together. I jumped on the back of your bike and we flew across Cambridge, screaming with joy. Summer began that afternoon.
As teenagers we only saw each other in the school holidays and the older we got, the more things felt as though they were changing. I had my own friends – people you didn’t really know, who you only met sporadically. You never really talked about boarding school, never really told me about any friends you’d made there. It was almost as though you thought the time we spent apart didn’t really exist.
But I was still in Cambridge and the life I had when you weren’t there merged with the life I had whenever you came back. Caitlin and Gemma slowly filled up the gaps you had left behind, and we became as close as you and I had been. The three of us would wander around town together, trying on and discarding every outfit in River Island, sitting for hours in Burger King, whispering secrets to each other as we shared cups of coffee and, after we turned fourteen, filling up the little tin foil ashtrays with the butts of our Silk Cut cigarettes that Gemma, who looked the oldest of all of us, would buy. I thought, when you came home that summer, that you would disapprove of my new habit until I saw the packet of Marlboro in your shirt pocket.
When you were home you always seemed so alone. Your school friends, if you had any, miles away and your old friends distanced from you by your being away. We forget so quickly as teenagers. We are resilient, moving on to the next group of friends, the next adventure so easily. Sometimes I’d see you, playing football on the Common with the boys from our street. You and John were thick as thieves still – you always would be – but there was something about you then that made you seem aloof, as though you’d been left behind.
No, not left behind. Rupert Tremayne was never left behind. You were always light years ahead of all of us.
Every evening you would squeeze through the gap in the fence that divided off the bottoms of our gardens, the gap we’d made as children, to spend time with me. We’d lie on our backs in Mum’s apple orchard and watch the sky change colour. We’d wish upon a star and smoke cigarette after cigarette – swallowing half packets of peppermints before we went home, foolishly believing that would stop our parents finding out we smoked.
Sometimes your fingers would find mine and you’d hold my hand like you did at my grandmother’s funeral.
‘I’m still here,’ you’d say. ‘Even though I’m miles away, I’m always yours, Jessie.’
But everything felt different, as though a chasm was opening up between us. I wondered if things would have been different had you been born a girl or I a boy – would that have helped us maintain our sibling-like closeness? The onset of puberty had highlighted the differences between us, fascinating us as much as it scared us. I started to wonder what would become of us, where we could possibly go from here. I started to wonder how I would feel when you eventually told me about your first girlfriend. I started to wonder how quickly you would forget me then. Because it seemed obvious to me the summer we turned fifteen that it was only a matter of time before you got a girlfriend. The willowy, blonde trust-fund girls at my school had had their eyes on you for years.
There was nothing I could do to stop it. I was so sure of our fate when I was fifteen. I had always thought nothing could come between us, but then as we started our slow progression from childhood to adulthood, I was beginning to see that one day, something would …
Kew Gardens is probably the most beautiful place in London to get married. I couldn’t believe Gemma was having her wedding here after organising so many for other people. And I couldn’t believe I wasn’t going to be well enough to enjoy it. I don’t know how I made it through the wedding ceremony.
As if she knew how I was feeling, Caitlin put an arm carefully and quietly around my waist as Gemma and Mike said their vows – if it hadn’t been for that I think I would have passed out. Thanks to her, I don’t think anyone noticed. She had a word with the photographer too, who did all the photos that I was needed for as quickly as possible.
‘Why don’t you go and talk to Rupert,’ Caitlin said. ‘No harm in catching up if you feel well enough?’
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of myself, remembering what Mum had said to me – to just take today as it comes, enjoy myself. I smiled at Caitlin and walked away from her towards Rupert.
I’d seen him during the ceremony, standing next to Mum. He was wearing a grey suit and purple tie, a white shirt with a matching buttonhole. Mum had been right – he did look handsome. I’d only seen him in a suit once before, at his graduation, and I was suddenly hit by a sensation of how much time had passed, of how much of each other’s lives we’d missed. He’d caught my eye as Gemma and Mike were signing the register and winked at me. My stomach had flipped over.
Rupert was sitting on a bench outside the Orangery and I sat down next to him. Kew looked so beautiful in the summer light and I thought about how lucky we were to be able to enjoy Gemma’s wedding here, how lucky she was to work in the most beautiful place in London. While Caitlin had been busy working her way up the nursing ranks to Junior Sister and I had been a cadet journalist, Gemma had surprised us all. After flunking out of her A levels, she’d managed to scrape through a management course before moving to London. She worked at various hotels before landing a job in the Operations team at Kew Gardens. Ten years later and she was Operations Manager, in charge of all the events at Kew from live music festivals to weddings, including her own.
We sat on the bench and Rupert talked while I listened. He had just come back from a conference in America and was excited about it. I thought he hadn’t noticed that I’d left the talking to him but just before we went into the Orangery, where we would be eating, he asked me if I was all right, his hand gently finding mine.
‘I’m tired,’ I said. ‘I didn’t sleep well last night – it’s been so hot.’ He looked at me oddly. ‘How are you?’ I asked, noticing dark smudges under his eyes that hadn’t been there the last time I saw him.
‘Jet-lagged,’ he said. ‘But not too tired to dance later, if you’d do me the honour.’ He grinned at his own formality and I noticed a blush colour his cheekbones, just as it had done when we were teenagers.
‘That would be lovely,’ I said.
‘I’ll see you after the dinner then,’ he said, dropping my hand. It felt empty when he let it go.
I spent most of the meal watching Mum and Rupert out of the corner of my eye, wondering what she was talking to him about, wondering what she was telling him. They were both laughing too much for it to be anything serious.
I started to feel better as the day went on and when Rupert walked over to me after Gemma and Mike’s first dance, taking my hand to lead me onto the dance floor, I felt happy for the first time in a long time. Dancing with Rupert felt significant somehow, for both of us. As we danced, his hand on the small of my back and my arms around his neck, it felt like something that was meant to be.
When the song finished Rupert looked at me, his hand still on my back, drawing me close to him.
‘Shall we get some fresh air?’ he asked.
I
