Fractured(3)

‘And just remember, to me you’ll always be the freckly-faced girl with the gap in her front teeth, whose ears stuck out.’

‘I was ten years old then,’ I protested. ‘Thank God for orthodontistry. Do you really have to remember every damn thing about my geeky childhood?’

‘I can’t help myself,’ Jimmy replied oddly. And I would have pursued that strange comment if we hadn’t just then been joined by the others.

‘C’mon then,’ urged Matt, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly. ‘Let’s go before they give our table to someone else.’

We walked en masse through the large double doors, arms linked or thrown casually around a neighbouring shoulder, never realising that in the next half hour our lives were going to be irrevocably changed for ever.

We were led straight away to our table, which was situated at the very front of the restaurant beside a large plate-glass window, where we had an excellent view of the high street and the church perched high up on the hill nearby. As we wove between the other tables to reach our seats, I could see Cathy drawing several appreciative glances from the male diners and I was pretty certain that Matt too hadn’t passed among the women unnoticed. I tried to stifle that small worried voice that had been whispering in my ear for several months.

Matt was a very attractive guy; he naturally drew the attention of other women, it was only to be expected, and while part of me relished the fact that it was my side he was standing by, my hand that he held in his as we slalomed between the closely packed tables, there was an unspoken worry that sooner or later I would have to address: what would happen when he was faced with inevitable temptation when we were apart? Would we be one of the couples who survived the university separation, or were we destined to become victims to the curse of the long-distance relationship?

I was pleased this line of thinking was interrupted by the softly accented Italian waiter, indicating we had arrived at our reserved table. Tight for space in the crowded restaurant, they had pushed two tables together to accommodate our party, which resulted in rather a narrow gap by a concrete pillar which had to be squeezed past in order to reach the seat beside the window.

Wishing Sarah had got there first, she was much smaller than me, I nevertheless managed to manoeuvre through the gap without getting embarrassingly stuck. Matt slid into the chair beside me, as the others all found a place and sat down. Jimmy took the window seat directly opposite me, with Sarah claiming the chair on his right-hand side. I refused to look at the undignified scrabble of who was sitting by Cathy on the other side of Matt. I guessed pole position was opposite her anyway, with its excellent view down the front of her top. Surreptitiously, under cover of the tablecloth, I tugged down on the hem of my own T-shirt, lowering the neckline by an inch or two: then felt myself blushing like an idiot as I saw Jimmy’s quivering lips as he noticed what I’d done.

‘What’s so funny, Jimmy?’ Matt asked and suddenly, by some horrible coincidence, the whole table fell silent to hear his response. I knew my eyes were frantically telegraphing him not to say anything, and I needn’t have worried. Jimmy calmly picked up the menu and gave a casual shrug.

‘Nothing, just thinking of something my uncle said earlier, that’s all.’

While everyone else followed Jimmy’s lead and began to study their menus, I looked across and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’. The smile he gave me back was so full of warm affection and friendship that for some strange reason my stomach gave an erratic flip. Confused, I broke eye contact and pretended to be deeply interested in the merits of the lasagne versus the cannelloni.

Matt’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against him as we chose our meal and when I did look over to Jimmy a few minutes later, he was deep in conversation with Sarah, and although he caught my glance and gave me a small smile, my stomach remained exactly where it should have been.

It was impossible to ignore the nostalgia around the table, and the air of impending separation was almost as apparent as the tomato and garlic aromas wafting around us. While there were still a few weeks before I left for my place at Brighton, Trevor and Phil were both going to leave after the weekend, and Sarah only a few days later. Somehow I couldn’t really imagine the condensed remains of our group; Cathy, Jimmy, Matt and myself, all getting together in the remaining weeks.

This sudden reluctance to leave struck me unexpectedly with its intensity. It wasn’t as though I didn’t want to go away to university. Of course I did. I’d certainly worked hard enough to achieve the grades I needed to get on my journalism course. It was just that it finally seemed that tonight it was hitting home for the first time that this was really the end of a very important chapter in my life.