A couple walking past hand in hand stopped to listen and I flashed them a smile. Beside me, I felt Emma shift. With every note I played I felt a something fill my chest, a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. And as I reached the final note and brought the bow to a stop, I held my breath for a few seconds, letting the last notes slip away on the breeze. The couple clapped, then turned and walked away, deep in conversation.
‘I had no idea you were so good,’ Emma said beside me, and for the first time since I’d taken the violin out of its case I met her gaze. Her eyes twinkled and a smile played on her lips.
I lowered the violin onto my lap. ‘I used to be. I’m pretty rusty now.’
‘It sounded pretty incredible to me.’ I jumped as she lay her hand on my arm, a warmth spreading through me. Would I ever get used to the jolt that passed between us every time we touched? Would it make it impossible for us to ever be together in a more intimate way or…
I felt a heat rise in my cheeks. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘It felt pretty good to play. Especially here.’
She nodded but didn’t ask any questions for which I was grateful. We sat quietly for a moment, watching our own views. I imagined stepping across the invisible line that ran between us, separating us. If there was a way for us to do it, what would it be like in her world? How much could things really have changed in twenty years? Would I feel like an alien, a relic? Emma had called me that one day, before we realised what was happening between us. A relic.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Emma’s voice interrupted my thoughts and I turned to look at her.
‘I was just wondering what it’s like where you are.’
She wrapped her arms round herself and shivered. ‘It’s bloody cold.’
‘It looks it. It’s a lovely day here.’
‘I want to be there with you.’
‘I want you to be too.’
A silence fell. Then: ‘I wonder what I’m doing today?’
I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
She blinked slowly at me, then shrugged. ‘I was seventeen in 1999. I wonder what I was doing right now.’
A stone lodged in my belly. Of course I’d realised how young she’d be right now, but I hadn’t really thought about it in any kind of detail. I moved away and rubbed my arm where her hand had been.
‘What’s wrong?’ she said.
I shook my head. ‘I just… it feels wrong. You’re achild.’
‘But I’m not.’ She stood up suddenly and did a twirl. ‘Look. I’m thirty-seven years old and a proper grown-up.’ She smiled at me, her lips wide, and I had a sudden urge to kiss her. She sat down and leaned towards me without touching me. ‘It’s all right, Nick. Even if we never find a way to be together, whatever this is between us right now, it’s all right.’
‘I know,’ I said. And I did, really. And yet I couldn’t completely shake the thought of her seventeen-year-old self being here, in my present day.
‘Why don’t you tell me about your music.’ She nodded at the violin that still rested on my lap.
‘There’s not much to tell. I’ve been playing the violin since I was six years old because my mother played and she wanted me to. My father didn’t care because nothing I ever did was good enough anyway, and he thought I should be playing something more manly like drums or guitar.’ I shrugged, remembering the first time he’d come to hear me play. I’d been terrified, standing at the front of the school assembly, my violin trembling in my arm until I thought I might drop it. When I played I felt so happy, but the moment I finished and sought out my parents my heart dropped. Because while my mother was clapping andcheering with pride, my father just sat there, arms folded, staring at me, a smirk on his face. I pushed the memory away. ‘What about you? Do you play any instruments?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I always wish I had but I was more into drama than music. I was a bit of a show-off.’ She smiled. ‘I was in plays at school, but I’ll never forget my first proper part, in the open-air theatre across the other side of this park. I played Cecily Cardew inThe Importance of Being Earnest.’
‘Did you? Wow! When was that?’
She frowned, the crinkles in her forehead making her look unbearably cute. Suddenly, she gasped. ‘Gosh, I think it was then – I mean now!’ She shook her head. ‘I mean, I think it was 1999! Yes, it was, because I was the youngest member of the cast and very young for the part, and it was in the papers at the time and Mum cut it out and stuck it to the fridge.’ She stopped, breathless, and looked up at me. ‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘I…’ I started. ‘Sorry. I was just—it seems weird to me, that you have a memory from childhood, but for me it hasn’t even happened yet.’
‘Yeah. It is weird isn’t it.’
I didn’t want to think about it too much. I wasn’t sure I wanted that knowledge. Even knowing about something small that happens just a short time in my future felt wrong.
‘Actually I have something to tell you,’ I said, leaning down and placing my violin back in its case.
‘Have you? What?’
