The Time of Our Lives Read online

  We’re interrupted by the bang of the front door. We quickly separate.

  ‘Hey honey,’ Cleo says, in the sickly sweet voice of hers, as she enters the room.

  ‘Hi,’ he says awkwardly.

  ‘Oh, hey Luca,’ she adds, noticing me.

  ‘Hi,’ I reply, equally as awkward.

  Cleo pulls a face, like maybe she’s picking up on something, but she quickly lets it go.

  ‘I’m glad you’re still here,’ she tells him. ‘I tried your flat and when you weren’t there … anyway, you were right, of course. It was wrong of me to expect you to give up the chance to write, when it’s what you want to do. So … I have a surprise for you.’

  Cleo pulls two envelopes from her bag.

  ‘In this envelope are two tickets to Thailand that, I admit, I might have been a little premature in buying. But in this one is the URL for the website I’m having built for you. You’d be wasted at that job you were going to take. Start a travel blog, be your own boss – I believe in you.’

  Bloody Cleo, with her endless supply of her parents’ money, with her sudden tickets out of nowhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d booked them ages ago, without waiting for Tom’s approval, and this is just some stunt to cover up how controlling she can be. She always has to have her way.

  ‘I’ll leave you two to it,’ I tell him.

  ‘Luca,’ he says.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I tell him. ‘Enjoy your trip.’

  Chapter 27

  Now

  Well, I’ve found my shoes.

  I know they say that things you have lost will always be in the last place you would think to look for them, but this is ridiculous. It must be true though, because the last place I expected to find my missing shoes was under my feet on the dance floor.

  I don’t know who moved them from the toilets, where they’ve been, or how they ended up on the dance floor, but, hey, at least I’ve found them. Although there is quite a significant scratch in the red sole on one of them, so I doubt I can return them now. I suppose I’ll try and cover it up with a red Sharpie, before returning them to their box, and putting them away until the next wedding.

  There’s also quite a significant scratch on my face too, because I broke my fall with my cheek, hitting it on a floor speaker.

  I’m currently in the office, trying to catch my breath after my tumble.

  ‘Did you lose consus … consciousness?’ Ed asks, spluttering out his words.

  I stare at him for a moment.

  ‘Luca,’ he shouts in my face. ‘It’s Ed, can you hear me?’

  ‘I can hear you,’ I reply, unimpressed. ‘I’m just trying to work out who I’d rather get first aid from: the hotel receptionist who just admitted she didn’t pay much attention during her first aid course, or a really good doctor who is absolutely hammered …’

  ‘Well, you’ve chosen me now,’ he says. ‘So, did you lose … did you pass out?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ I reply.

  I’m sitting on the desk in the office behind reception – just me, Ed, and a first aid kit.

  ‘Well, I don’t think you need stitches,’ he says as he examines the cut on my cheek.

  While I was waiting for him to fetch the first aid kit, I used my phone to take a look at my face. It’s bleeding, but the cut is only maybe an inch long. It’s not attractive, by any stretch of the imagination, but it could have been much worse. I feel so fortunate that this the extent of my injuries.

  ‘Will it scar?’ I ask.

  ‘Nah,’ he replies. ‘I do need to clean it though. Are you going to be a brave girl?’

  I laugh at his baby voice. Kids must love seeing Dr Ed. He’s just got this warm and friendly way of making you feel at ease – even when he’s drunk, it turns out.

  ‘Thanks for helping me,’ I say. ‘I bet you didn’t think you’d wind up actually working on your day off, did you?’

  I wince as the antiseptic touches my cheek.

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ he says. ‘After what you did for me on New Year’s Eve …’

  I’m sure it’s just the alcohol crying, but I notice Ed get a little bit choked up.

  ‘Ed, listen to me, you have nothing to thank me for. Everything you’ve achieved, you’ve done that all on your own. What Zach and I did for you …’

  ‘It was everything,’ he replies. ‘No one has ever done anything like that for me. No one ever will. And I’ll never get the chance to do something like that for someone.’

