One Perfect Summer

through the next few hours until it’s pub opening time.
    ‘Hi there, I’m trying to get hold of Joe. I’m a friend of his from Cornwall.’
    I chew my fingernails nervously and study Jessie with intent. I can’t hear what the person on the other end of the line is saying.
    ‘Oh, right. Do you know where he’s gone?’ Pause. ‘So you haven’t heard from him at all?’ Pause. ‘Is Ryan there, by any chance?’
    My heart leaps up into my throat. This was a last resort.
    ‘Oh. Sorry to hear that. Do you mind if I ask what happened?’
    Blah blah whatthehellaretheysaying ?
    ‘Damn. When was this?’ Pause. ‘Okay, then, thanks for your help.’
    He hangs up and my interrogation begins.
    ‘ What? What did they say?’
    ‘It was his dad, I think, and he doesn’t know where Joe is and Ryan is back in jail.’
    ‘No! Why? ’
    ‘Pub brawl, apparently. Back in October. Good news, hey?’
    No. No, it’s not good news. I’m still no closer to finding out about Joe. Jessie sees my expression.
    ‘What are you going to do now?’ he asks.
    ‘I’m going to go to London.’
    ‘What about work?’
    ‘They’ll have to make do without me.’
    ‘Are you sure, Alice?’
    ‘Yes. Why are you looking at me like that?’
    He averts his gaze. He seems uncomfortable.
    ‘Tell me,’ I persist.
    ‘Are you sure about him? About Joe?’
    ‘What do you mean?’ The bad feeling that had dulled now intensifies.
    ‘It’s just that . . . Maybe how you felt is not the same as . . .’ His voice trails off. When he sees my expression he hurriedly speaks again. ‘Don’t get angry . . . I’m just saying . . . Him not coming here clearly doesn’t have anything to do with Ryan. Ryan was back in jail in October – that’s not long after Joe left, right? The chances of Ryan finding him in that time . . .’
    ‘It’s still possible,’ I say, although I don’t really believe it anymore.
    ‘Mmm, maybe.’
    I don’t want him to continue, but he does. Gently, this time.
    ‘Perhaps he’s moved on, you know?’
    ‘No,’ I say firmly, and then a lump lodges itself in my throat and my second ‘no’, comes out sounding gargled. My eyes fill with tears and a choked sob comes out of my mouth. Then I’m crying for real. Jessie edges closer and wraps his arms around me. I cry into his shoulder.
    I can’t bear to accept it, but Jessie could be right. It’s been almost a year. If Joe cared about me, he would have come for me by now, surely?

 
    September rolls around far too quickly and soon I’m back at college for my second year. I’ve spent the summer punting and reading, mostly Shakespeare and Volume 2 of the ‘small child’ on Parker’s Piece – the large expanse of parkland between the city and my campus – and I feel much more prepared than I did a year ago.
    I finally invested in a bicycle, bought with the money that I’ve made from punting, and after a very shaky start, when I almost took out a couple of pedestrians and a bus almost took me out, I am relatively proficient at cycling. It’s certainly going to make my journey to campus quicker, if a bit more precarious.
    Jessie found a second student to move in – another girl to balance out his two male students from last year. Her name is Emily and she has medium-length black hair and a nose ring. She wears a lot of dark eye make-up and black clothes, even when it’s hot. She has that in common with Jessie, but otherwise she’s quiet and tends to stay in her room. Sometimes we forget that she’s living with us at all.
    We have a big night out in the middle of the month when Sammy, Mike and Chris return to Cambridge after spending the summer with their families in Brighton, Northampton and York, respectively. It’s good to have the old crowd back together again, although we’re having to spend more nights at the Pickerel and fewer at the Anchor because Jessie has been avoiding Blondie. He dumped her and now she’s got another boyfriend, who gives Jessie evils whenever he’s in the vicinity. It doesn’t make for very happy evenings on the river.
    I never did go to London.
    That day – the day that I told Jessie about Joe – passed by without me going. The next day too. And the next. Eventually my need to go fizzled out. My parents were disgruntled that I didn’t spend part of my holidays at home. They decided to come here for a long weekend, but it was awkward. I took them punting, which they didn’t seem to appreciate, and then I spent the