‘You want to hang about for a while, so I can keep an eye on you?’
Heather’s eyebrows disappeared up into her hairline and her mouth rounded into a scandalised ‘O’. When Josh suggested they leave me, I didn’t try and stop them; I was happy where I was. There was a quick agreement that it would be easier if I just met them back at the hostel instead of arranging a meeting point. Before leaving, Heather snapped off a quick Polaroid.
I scowled at her. ‘What do you want to do that for?’
‘For posterity’s sake. Maybe prove to people you got into a scrap.’ She grinned, disappearing into the throng of people.
Josh held a steadying hand on her shoulder. I looked back at William, chin buried in the neck of his jacket and wild hair everywhere. I pulled my beanie off, forcing it into an already bulging pocket.
‘I sure you’ll be fine, but just be mindful of it, will you?’ he said, eyes glued to the crowd wandering past. ‘If you have a lot of swelling—’
‘Or trouble breathing, go to the A&E?’ I flashed a stubborn smile. ‘I will.’
‘You know, it’s you who’s supposed to be listening to me,’ he teased. ‘And it’s definitely not broken if you’re laughing at me.’
‘Yeah, well. Call me a bitter med school reject.’ My nose had settled into a dull throb, the kind I knew would still be around in the morning. But at least the bleeding had stopped.
‘Reject? No. They let me in, they should have definitely let you in.’
‘You’re a doctor?’
‘Yup, a junior doctor,’ he said. ‘And in a couple of years, I’ll be a GP.’
‘What an effort.’ I sighed. ‘You love it?’
‘Adore it. It’s the best job.’ He smiled. ‘I mean, it’s got its moments but…’
I grinned. My nose ached. ‘Yeah, I get it.’
My plan, thwarted as it might have been, was to train as a doctor, because how good is it to do things that feel good for other people? Even volunteering, seeing people off into an ambulance, at least I’d been able to help, or make them more comfortable for a few moments in time. Recently, I’d had a call up from the local hospital, allowing me to volunteer in the maternity ward. There was nothing better than my few hours a week spent in there. But I didn’t need to explain this to William, he understood.
Instead, we sat quietly beside each other and watched the crowd shift and change. They moved up and back along the street, A bright orange light filtered down the street, highlighting the faces of young and old alike.
Whether we’d been joined by anyone else in the first aid station was beyond my comprehension. There’d been no call to attention, and no one had approached for anything more than paracetamol and water. We huddled in our jackets, watching, waiting.
Fireworks exploded above our heads with a loud crack, ripping through the night sky, and sending rainbow-coloured sparks back down to earth. Conversations stopped mid-sentence as crowds gasped as marvelled. It didn’t matter how old you were, fireworks were still a thing of wonder. I looked up in time for another thunk, whistle, crack, sparkle, fizzle.
When the last one sizzled into memory, I stood and brushed myself off again. William looked up at me, his face expressionless.
‘William.’ I held my hand out to him. ‘Thank you for your help tonight.’
‘Pleasure’s all mine.’
For a moment, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, even though I’d been in this same situation myself time and time again. So, I went with what was … normal and totally not creepy.
‘Well, goodnight.’
His smile reached his piercing blue eyes. ‘Goodnight, Emmy.’
With that, I walked away. People were moving back down the hill towards the station, the crowd noticeably thinner and torches snuffed one by one. A haze of grey smoke had settled above the street. I chanced a glimpse back at the first aid station, not knowing what to expect. There he was, hair aflame and smile wide, chatting excitedly and handing out bottles of water.
Smiling to myself despite the throbbing pain in my nose, I turned and walked away.
Chapter 2
I’d been a little relieved when I finally clapped eyes on the bouncing kangaroo held aloft above the Ceilidh crowd. That stuffed toy was the signpost of our tour guide, for meeting, for lunch, and for relative safety as we travelled. Given most our group were Australian, it seemed fitting. There’d been a moment of panic earlier when I’d traipsed past a Ferris wheel and between rainbow-coloured show rides and couldn’t see it. My brain began running through a thousand different Emmy Has Got Herself Lost Overseas on New Year’s Eve scenarios. My heart slowed to a steady rhythm when I saw Josh’s lanky arm waving over everyone’s head. The consulate would not be dealing with me on this trip.
