The Reunion

stereo up louder, louder, started singing at the top of her voice. Andrew looked at her and grinned and put his foot down.
    They almost made it. At the end of the straight section of road, there was a bend, and around that bend came a Land Rover. They almost made it. Almost is nothing, though, when you’re doing seventy-five miles an hour and there’s nowhere to go. Andrew never talks about how it felt, the moment he knew it was all over, when there was nowhere to go: Dan’s car to the left, the Land Rover in front. He had to swerve right, steer through the trees. He was never going to make it, there was no way. But there was nowhere else to go.
    It felt as though everything in the world were made of metal. He was made of metal, he was breathing metal, every sound he heard was the scrape of metal, the crunch of it. Hard, sharp, unyielding.
    The car had stopped moving.
    Andrew’s hands were on the steering wheel, he was still holding the steering wheel.
    He turned his head.
    Natalie was looking at him; her lips were moving, but no sounds were coming out. There was blood on her face, blood in her mouth. Had she bitten her tongue?
    His neck hurt, and his leg. He looked down, there was blood soaking through his jeans around his knee.
    Natalie? His seat belt wouldn’t come undone. Natalie? It’s going to be OK. You’re going to be OK.
    Someone was shouting, he couldn’t see who it was.
    Slowly, he turned his head. Conor was gone, he wasn’t in the back seat of the car. He must have got out already.
    Maybe, Andrew reasoned, he’d been unconscious for a while? For how long?
    Conor’s gone to get help, he said to Natalie, but she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were closed and there was blood coming out of her mouth, running down her chin.
    Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ.
    He had to get out of the car.
    Finally, the seatbelt clicked and he yanked it free. He turned back, to his right, to open the door and then he noticed that the windscreen was gone, completely gone, and that there was a pair of trainers on the car bonnet, right at the end of the bonnet. Black Converse, Conor’s trainers. He couldn’t understand why they were there, at the front of the car, when Conor had been at the back.
    His door had buckled, it took him a moment to get it open. His leg was painful, really painful. He pulled himself out of the car. It seemed darker, much darker than it had been when they were driving. What time was it?
    Someone was shouting.
    He turned around. There were two people on the other side of the car, they were fighting.
    Jesus Christ, he couldn’t stand, he was going to fall.
    It was Dan, Dan and Jen, they were fighting.
    Dan was shouting, he was pushing Jen, he was holding on to her. She was screaming.
    Dan was crying out, he’s gone, Jen, he’s gone. Don’t look, Jesus Christ. No, Jen, don’t.
    Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.
    When he tells the story, he never mentions any of that.

 
     
    24 May 1996
    Email exchange between Andrew and Conor
    Andrew to Conor
    Got it!
    C to A
    Got what?
    A to C
    The job! Fineman & Hicks. Got the letter this morning.
    C to A
    Result! That’s brilliant, mate. Awesome. You totally deserve it. Many, many beers later?
    A to C
    Definitely. Greyhound, eight-ish?

    C to A
    Sounds good. I think this deserves a proper celebration, though. Party? Weekend away?
    A to C
    All partied out. Lilah hasn’t stopped entertaining for weeks… I’m exhausted. Weekend away sounds good, though. Shall we aim for something mid-June? Because once I start the new job I’m basically going to have no social life for about three years…
    C to A
    Mid-June works for me. I’ll liaise with the others and set something up. This really is amazing news, man. You’re going to do great things. Proud of you!

Chapter Fourteen

    IF SHE WALKED fast enough, she’d warm up. There was a B&B in the village, which couldn’t be more than a couple of miles away. Three, perhaps. Natalie used to walk there and back almost every morning, although of course she never did it during a snow storm. Lilah could manage, she’d be fine. She could run six miles in under an hour, though probably not in Ugg boots through the snow.
    She picked up her pace and tried not to think about how cold she was. Why hadn’t she gone back for her fucking coat? She tried not to be frightened by the fact that the snow was falling heavily now, that she risked getting caught in the centre of the blizzard. She tried not to think about