‘New Year,’ he replies. ‘I’ve got some stuff on. It’s quite nice being home, though, I must admit. How’s Kate? She well?’
‘Mmm-hmm,’ I reply, lying through my teeth. ‘All good here. . . Actually, I’m about to visit Carly. You remember Carly?’
He pauses, then laughs. ‘Oh my god, Clarinet Carly? How did that come about?’
‘Bumped into her on Christmas Eve,’ I explain. ‘She’s visiting her sister.’
‘Oh aye? ‘Graham replies. ‘Just you be careful there. We allknow how she lusted after your tall arse at uni. Don’t let that Christmas sherry go to your head.’
‘What?’ I exclaim, genuinely confused by his statement. ‘That’s nonsense.’
‘I’m telling you,’ he continues. ‘You were too busy with Kate to notice, but you must have been the only one who didn’t.’
‘Whatever,’ I reply, feeling awkward. ‘I need to go. I’m sitting in a terrible car in a very nice neighbourhood and I’m certain someone’s called the police by now.’
‘No problem,’ he replies. ‘Listen, I’ll give you a bell at New Year. Give my love to Kate, the temptress and your arresting officer.’
‘Will do. Speak soon, mate.’
Carly’s already at the door as I walk up the path, her arms outstretched.
‘I’m so glad you made it!’ she exclaims, hugging me. ‘I was worried you wouldn’t have time.’
‘Kate’s visiting her dad,’ I say, following her in. ‘And I’d much rather be here, believe me.’
I follow her inside, where she asks me to take my shoes off. ‘Bethan’s a bit weird about her carpets,’ she tells me. ‘She likes them more than her husband.’
Bethan and her husband have gone to visit her in-laws for the day, leaving Carly and me to catch up. Her house is pretty sweet, I won’t lie, but it’s like a show home. Nothing out of place and everything in various shades of stainable. I fear even the piling on my socks might leave an unwelcome trace.
‘Tea or coffee?’ Carly asks, fishing about in the cupboard for cups. ‘They have one of those fancy coffee machines you stick the pods in.’
‘Sounds good,’ I reply, wondering how Carly’s managed to look exactly the same since uni, while I’m beginning to sprout grey hairs in every inconvenient place.
We sit at the kitchen table with a plate of biscuits and catch up,Carly filling me in on what it’s like to tour with a professional orchestra, while I divulge what life is like as a high-school teacher.
‘You know, I knew you’d end up doing something like that,’ she tells me, offering me another biscotti. ‘You were always so bloody patient and calm while the rest of us were tearing our hair out. It must be a right laugh working with teenagers.’
‘You did just hear my story about the voice break, yeah?’
She laughs. ‘Yeah, I’m sure they’re little bastards at times, but still. You’re making a difference. My music teacher, Mrs Norris, changed my life. One day someone will say that about you.’
I smile. ‘Nice thought, but. . . god. . . I dunno. I look at you and I see everything that I didn’t do. Does that make sense?’
‘Since when did you want to play in an orchestra?’ she asks. ‘You were never into that side of things. Oh, I saw Ruth inHamiltonat the Victoria Palace.’
‘God, now I feel worse!’ I say. ‘Can I bang my head against this nice table if I use a coaster?’
‘What?’
‘Ugh, it’s nothing. Just that you– well, all of you, ended up doing something quite extraordinary. Even Graham is on the telly now. It makes me feel like if you looked up “ordinary” in the dictionary, there would just be a picture of me marking homework.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she replies, kicking me under the table. ‘More coffee?’
‘Sure,’ I reply. ‘I have time for one more.’
‘Whatever happened to that guy you were dating at uni?’ I ask, watching her open and close cupboards. ‘What was his name? Colin?’
‘Keiran,’ she replies. ‘We split up a month after graduation. He just wasn’t for me.’
