One Perfect Summer

could dissect the vast array of ball gowns that we see in front of us, from the sublime to the extreme.
    One of my merry passengers tops up my champagne and Jessie and I raise another glass to each other.
    Then, once more, I scan the crowd for Lukas.
    I wish I could stop myself from doing this, but I can’t. I’ve been doing it all night. I keep telling myself that it’s because he’s the only person I know who goes to Trinity, so of course I’d feel compelled to look out for familiar faces. But that’s not it. There’s something else. He intrigues me, and I’m a little freaked out by how much.
    The fireworks kick off and they’re spectacular – but I’m distracted, and when it’s all over and I still haven’t seen Lukas I punt back to the station feeling quite deflated.
    That night in bed I let myself think about Joe for the first time in a long while. I’ve become good at closing off my mind from him, protecting myself from the pain that comes with thinking those thoughts, but tonight I need to remember . . .
    There’s a full moon, and the air is unnervingly still. We lie together in a grassy field. He moves on top of me and I pull him in closer as his tongue explores my mouth. I want him desperately – we haven’t yet made love – but Dyson distracts us.
    I smile to myself as Joe berates him, and then my mind is flooded with the image of his beloved dog sprawled out and damaged, his fur matted with blood. Oh, Dyson . . . I can’t believe he’s dead.
    Suddenly Ryan is groping me and I jolt and furiously shake my head to push out that memory. I stare ahead in the darkness.
    Where are you, Joe?
    What if something has happened to him? What if Ryan found him? A cold sweat washes over me. Why have I never wondered this before? What if Ryan hurt him? What if that’s the reason for him not coming for me? How can I find out? I should be in London. I shouldn’t be here, having fun on the river and being distracted by a good-looking foreign man. I shouldn’t even be using the description good-looking in relation to Lukas! My fingers curl under and press themselves into the palms of my hands and the pain is a welcome distraction from the pain in my chest.
    Tomorrow I’m going to London.
    Having made this decision, I can’t get back to sleep. Eventually I get up and start to pack, my heart hammering with adrenalin as I pull my suitcase out from the top of my wardrobe. I can’t think straight. I don’t know what I’ll need. I rummage through my drawers, trying to get my head together. I hear a muffled knock and look sharply at the wall. Jessie. Am I being too noisy? Cautiously I return his knock. Moments later he stumbles through and climbs into my empty bed.
    ‘What are you doing?’ he mumbles, still half asleep.
    ‘Packing,’ I tell him. ‘I’ve got to go home.’
    ‘What? Why? Has something happened?’
    ‘No, nothing. But I have to go.’
    ‘ Why? ’
    I take a deep breath and stare at him. I never told him about Joe. I didn’t need to. Jessie – being Jessie – made me smile again. I didn’t want to cloud our relationship by bringing sadness into the equation.
    He sits up, trying to focus. I perch on the end of the bed.
    ‘Last year . . . last summer . . . I met a boy. It was in Dorset. I was on holiday with my parents.’
    No reaction. He waits for me to go on.
    ‘I fell in love with him. And it wasn’t just a holiday romance . . . It was real love. I know it was.’ It’s important to me that he understands this.
    He nods at me. ‘I believe you.’ After that, I tell him everything.
    ‘God,’ he says, staring ahead when I’ve finished. ‘But why now? What’s making you think that you’ll find him now, after almost a year?’
    ‘Nothing. I haven’t heard a thing from him.’
    ‘So why ?’
    Lukas. But I’m not going to admit to that. Lukas is why I let myself dream about Joe. I wasn’t expecting my memory to lead me to Ryan and the thought that he might have hurt Joe.
    ‘It’s only now occurred to me that something might have happened to him,’ I explain. ‘I need to find out.’
    ‘But how will going to London help? Why don’t you call the pub his parents worked at and ask them if they’ve heard anything from him?’
    It’s as if a brick has landed on my head. Why didn’t I think of that?
    ‘Or better yet, I could do it,’ Jessie suggests. ‘I could pretend to be an old friend. They might hang up if they realise it’s you.’
    All I need now is to get