‘Are you kidding?’ He must be, surely?
But he shook his head. ‘No. I—’ He looked down at his feet, then seemed as though he was about to say something else, but changed his mind. ‘Never mind.’
I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know what to say. How could he possibly have forgotten who I was when what we had between us had been so passionate, so all-consuming? I’d spent the last eighteen years trying to squeeze him out of my mind, to let myself live and be happy with someone else. God, I’d almost ruined my marriage for him more than once. And he was pretending he didn’t know me?
Fury rose in me like a fire and I felt my body start to shake uncontrollably.
‘Howdareyou,’ I hissed, my hands clenched by my sides. ‘Howdareyou pretend you don’t know me?’
He took a step back and I realised how close I was standing to him. So close I could almost feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
‘I’m sorry.’ He shoved his guitar in its case and slammed the lid shut, folded up his stool and tucked it under his arm, then turned and almost ran away from me, away from the high street. I watched his retreating back in horror for a few moments, paralysed. Then my mind came back to itself and I set off after him, half-walking, half-running, yelling his name. In that moment I didn’t care who saw me, or how mad I looked. All I could think about was reaching him and demanding to know what the hell he thought he was playing at.
He glanced behind as I closed the gap between us, and then before he could do anything about it, I was standing in front of him, blocking his path. He tried to go round me, but I blocked him again and he finally gave up, his shoulders slumping, and stopped. He was staring at a spot just above my shoulder, and I rose up on my toes, trying to get him to look me in the eye.
‘Adam.’
Finally, he did look at me. It was dark now and I couldn’t make out the vivid blue of his eyes, but there was no mistaking the sadness in them. The Adam I knew, the sparky, feisty, rebellious Adam, seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind a strange kind of melancholy in his place. I couldn’t read him, and so I waited.
At last, he spoke.
5
NOW
Bush: ‘The Chemicals Between Us’
‘I was dreading this happening.’ Adam’s voice was low so I had to lean towards him to hear. After all these years his sudden proximity was making me feeling faint, and I reached out for the wall to steady myself.
‘Dreading seeing me?’ My heart felt like stone, but he shook his head.
‘No, I don’t mean that.’ He let out a long breath and shuffled his feet. ‘I was dreading meeting someone who clearly meant something to me.’
I frowned, confused.
‘What do you mean,clearly meant something to me?You’re speaking as though you don’t remember who I am.’But how could he possibly have forgotten?
‘I don’t.’ I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, or to break into a smile, or laugh and tell me he was only joking. But from the look in his eyes, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.
‘What – what do you mean?’
His eyes searched mine, and I studied the depths of his, looking for some clue as to what was going on. But then, instead of speaking, he picked up his guitar again and started striding off.
‘Come on, come with me,’ he called over his shoulder, and before I could consider what I was doing, I was scurrying to catch him up.
We set off along the high street, the shimmer from the Christmas window displays lighting our way. I stared down at the pavement as we walked. What was I doing, following him like this? What if Greg saw us? Or Sam, or Rose? But I couldn’t think about that right now. The urge to find out what Adam had to say engulfed everything else.
We marched out of town towards the quieter residential streets on the outskirts, away from my house. The traffic was thinner here, and the sky had turned from grey to a deep navy, a stripe of orange drawn across the rooftops. I stopped, and Adam came to a halt a couple of footsteps ahead. ‘Where are we going?’ I demanded.
‘To my house.’
‘Your house? Where—’ I stopped dead, mortified. ‘You don’t mean your parents’ house do you?’
‘Yes. Why?’
What could I tell him? I might not have known what was going on here, but I did know that the last people I wanted to see right now were Adam’s parents. They’d hated me eighteen years ago, believing that I wasn’t good enough for their precious son, that it was all my fault he’d gone off the rails rather than the fact they couldn’t have cared less about him that had made him rebel. I’d spent the last two decades trying to avoid seeing them at all – easy when they didn’t deign to come into town with the common folk – so I couldn’t imagine they’d exactly be thrilled to see me now.
‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘Can we go somewhere else?’
