The Reunion

loins; he had the clearest flashback to that afternoon, it made him dizzy. ‘It’ll just be you and me in the love nest, I promise.’ He grinned at Dan, who smiled back, then looked away.
    Andrew and Lilah were the last to leave. Conor kicked them out just after four, Lilah protesting loudly that it was way too early to go home yet before falling over on the pavement and howling with rage that it was all Conor’s fault. The first taxi they’d called refused to take them, the driver took one look at Lilah, shook his head and drove off. Andrew just shrugged and called another one. The patience of a saint, Andrew had. Conor would be the first to admit that Lilah was a gorgeous girl and a good laugh, but he had no idea how his best friend coped with that level of drama day in, day out.
    He was the lucky one. He knew that as they sat together on the balcony, covered in a blanket, Jen in front of him, leaning back against his chest. Her eyelids were drooping but she refused to go to bed; she wanted to watch the sun come up, she said.
    ‘It feels like the beginning, doesn’t it?’ she murmured sleepily. Beneath the blanket she snaked her arm back behind her and around his waist.
    ‘Yeah, it does.’
    She was right. They’d been together since they met on holiday when they were sixteen years old, but this felt different. This – the end of college, moving in, starting new jobs – it felt as though life were starting for real now, no more rehearsal. He was lucky. He kissed the top of her head, said it out loud.
    ‘I’m so lucky, beautiful. So lucky.’
    ‘Not as lucky as I am.’ He squeezed her closer. ‘I can’t think of anywhere on earth I’d rather be right now.’
    ‘Maybe the French house?’
    ‘Not even the French house. This is too perfect.’ The sky was turning pale on the horizon, the merest hint of warmth in the grey. ‘In any case, we’ll be back there in no time.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Conor said. He hadn’t told her yet, wouldn’t tell her now. There was no way his ma was going to let him skip family Christmas to spend it with his friends in France. There had already been an argument about how he’d spent all summer there and how Christmas was a time for family. And going to church. He’d tell her later, closer to the time. Who knew, he thought, he might even be able to change Ma’s mind? The thought of ever being able to change his mother’s mind made him laugh out loud.
    ‘What’s so funny?’ she asked him.
    ‘Nothing,’ he said softly. ‘You are falling asleep there because you want to watch the sunrise. You going to watch it with your eyes closed?’
    He helped her to her feet and took her upstairs to bed.

Chapter Twenty-nine

    November 1995
    ANDREW STOOD LIKE a soldier, Natalie thought, his back straight and chin raised; she could almost picture him in uniform. She tried not to picture him in uniform and listened to his speech instead.
    ‘I remember the first time she ever spoke to me,’ he said. ‘I was in the library, right at the very back, head deep in
Blackstone’s Statutes on Public Law and Human Rights
, and I looked up and there was this girl walking towards me, this
goddess
. She seemed about eight feet tall, she was just legs and blonde hair and bright red lips…’ Lilah giggled, she had the good grace to blush. ‘I knew who she was, of course, because everyone at college had heard of Lilah Lewis. Lilah Lewis was famous…’
    ‘Infamous!’ Dan interrupted.
    ‘Well, that too. In any case – and I’m not joking, now – I watched her walk towards me and I could feel my insides turn to mush because she was smiling at me,
right at me
, it had to be at me, because there was no one else around. She came up to me, she perched there on the desk, nudging my books aside with her gorgeous arse, and without any preamble she said, “You’re not seriously taking Karen Samuels to the Freshers’ Ball, are you? Because, sweetheart. You can do
so
much better.”’
    ‘Oh, God, she’s shameless! She’s utterly shameless!’ Conor laughed. Everyone was laughing, Lilah batting her lashes and smiling coquettishly at them all. They’d heard the story before, they’d heard it a dozen times, but it was one of those tales that didn’t get old, one of those first meeting, first kiss stories that you never tire of hearing.
    ‘Then she took my pen out of my hand,’ Andrew went on, ‘and scrawled her room number in large print, all over my neat and detailed notes, then she