  ‘You literally save the lives of children every day,’ I remind him. ‘It would be worth it, just for that. And, anyway, you’re going to make sure this doesn’t leave a scar. My looks are all I’ve got going for me.’

  Ed laughs as he places a couple of little sticky strips over my cut. I know I was joking, but did he have to find it so funny?

  He takes a seat next to me, so I hook my arm around his and place my head on his shoulder.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask him.

  ‘The guilt eats me up – all the time. Sometimes, I’m not even thinking about it, I’m playing with the kids or cooking and … it just pops into my head.’

  ‘You can’t let the guilt ruin your life,’ I tell him. ‘Everything worked out OK – I know, it could’ve been worse, but you learned your lesson, right?’

  ‘It’s not just the accident,’ he says. ‘I feel so guilty about … the ripples.’

  ‘Ed—’

  ‘I know, I know. But if I hadn’t made you late home, maybe Tom wouldn’t have even met Cleo – maybe you two would be together now, like you should be.’

  ‘You can’t think like that,’ I insist.

  I can’t think like that.

  ‘But if you hadn’t been helping me – Zach too. I’ll always feel guilty … what happened … Fifi and Clarky.’

  ‘Ed, you need to calm down, buddy,’ I say, turning to face him. ‘You’re not even making sense now – and to think, I let you give me medical treatment.’

  I laugh to lighten the mood, but I can see something bubbling away inside him. A dangerous mixture of guilt, upset and alcohol, making one hell of a strong cocktail. One that’s about to come back up.

  ‘When we got back that night … I just wanted to get showered and get to bed. Someone was in the house bathroom, so I went into Clarky’s en-suite.’

  When we moved in we drew straws to see who got the bedroom with its own bathroom. I really, really wanted it, but Clarky got it, and he wouldn’t let anyone else use it, even if the house bathroom was occupied and his was not.

  ‘Everyone was busy partying so I snuck into his room,’ he says. ‘I didn’t think he’d mind – I didn’t really care. But when I came out of the bathroom, he was in bed … with Fi.’

  ‘Oh!’ I say. ‘I didn’t know that. She never told me that …’

  I can’t believe she didn’t tell me – we told each other everything. I suppose, looking back, it looks bad for her. That night, Zach was going to tell her that he had feelings for her and when he didn’t show up, she must’ve been upset. I guess she thought that sleeping with his friend would make her feel better.

  So much makes sense now. On New Year’s Eve, Ed and I arrived home long before Zach did. So when he finally got home, I suppose the damage had already been done – Fi had already slept with Clarky. Then, after Fi found out Zach had ‘been in an accident’ she threw herself at him, and that’s how they finally wound up together. I suppose we’ll file it under fate, like we are doing with everything else today. But she can’t have been out of Clarky’s bed more than an hour before she ended up with Zach …

  ‘I feel bad for never telling Zach – he’s supposed to be my friend. I just feel like everything is my fault,’ Ed sobs.

  I thought he was supposed to be looking after me, not the other way round. I wasn’t expecting emotional drunk Ed, but I can’t stand seeing him so upset. We all make mistakes, but we can’t let them define us.

  I take his face in my hands, holding his head so that his
gaze has to meet mine.

  It’s weird, Ed has always looked like an old man. He’s always dressed sensibly, he’s never done anything wild with his hair. In a way, he looks his age but, on the other hand, he looks no different to how he looked at uni. The only real differences in his appearance, that I imagine only comes once you have actual kids, are the dark circles under his eyes and the dad bod he’s sporting now.

  ‘You need to listen to me,’ I say, still holding his head. As drunk as he seems, I’m not even sure he’ll take this in, but it’s worth a shot if he really does still feel guilty. ‘We are all perfectly capable of making a mess of our own lives. Me, Tom, Fi, Zach … nothing you did changed anything. You’re an amazing, amazing man.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ he asks.

  ‘I do. I really do.’

  One minute he’s smiling at me, the next his lips are on mine.

  ‘Whoa, Ed.’

  I push him away by his chest. He stands up and stumbles a little on his drunk feet.

