One Perfect Summer

you,’ he says, more fervently.
    ‘What? When?’ I splutter.
    ‘Now. As soon as possible. I don’t want to wait any longer.’
    ‘But, Lukas . . .’
    ‘Don’t you love me?’
    ‘Yes, but . . .’ Joe.
    ‘Then why not?’
    ‘I’m only twenty-two!’ Joe.
    ‘It doesn’t matter! It shouldn’t matter!’ He gets up and comes to sit beside me. ‘I want a life with you. I don’t want to wait any longer. I’ve had enough of my parents trying to control me!’ His tone turns to anger. ‘I don’t want to wait any longer,’ he says again.
    Joe, Joe, Joe, Joe, Joe. It’s like a chant repeating over and over in my mind.
    ‘Say something,’ he demands.
    ‘I . . . I can’t . . .’ I shake my head, hopelessly, and my eyes fill with tears.
    ‘You can’t what? Can’t speak or can’t . . .’
    ‘I can’t marry you. Not now.’
    ‘Why not?’ He takes my hand, pleading with me. ‘Why not?’
    ‘I’m only twenty-two,’ I say again in barely a whisper.
    ‘We’ll wait a year. We’ll get married next summer.’
    ‘I’ll only be twenty-three!’ I find my voice. ‘I don’t understand what the rush is.’
    ‘I don’t understand why you won’t consider it,’ he says coldly.
    ‘It’s not that I won’t . . .’ My voice trails off. ‘I . . . I . . .’
    ‘What?’
    I take a deep breath and wait a moment before speaking. ‘Rosalinde was your first love.’
    ‘Well, yes.’
    I feel shaky as I look out of the window. ‘Joe was mine.’
    ‘Who’s Joe?’ He’s confused.
    ‘A boy I met in Dorset, the summer before I came to university.’ I meet his eyes. ‘He was my first love. My first . . . everything.’
    He stares at me, understanding. And then he returns to his armchair, resting his chin on his hand as he gravely regards me. ‘Tell me about him,’ he commands.
    And so I do, fully aware that my words might drive him away. Accepting that fact, knowing that I might lose him, but unable to keep quiet any longer.
    He listens without comment, calmly observing me as I tell him everything.
    When I’ve finished he doesn’t speak for some time. The silence is deafening.
    ‘So let me get this straight,’ he says eventually in a cold voice. ‘You’re still in love with a boy who broke his promise to you, who you’ve fruitlessly searched for, who you will likely never see again, and you’re willing to lose me , all for the sake of a dream that will never come true?’
    I stare at him, not speaking.
    He speaks in a low voice. ‘I have alienated my family, lost the woman I was meant to marry, committed to a life in this country . . . For what? For a girl who I thought loved me. A girl who I thought was mine. But you were never mine, were you?’
    Out of the blue his eyes fill with tears, and it’s so shocking to me because I’ve never seen Lukas cry.
    ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ I scramble over to hold his hands as tears roll down his cheeks. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why he’s still so much on my mind.’
    ‘Don’t say that!’ His face contorts with pain and I feel distraught for hurting him.
    ‘Please . . . I’m sorry.’ My heart feels so full of love for him. Joe did break his promise to me. I must be insane for waiting around for him. It’s been four years, for crying out loud! What is wrong with me?
    He lets go of my hands and roughly brushes away his tears. I climb up onto his lap and press my face into his neck. A moment later he puts his arms around me and holds me tightly. We stay like that for a very long time.

 
    That Christmas, Lukas takes me to Germany to meet his family. His mother sends their chauffeur to collect us from the airport. I was kind of hoping it might be Klaus – I think any familiar face would help settle my stomach – but apparently he now works in Berlin.
    ‘Don’t be nervous,’ Lukas says to me in German, squeezing my hand.
    ‘I’m trying,’ I reply, also in German. For the last two months we’ve attempted to converse in his language as much as possible. I’m not too bad. I wouldn’t say I’m good, mind you, but at least I should be able to understand a little bit of what’s going on.
    Lukas’s family live in a stately home on a lake south-west of Munich. By the time we reach it we have already driven through some of the loveliest countryside I’ve ever seen, past multi-turreted castles and tall pines capped with thick, fluffy snow. Now, in front of me, at the end of a long driveway, is a majestic