We start to walk along the river in the vague direction of home. The surface of the water is pockmarked with falling rain. Bedford's embankment is deserted, the only sound the downpour, and the occasional swish of car tyres in the wet.
‘What the fuck was that? Thought we were past having punch-ups in clubs, mate.’
I think this might be the first time in the history of our friendship that Giles has been genuinely pissed off with me.
‘I’m sorry.’
At first, he just nods with a tight jaw, before appearing to relent. ‘All right. No worries. I know you’ve been going through it lately.’
I stop walking. The least he deserves, after risking getting punched on my behalf, is a proper explanation. ‘Actually, I have to tell you something.’
He frowns, turns to face me. ‘Tell me what?’
He staggers to the nearest bench and virtually collapses on top of it, saying he needs a moment to digest what I’ve told him.
This is fair. So I just sit down next to him and wait.
Rain is hurtling from the sky now, in great, heaving pellets. The air smells earthy, weighted with water.
‘What the hell were you thinking?’ Giles says eventually.
‘I genuinely thought I was going to die.’
‘Where did you get it?’
My skin prickles. I can’t betray Wilf. Not after everything he did for me. ‘No one you know,’ I mumble.
‘And what does Rach think?’
I picture Rachel, the detachment evident in her demeanour ever since our birthday. She’s drifted through the hours, not saying much, even seeming to walk out of rooms whenever I walk into them. It has begun to feel as though she wants to be wherever I am not.
I rest my forehead on my hands. ‘I’ve messed everything up, Giles. I think... I might have broken it.’
‘Jesus,’ he murmurs, then we both sit for a few moments in silence, getting hammered by the rain. Giles must really beshocked, because he’s usually the first to bleat about needing an umbrella if it even threatens to drizzle.
‘Rach probably just needs time,’ he says, after a while. ‘She’s a reasonable person. She’ll come round.’
‘I don’t know. Our future looks so different now. All the plans we made.’
He looks across at me. ‘Do you regret it?’
How is it possible not to know the answer to that most basic of questions? And yet, I find myself struggling. ‘I’m grateful to be alive... But this... it’s fucking killing me.’
‘Ironically enough,’ mumbles Giles, at which point his phone begins to buzz. He’s a project manager for a construction company, and has started keeping a portable Nokia clipped to his belt at all times, in case people in hard hats need to reach him, or a high-rise development explodes somewhere.
Glancing at the screen, he asks me if Lola knows anything. I’m guessing the message is from her, wondering where the hell he is.
I shake my head. ‘Just Poll and Ingrid.’
He returns the phone to his belt. ‘And you really reckon it’s worked?’
I’m sure the true answer is yes, if you take into account Wilf and his unassailable brain. But I tell him it’ll be a while before I’m sure.
‘I guess the kids thing’s on hold now, then?’ He rubs his jaw. ‘That’d be kind of weird. Them growing old, and you staying like this.’
I let out a long breath. ‘Please just tell me what to do, Giles.’
He doesn’t answer straight away. In fact, it is an unnervingly long time before he says, ‘The only thing you can. Try your best to make it up to Rach, and all the rest... will be what it is.’