  ‘Shit,’ he says.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I assure him. ‘You’re drunk. We just got our wires crossed.’

  ‘Shit,’ he says again. ‘Why do I keep messing up? I need to put things right.’

  ‘Wait,’ I call after him as he makes a bolt for the door.

  Shit! Shit, shit, shit.

  I hop down off the table and run after him. I need to get to him – or at least to Fi – before he says something that will ruin everything.

  Chapter 28

  Then – New Year’s Eve 2008, 8.30 p.m.

  I undo my seatbelt and open the door.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I ask Zach.

  ‘Ed’s had a car accident,’ he replies. ‘I don’t want you to panic …’

  But I do panic. I’ve been panicking since he called and asked us to hurry over and help him. I jump out of the car and run to the scene of the accident, where I find Ed, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. Then I look in the middle of the road and see what he hit, just laying there in his headlights.

  ‘Oh, God,’ I say, rushing towards the dog in the middle of the road. ‘Is it dead?’

  ‘I don’t know – I think so,’ Ed cries.

  ‘Mate, what happened?’ Zach asks him. ‘What are you doing in Matt’s car?’

  I glance around. We’re on a relatively quiet road, but on the end of a residential street. I don’t know what order events happened in, but it looks like he hit the dog, and then crashed the corner of the car into the wall.

  ‘Are you hurt?’ I ask him.

  Ed hugs his knees, to try and steady the full body shakes he’s having. He must be in some kind of shock.

  ‘We need to call the police,’ Zach says.

  ‘No,’ Ed says quickly.

  ‘Mate, it’s an offence not to report hitting a dog.’

  ‘Oh, is it really?’ he asks, agitated.

  Something about him doesn’t seem quite right.

  ‘Ed, are you drunk?’ I ask him.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he cries. ‘I could be … I had a few drinks before I left. Everyone was worried we didn’t have enough food, so I said I’d go to the shop. I didn’t see any harm in taking Matt’s car … but I don’t know, I might be over the limit.’

  ‘Mate,’ Zach says, his disappointment apparent in his sigh.

  ‘I felt fine,’ he snaps back. ‘I … I thought I felt fine.’

  ‘Listen, someone will have heard you hit the wall,’ I say. ‘It’s a miracle no one has passed you already.’

  I’m trying my absolute hardest not to think about the poor dog, lying dead in the middle of the road. I can’t bear to think about it, it makes me feel sick. That’s someone’s pet. Someone’s baby, practically.

  ‘I … I made a mistake,’ Ed sobs. ‘I can’t believe I did it. Will I be in a lot of trouble? I’m not even insured to drive this car – I didn’t even ask for permission to borrow it. And I’m supposed to be learning how to help people, not kill things. I think I’m going to be sick.’

  ‘Look, calm down, mate,’ Zach says, but it’s too late. Ed is having a full-blown panic attack, panicking about what will happen if he is under the influence, panicking about what his parents will say, about whether or not this will have any effect on his future.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s still alive,’ I say, noticing the dog moving.

  I run over to it and crouch down.

  ‘Hello you,’ I say to the golden retriever. He doesn’t look very old but he isn’t a puppy. He doesn’t move – it’s like he knows he’s hurt – but he looks up at me with his big, brown eyes.

  ‘Ed, come here,’ I say.

  I look at the ID tag on his collar. His name is Monty.

  ‘Hello Monty,’ I say brightly. When I talk to him, even though he doesn’t move, he wags his tail, and it absolutely breaks my heart. ‘You’re going to be OK, cutie. I’m going to get you some help.’

  Ed doesn’t listen to me, he’s still panicking. He’s on his feet now, pacing back and forth in the car headlights.

  ‘Ed, get over here, now,’ I snap. ‘Look at him.’

  Ed reluctantly comes over and examines the dog.

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t know,’ Ed panics. ‘He needs a vet. Soon as possible.’

  ‘We need to call the police and we need to call the owners,’ I say. ‘Poor little thing, he needs help.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Zach says.

  ‘Give me your phone,’ I say. ‘I’ll key the owner’s number in.’