‘Emmy!’ Heather appeared from the throng, arms outstretched for a hug. I made sure to keep my still sore nose clear of any squashing.
‘Hey, you,’ I said. ‘What’d you get up to today?’
I’d woken to a note pinned on the underside of the bunk above me. Today was a free day, a keep yourself entertained type day, and my friends had disappeared early, along with everyone else. After my efforts last night, I was happy to enjoy the solitary sleep in, especially if I got the bathroom to myself without fighting anyone. Checking that I was mostly bruise-free, if a little sore still, I spent the day alone – something refreshing after weeks cooped up in the constant presence of other travellers.
Heather rattled off her day’s itinerary, the old monuments, museums, and back alley adventures. Josh, the avid walker he was, had trekked them up Arthur’s Seat before taking her out for a haggis lunch afterwards.
A traditional Scottish band soared to life on the stage ahead.
I’d spent my day meandering around the city centre, taking the stroll from our hostel into the city, and stopping at a chocolate shop for a rich hot chocolate topped with chocolate whipped cream. It was the perfect refresher as I made my way through cobblestone streets and uber green parks.
Cheap souvenirs were about all I could afford, and that was fine, because they were a sight to behold. Kilted sheep, ashtrays, and miles of thistle themed items kept even the most astute traveller happy judging by the sheer swarm of people in each of the stores dotted along the Royal Mile. My sister was getting a thistle stamped coffee cup, just because she could be a bit prickly when she wanted to.
‘What about your friend from last night?’ Heather asked.
I shot her a surprised look. ‘My who?’
‘That guy from last night. The first aider,’ she said. ‘Looked like you were getting along alright when we saw you.’
‘William?’ I smiled. The truth was, my heart skipped each time he’d worked his way into my thoughts, which had been often enough that I’d thought I’d seen him strolling over Waverley Bridge earlier in the afternoon. It wasn’t him but, for a brief second, I was prepared to give chase. ‘He was lovely, wasn’t he?’
‘Oh.’ She smiled knowingly, looking to Josh. His face mirrored hers in the sweet mockery of friendship. ‘His name is William. Josh, Joshua, he has a name.’
‘Be quiet. He was lovely, and he helped me when I needed it. I’m sure he was just doing his job.’ Though, even as I said those words, a part of me hoped that wasn’t solely the case.
Underneath Edinburgh Castle, bathed in soft purple light, traditional Scottish music rang out across the parish gardens. Our guide attempted shouting instructions over the top of it all, but he was easily drowned out. It needn’t have mattered; friends and strangers broke off into small groups as the dancing began in earnest.
Half the fun lay in trying to work it all out. Arms were linked, hands were held and, through a bit of spinning and something that looked a little like a jig, we figured the rest out through tears of laughter, and a whole lot of trial and error. Finding an ounce confidence, things got quicker, and the night fast became a kaleidoscope of beats and colour.
And red hair.
I came to a breat
hless, unfit stop, lungs burning in protest at the sudden burst of exercise, joyous as it might have been. Leaning against an artificially green tree, William nursed a drink. Hi-vis had been swapped in favour of a warmer woollen pullover, a long coat, dark jeans and scarf, but it was definitely him. While the girl in front of him spoke like he was the only person in her room, he looked about distractedly. A brief smile or nod was all he could afford her.
I wondered – would it be okay to say hello? After all, he was only doing his job. Maybe it would be a bit weird. Hang it, I thought, I could at least say thank you. Edging forward, I half-expected him to have no recollection whatsoever. But, when his gaze landed on me and he smiled, my heart squeezed and the Rolodex inside my mind came to a screaming halt at W. W for William. Willy. Will. Wedding? Stop.
‘Emmy!’ He straightened and pushed himself away from the trunk. Taking the few unsure steps towards me, he left his companion with a handshake and a smile.
I smiled. ‘William, hello.’
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How’s the … how’s the face?’
‘Face is good.’ I took a step closer, tipping my nose down so he could get a better look. ‘Not so bad at all.’
‘Good.’
