go, everyone would be staring at my trainers.’
‘So he carried you across the garden and into the marquee.’
‘I danced barefoot.’
Another silence.
‘You might not know this,’ Joe begins again, ‘youwere in Florence at the time, but my father came to Clifton. It was my birthday and he was determined to take us all out to the smartest restaurant in town.’
‘Wish I’d been there.’
‘No. No, you don’t. We’d have felt much more comfortable in the pub. Jamie called my father by his first name, which went down like a lead balloon. When Dad raised his glass and said how much he looked forward to my success in the surgical field, do you know what Olly said?’
I shake my head.
‘Mr Lawson, isn’t it up to Joe what he specializes in? He might not want to slice people up for a living.’
I laugh, proud of him. ‘A lot of us tiptoe round one another,’ I say, thinking about Mum and Dad hiding the photograph and my wedding dress, ‘but Olly always said exactly what was on his mind. He had no fear like that.’
Joe pushes his plate aside, pours us both another glass of water. ‘The only time I saw him scared was when you left.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He wanted you to go to Florence, he knew it was something you had to do, but the idea of you meeting some tall, dark Italian opera singer and forgetting all about him – that terrified him.’
I nod, building myself up to the question. ‘Why did you disappear, Joe? Leave Bristol without saying a word?’
‘At last,’ says Olly’s voice.
‘My mother died.’
‘Oh. I’m so sorry.’
‘She had cancer of the pancreas. They found it much too late. Even with the best medical care she had no chance.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us? Especially Olly?’
‘You were both in Florence. You’d just got back together.’
I nod. Olly had flown out – a last-minute surprise – during the Easter break. I hadn’t seen him for over six months, and during this time we’d both been seeing other people. I was going out with Luca, a chef. He was handsome, but he didn’t make me laugh, not like Olly. I don’t think it would have worked since we didn’t have enough in common, but it was fun at the time. When I met Olly at the Duomo all my old feelings for him flooded back. It was clear we both still loved one another. He stayed with me for three weeks, before returning to Bristol for the summer term and his finals. Joe had vanished.
Joe clears his throat. ‘I didn’t want to rain on your parade and—’
‘He was your best friend. He would have supported you. So would I.’
‘Really? I seem to remember you saying you hated me, that you never wanted to see me again.’
I twist one corner of the napkin, guilt creeping into my veins.
‘I helped Dad with the funeral, but after that I went off the rails. I did many things I’m not proud of. The one and only thing I knew was I didn’t want to study medicine any more. I was so angry with Dad; I blamed him for Mum’s death. Vice-President of this, chairman of that – but he couldn’t even help his wife, my mum. Part of the reason I wanted to leave Bristol was to hurt him. Throw my education back in his face with all the hopes he’d had for me, because they were his dreams, not mine …’
‘But why didn’t you talk to Olly? Why did you ignore his messages?’
‘I wasn’t a good friend.’ He looks at me directly. ‘You know that more than anyone. When he called to tell me you were back together, I wanted to be pleased, I did … but … I never stopped caring about him, or you …’ He trails off, ‘but I couldn’t find it in me to be happy. I was too messed up, too focused on myself. Olly deserved better. He didn’t need me. He had you, hismusic. He had so many friends,’ he says, trying to justify it.
‘He missed you. I can’t believe we didn’t know your mother had died, that you went through it alone.’
‘I took off, went to Australia to stay with my uncle,’ Joe
‘So he carried you across the garden and into the marquee.’
‘I danced barefoot.’
Another silence.
‘You might not know this,’ Joe begins again, ‘youwere in Florence at the time, but my father came to Clifton. It was my birthday and he was determined to take us all out to the smartest restaurant in town.’
‘Wish I’d been there.’
‘No. No, you don’t. We’d have felt much more comfortable in the pub. Jamie called my father by his first name, which went down like a lead balloon. When Dad raised his glass and said how much he looked forward to my success in the surgical field, do you know what Olly said?’
I shake my head.
‘Mr Lawson, isn’t it up to Joe what he specializes in? He might not want to slice people up for a living.’
I laugh, proud of him. ‘A lot of us tiptoe round one another,’ I say, thinking about Mum and Dad hiding the photograph and my wedding dress, ‘but Olly always said exactly what was on his mind. He had no fear like that.’
Joe pushes his plate aside, pours us both another glass of water. ‘The only time I saw him scared was when you left.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He wanted you to go to Florence, he knew it was something you had to do, but the idea of you meeting some tall, dark Italian opera singer and forgetting all about him – that terrified him.’
I nod, building myself up to the question. ‘Why did you disappear, Joe? Leave Bristol without saying a word?’
‘At last,’ says Olly’s voice.
‘My mother died.’
‘Oh. I’m so sorry.’
‘She had cancer of the pancreas. They found it much too late. Even with the best medical care she had no chance.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us? Especially Olly?’
‘You were both in Florence. You’d just got back together.’
I nod. Olly had flown out – a last-minute surprise – during the Easter break. I hadn’t seen him for over six months, and during this time we’d both been seeing other people. I was going out with Luca, a chef. He was handsome, but he didn’t make me laugh, not like Olly. I don’t think it would have worked since we didn’t have enough in common, but it was fun at the time. When I met Olly at the Duomo all my old feelings for him flooded back. It was clear we both still loved one another. He stayed with me for three weeks, before returning to Bristol for the summer term and his finals. Joe had vanished.
Joe clears his throat. ‘I didn’t want to rain on your parade and—’
‘He was your best friend. He would have supported you. So would I.’
‘Really? I seem to remember you saying you hated me, that you never wanted to see me again.’
I twist one corner of the napkin, guilt creeping into my veins.
‘I helped Dad with the funeral, but after that I went off the rails. I did many things I’m not proud of. The one and only thing I knew was I didn’t want to study medicine any more. I was so angry with Dad; I blamed him for Mum’s death. Vice-President of this, chairman of that – but he couldn’t even help his wife, my mum. Part of the reason I wanted to leave Bristol was to hurt him. Throw my education back in his face with all the hopes he’d had for me, because they were his dreams, not mine …’
‘But why didn’t you talk to Olly? Why did you ignore his messages?’
‘I wasn’t a good friend.’ He looks at me directly. ‘You know that more than anyone. When he called to tell me you were back together, I wanted to be pleased, I did … but … I never stopped caring about him, or you …’ He trails off, ‘but I couldn’t find it in me to be happy. I was too messed up, too focused on myself. Olly deserved better. He didn’t need me. He had you, hismusic. He had so many friends,’ he says, trying to justify it.
‘He missed you. I can’t believe we didn’t know your mother had died, that you went through it alone.’
‘I took off, went to Australia to stay with my uncle,’ Joe