ONE DAY(97)

‘There’s a trick, isn’t there?’ said Emma. ‘As I remember it, you put your left hand on the wall, and as long as you don’t let go, you get out eventually.’

‘Then let’s do it!’ He poured the last two glasses from the champagne bottle and placed the empty bottle on the grass. Emma removed her heels, placed her fingertips on the hedge and, a little gingerly at first, they began to walk along the dim corridor of leaves.

‘So you’ll come? To my wedding.’

‘Of course I will. I can’t promise not to disrupt the service, mind.’

‘It should have been me!’ They both smiled in the darkness and walked a little further.

‘As a matter of fact, I was going to ask you a favour.’

‘Please, please, don’t ask me to be the Best Man, Dex.’

‘It’s not that, it’s just I’ve been trying to write a speech for ages now, and I was wondering if you might give me a hand?’

‘No!’ laughed Emma.

‘Why not?’

‘I just think it’ll carry less emotional weight if it’s written by me. Just write what you honestly feel.’

‘Well I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. “I’d like to thank the caterers, and by the way I’m scared shitless.”’ He squinted into the darkness. ‘Are you sure this is working? It feels like we’re going further in.’

‘Trust me.’

‘Anyway, I don’t want you to write the whole thing, just give it a polish . . .’

‘Sorry, you’re on your own there.’ They came to a halt at a three-way junction.

‘We’ve definitely been here before.’

‘Just trust me. We keep going.’

They walked on in silence. Nearby the band had segued into Prince’s ‘1999’, to cheers from the guests. ‘When I first heard this song,’ said Emma, ‘I thought it was science-fiction. 1999. Hover cars and food in pill form and holidays on the moon. Now it’s here and I’m still driving a Fiat bloody Panda. Nothing’s changed.’

‘’Cept I’m a family man now.’

‘A family man. Good God, aren’t you scared?’

‘Sometimes. But then you look at some of the idiots who manage to raise kids. I keep telling myself, if Miffy Buchanan can do it, how hard can it be?’

‘You can’t take babies to cocktail bars, you know. They get funny about that kind of thing.’

‘S’okay. I’m going to learn to love staying in.’

‘But you’re happy?’

‘Yeah? I think I am. Are you?’

‘Happier. Happyish.’

‘Happyish. Well, happyish isn’t so bad.’

‘It’s the most we can hope for.’ The fingertips of her left hand passed across the surface of a statute that seemed familiar, and now Emma knew exactly where they were. Turning right, and then left would bring them out into the rose garden again, back into the party, back to his fiancée and their friends, and there would be no more time to talk. She suddenly felt a startling sadness, so stopped for a moment, turned and took both of Dexter’s hands in her own.

‘Can I say something? Before we go back to the party?’

‘Go on.’

‘I’m a little drunk.’

‘Me too. That’s okay.’

‘Just . . . I missed you, you know.’

‘I missed you too.’

‘But so, so much, Dexter. There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about, and you weren’t there—’

‘Same here.’

‘And I feel a little guilty, sort of running away like that.’

‘Did you? I didn’t blame you. There were times when I was being a little . . . obnoxious.’

‘More than a little, you were bloody awful—’

‘I know—’

‘Selfish, and stuck-up and boring actually—’

‘Yes, you’ve made that point—’

‘But even so. I should have stuck it out a bit, what with your mum and everything—’

‘That’s no excuse though.’

‘Well, no, but it was bound to give you a knock.’

‘I’ve still got that letter you wrote. It’s a very beautiful letter, I appreciated it.’

‘But still, I should have tried harder to get in touch. You’re meant to stick by your friends aren’t you? Take the blow.’

‘I don’t blame you—’

‘But even so.’ To her embarrassment, she found that there were tears in her eyes.

‘Hey, hey, what’s up, Em?’

‘I’m sorry, drunk too much is all . . .’

‘Come here.’ He put his arms around her, his face against the bare skin of her neck, smelling shampoo and damp silk, and she breathed into his neck, his aftershave and sweat and alcohol, the smell of his suit, and they stood like this for a while until she caught her breath and spoke.

‘I tell you what it is. It’s . . . when I didn’t see you, I thought about you every day, I mean every day in some way or another—’

‘Same here—’

‘—even if it was just “I wish Dexter could see this” or “where’s Dexter now?” or “Christ, that Dexter, what an idiot”, you know what I mean, and seeing you today, well, I thought I’d got you back – my best friend. And now all this, the wedding, the baby – I’m so, so happy for you, Dex. But it feels like I’ve lost you again.’