‘I just wanted to say thank you for last night,’ I said, nervously placing my hands in, and then out of my pockets. ‘You know, for the help.’
‘You’re more than welcome.’
‘Anyway…’
His focus switched to the group behind me, and then back again. ‘You’re out of breath.’
‘Dancing.’ I threw a wave towards what was left of my tour group. ‘As it turns out, I’m not as fit as I thought I was.’
‘As it also turns out,’ he began, placing his bottled water on the ground by his feet, ‘I am no Dashing White Sergeant, so all I can offer you is White Guy at Wedding dancing.’
There was that W word again. It felt like a trail of ants were dancing up my arm.
‘Dashing what? White guy at wedding?’ I laughed, slightly confused, then winced.
‘Here.’ William closed the last gap between us, hand held high in readiness. ‘Let me show you.’
His touch burned into my skin as he slipped gentle fingers between mine and pulled me closer, flush against his body and exposed to his warmth. I closed my eyes and let my body do the rest, my hand on his shoulder, his across my back, my cheek dipped against his and just … felt. Stubbly skin against mine, soft breath against my cheek, and the smell of wool wash that lingered on clothing. We swayed slowly, removed from the pounding background beat, as if nothing and nobody else in the world mattered because there, in this moment, they didn’t.
‘You know, if this is White Guy at Wedding dancing, you hereby have a standing invite to any wedding I’m ever invited to.’
William shook with laughter. ‘You know what else happens at weddings?’
‘You shag bridesmaids?’ I said.
‘Can’t say I’ve had that dishonour, yet.’
‘No?’ I asked. ‘What is it, then?’
‘Alcohol.’ He moved away only slightly. Cold air rushed to fill the space. ‘Want to get out of here before the fireworks start, grab a drink?
I glanced back at my friends, who were lost in the revelry of their own night. I held a finger up between us. ‘Let me just go tell some people I’m leaving.’
‘I’ll wait here.’ He smiled softly.
I pointed to the ground, determined not to lose him again. ‘Right here.’
William jumped to his left. ‘Not here?’
‘Right here.’ I held his shoulders as we laughed.
‘Alright.’ His eyes widened. ‘I’m waiting. Scurry.’
Heather spun like a slow-motion film scene. In the time since I’d seen her last, which was not long at all, she’d had her hair sprayed pink, green, and blue; a perfect representation of her personality. She swung around to a new dance partner, Josh keeping an eagle eye on her, returning to her side at the earliest possible opportunity. Not for the first time, I wondered if there was something more going on. If that were true, it would make me the happiest third wheel on earth.
‘Hey.’ I tapped her shoulder.
‘Oh!’ She peered about excitedly. ‘Emmy! Where have you been?’
‘Just over there.’ I pointed. ‘I ran into William. We’ve been talking.’
‘Who?’
‘William, the first aid guy from last night.’
‘He’s here? You know what this is, Emmy? Kismet.’ She stopped and drew back with a look of smug satisfaction. ‘Oh, sweetie, your face.’
I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.
‘You like him.’
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t a lie, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. After all, we were disappearing in a day or two, no need to get out the calligraphy pens yet.
‘We’re only going for a drink, not picking rings. I just want to let you know in case you came looking for me.’
Like a mother looking for a child, her arm flew out into open space, grappling for Josh. She caught him mid-twirl and dragged him into the discussion. He bounced across and came to a stop with his hand on Heather’s shoulder again.
‘Hey.’ His chest heaved. ‘What’s up?’
‘Emmy’s going to get drinks with William,’ Heather explained, before turning her attention back to me. ‘Do you need money? I’ve got some money. What about condoms. Josh, have you got any spare?’
‘Spare? What? No, I don’t really carry them just for fun.’ He shook his hands about in front of him while Heather performed a pat-down.
His wallet was held aloft like contraband. ‘But you’ve got money. And a condom, you liar.’
‘Oh, no, no.’ I waved my hands. ‘No, I don’t need money, it’s fine. And I certainly don’t need Josh’s contraceptives.’
He tutted. ‘It’s not like it’s been used, Em.’
