, uncertain tone. “No one will, just me. I … er … I just wanted to have a quiet word with you. Is that okay?”

Was it the red glow from the sun, or was he actually blushing?

He seemed anxious for an answer, so I quickly reassured him. “Yes, that’s fine. I’ll see you around two o’clock?”

He nodded then and sighed, as though some dreaded task had been accomplished, which only served to heighten my curiosity. I guessed I would have to wait until the next day to find out what was on his mind.

The waiters arrived with the laden plates and began to set them in front of us. Straightening up in his seat, Matt removed his right arm from where it had been resting around my waist, pausing to plant a firm kiss unexpectedly on my lips.

“Pleeeease … people are trying to eat round here!” groaned Sarah.

I grinned back at Matt and held my face very still while he tucked a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. It was an insignificant gesture, but later I would wonder what might have happened to us all if he hadn’t been leaning so close and seen the car.

“What the hell …!” he cried.

I spun around to follow his gaze, my mouth dropping in amazement, as I saw a small red car, with all four wheels off the tarmac, catapult into view over the crest of the hill. Moments later a second car appeared, driving almost as fast and only slightly less recklessly, its flashing blue lights and discordant siren shattering the peace of the summer evening. In
horror I saw a small van emerge from a side street, its driver having to stand on his brakes to avoid losing the best part of its front end as the red car hurtled past. The red car grazed the sides of several parked vehicles, showering the pursuing police car in a cloud of red-hot sparks.

The shrieking scream of rubber from the braking van alerted the rest of the group to the oncoming danger, but Matt was way ahead of us and shot to his feet.

“He’s lost it! He’s out of control. That car’s going to crash! Get away from the window! NOW!”

I felt Matt’s tight grip on my shoulder as he got to his feet, screaming out his warning. The panic became infectious as people around us also began to shout. Distractedly I noticed the waiter dropping two of our plates of food on the floor before retreating hastily away from our table.

Well, that’s made a horrible mess
, I found myself thinking stupidly.

It wasn’t as though I couldn’t see what was happening, or that I hadn’t fully understood my boyfriend’s cry of warning. It was just that everything had suddenly and strangely slipped into slow motion. There seemed to be no immediate rush; there was plenty of time to get away from the table. No need to have dropped two perfectly good dinners in the process.

Around me was a blur of movement. I saw Jimmy and Sarah get out of their seats and run over to where Phil was standing, screaming for the rest of us to move. Matt’s hand remained pressed in the hollow of my shoulder as I felt him half drag me from my chair. With his other hand he propelled Cathy, who was standing beside him, away from the table.