  ‘No, I mean, I’ll do everything,’ Zach says to me quietly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just get him out of here,’ he says.

  ‘Zach …’

  ‘He was driving, probably drunk, in a car he didn’t have permission to borrow, without insurance, and he’s hit a dog,’ he points out. ‘He’ll be in so much trouble, Luc.’

  ‘But what about you?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he says. ‘I’m in my car, I’m sober. Get him in Matt’s car, drive him home. You haven’t had a drink, right?’

  ‘I haven’t.’

  ‘Does your insurance cover other cars? I’ve seen you borrow Matt’s car before …’

  ‘Yes, but—’

  ‘Ed has a brighter future than any of us – especially me. He’s going to be a brilliant doctor one day … but maybe not, if this one mistake defines him. So hurry up.’

  ‘Zach, we just need to get this dog to a vet, and you need to stop being crazy.’

  ‘My mind is made up,’ he says confidently.

  I kiss him on the cheek as I hand him back his phone.

  ‘You’re going to be just fine, Monty,’ I reassure the dog as I blow him a kiss.

  I grab Ed, who is over by Matt’s car dry heaving.

  ‘Get in the car,’ I tell him, ushering him towards the passenger seat.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Get in the car,’ I say. ‘We’ve got to get you out of here.’

  ‘Why?’ he asks.

  ‘Because you have one of the best friends in the world,’ I tell him. ‘And he’s got your back, but you have to swear to me, you’ll never pull a stunt like this again.’

  Ed sinks into the passenger seat and sighs with relief.

  ‘I don’t know how I’ll ever repay him – or you,’ he says.

  ‘Just … don’t do it again. Please.’

  My voice finally wavers. I feel a lump form in my throat. I can’t get the image of poor, little Monty out of my head.

  This is definitely not the way I thought my New Year’s Eve was going to play out.

  Chapter 29

  Now

  If there’s one thing I know, it’s movies. I have watched a lot of movies in my 31 years.

  When I was three years old, I had chicken pox. Apparently, the only way my mum could get me to sit still and stop scratching, was to put on the movie Tom Thumb – the 1958 version. I’d watch it again and again, and then, as I grew older, my love of movies only grew stronger
.

  As a student, studying media from the age of 14 until I graduated at 21, I had to watch a lot of movies over the years.

  Finally, as a single adult with subscriptions to Sky, Amazon and Netflix, I fill my empty nights with movie after movie. So, I think it’s safe to say, I’ve seen more than your average person.

  The point I’m trying to make is that, I’ve seen a lot of fictional weddings take place. In movies, it always kicks off at weddings, but people don’t usually make a scene in real life, do they? God, I hope they don’t. Because in all of the weddings I’ve watched on screen, when things kick off, they kick off.

  The chances of this wedding playing out normally (well, as normally as it can with this guest list) will be greatly increased if I can find Ed and stop him from saying something stupid, or at least warn Fi about what he’s saying, so she can be ready for it. I suppose there’s a small chance that it might not be true. That Ed might just be drunk and rambling, or he might have made a mistake at the time. There’s no sense in everyone falling out and creating a bad atmosphere at Matt’s wedding because of a decade-old misunderstanding.

  I scan the bar for Ed, Fi – anyone really. I notice Pete chatting with a couple of men at the side of the room. When I catch his eye, he runs over to me.

  ‘Luca, are you OK? I’ve been looking everywhere for you since I saw you fall.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Just a cut. Have you seen any of my friends?

  ‘I haven’t, sorry,’ he replies. ‘Listen, you’ve done enough today. Isn’t it about time you relaxed?’

  ‘Oh, it’s impossible for me to relax at this wedding,’ I tell him, not that he could even begin to imagine the full extent of why.

  Pete places his hands on my shoulders and gives me a soothing smile.

  ‘We need to get you out of here,’ he says. ‘Why don’t we bail, go watch some trash TV in my room – we have fully stocked mini bars upstairs, I’ve heard a rumour that the smaller rooms don’t have them. We can relax, talk more about jobs and futures …’