‘Yes, money.’ Heather dug about in the wallet, scolding Josh for earlier saying he was broke. ‘In case you need to get home or call one of us.’
‘No, really, it’s okay.’
‘Emmy.’ She shoved a few small notes in my hand. ‘Take it.’
I accepted her offer with a reluctant sigh. ‘Alright, okay. Are you sure, Josh?’
‘Yeah, it’s fine.’ He shrugged. ‘Go for it.’
‘Call or message every half hour, or hour, or something.’ Her eyes were wide, the space between her brows wrinkled. ‘Please? Just let me know you’re alright.’
I nodded. ‘I will, thank you. I’ll see you both later. You guys call if you need me, too.’
‘Alright, Miss Medicine, what gives?’ William slid a glass across the table. Condensation rolled over itself, forming a ring on the small wooden table. He dropped into the chair opposite and clutched his hands in his lap.
After squeezing our way out of the Ceilidh, chins buried in necklines and hands deep in pockets, we’d strolled past Princes Street and its rainbow coloured carnival to a tiny laneway. Greeted by foggy leadlight windows and a swinging light, it looked like the best option for keeping warm. A spare table by the window was a bonus.
‘Flunked the interview.’
He winced. ‘Tough.’
‘Other pathways, right?’ I said, drawing back quickly from the drink, hands across my mouth. ‘What the … is that chilli?’
‘Cayenne pepper.’
‘In a drink?’
‘I’ll have you know it’s a cocktail named The Fighter.’
‘The what?’ I laughed. ‘I was not fighting.’
‘Eh, I don’t know, Emmy.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You might’ve been.’
‘I wasn’t,’ I stressed. ‘I was trying to get Josh out of the way.’
‘Yeah, you should’ve left him alone.’
I sighed. ‘I know that now.’
‘So, you love blood and gore, do you?’ William’s eyes widened. ‘You bloodthirsty woman, you.’
‘What is it with that question?’ I asked,
almost pleading. ‘Oh, you want to do medicine, Emmy, very noble. Must love guts and gore, huh, girlie?’
‘Yes, yes, you’re quite right,’ William played. ‘It’s not that I want to do something good in the world. It’s actually that I love nothing more than stuffing someone’s intestines back into them. Quite like black pudding, really.’
‘Or—’ I shucked my jacket off and held my hand up ‘—or, or, why don’t you just be a nurse, that’d be a nice job for a girl.’
William gasped. ‘They did not.’
‘That was my very un-PC grandma,’ I said. ‘Right before she told me I should just marry and have some children before I fill out too much.’
‘Grandma, get back to the home.’
‘Funny you should say that, she went into one this year.’
‘Oh, shit, talk about foot in mouth. I am so sorry.’ Even as he said it, he struggled to contain a wicked laugh.
‘No, it’s fine,’ I assured him. ‘She’s, like, four hundred and seventy-three. It was time. It was that or let her burn her house down with her still inside it. This is the lesser of two evils.’
‘Maybe you can go work in the nursing home. Make Nana a cup of tea.’
‘I did think about it,’ I said. ‘I might yet, but I have submitted to the nagging of my parents and enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts, so let’s see if I can segue into medicine that way.’
‘A degree earned in eight years instead of four is still a degree. Remember that,’ he said with pointed finger.
‘The disappointment from my parents was palpable when I told them I hadn’t made it.’ I leant forward into the table, chin in the palm of my hand. ‘How could you get this far, Emmy? How could you?’
‘We’re not angry.’ William took a large sip and frowned so hard I thought his eyebrows would slip off onto pouted lips. ‘We’re just disappointed.’
‘Oh my God, yes.’ I threw my head back. ‘Does that come in the parental starter pack? Like, here’s your new baby, and here’s the phrases you can use for life. Maximum impact, minimal responsibility.’
‘If it makes you feel better, my parents’ disappointment lay in the fact I skipped architecture in favour of medicine. “William, your father and grandfather have a long legacy in architecture. We were so hoping you would carry that into the next generation.”.’ William screwed his face up. ‘The extent of my architectural ambition lies in the bottom of a box of Lego. I can’t even draw a potato without fucking it up.’
An Impossible Thing Called Love Page 2
