‘Just fantastic,’ the man repeated before moving on to the next photograph, and I felt an overwhelming surge of pride. I had to tighten my grip on my champagne flute to stop myself from tapping him on the shoulder and sayingJoe took these. Yes, my Joe. Isn’t he incredible?
The next photograph was also black-and-white. A young girl wearing wellies that looked about two sizes too big, her face shining with pure, untarnished joy as Joe managed to capture the exact moment she landed in a giant puddle, water fanning around her like the hem of a skirt. I could almost hear the squeal of delight that her tiny O-shaped mouth must have made, my own mouth shaping itself into an involuntary smile. I walked slowly along, following the line of people around the room as we moved from photograph to photograph, each invoking a different emotion to the last.
A small crowd had gathered around the next installation, which had been suspended from the ceiling, giving it pride of place in the very centre of the gallery. I watched the backs of people’s heads turn this way and that, pointing things out to the person next to them, but there were too many people for me to even glimpse a corner of it. And so I waited, sipping my champagne and experiencing it through everyone’s facialexpressions. People were smiling. Their shoulders shaking with laughter. Their brows creased thoughtfully. That man looked like he had tears in his eyes. And that woman – well, she was looking right at .?.?. me? I frowned, peering over my own shoulder, but there was no one behind me. She was two rows in front, so the fact she was looking in the opposite direction to everyone else wasn’t exactly subtle. She whispered something to the woman stood next to her who also turned and glanced my way, something about what she saw prompting her to nod in agreement. I felt my cheeks flush and for some inexplicable reason I automatically looked down at my skirt, my free hand scrabbling blindly at the back to check it wasn’t tucked into my knickers. It was not.
I smiled down at my Converse, the idea of that happening, of the world coming full circle and recreating the moment I first met Joe, tonight of all nights, enough to draw a bubble of laughter from my lips. By the time I looked up again, a gap had appeared in the crowd, and the image that greeted me made me freeze. It was the only photograph in full colour, the vibrant blues and yellows and reds almost blinding in their intensity amidst a room of black and white. But that wasn’t what caused all the breath to leave my body.
It was me. The photograph was me. Or rather a version of myself that was so far from who I was today, I almost didn’t recognise her. I was wearing my favourite blue dress, the one reserved for special occasions, with its tight fitted bodice and tulle skirt that stopped several inches above the ankle. My head was tipped backwards in frozen laughter, my arms stretched out almost as wide as the skirt of my dress, which formed a blurred ring around my shins. Rain was falling all around me, droplets glittering against the bare skin of my arms as I turned my head up towards the sky, welcoming the raindrops as they bounced around my bare feet. The memory was hazy to begin with,like looking through a fogged-up window, but then the edges sharpened, and I was jolted right back to that day.
It was a Saturday. A perfect summer’s evening. July, I think. Joe and I were on our way back from a wedding, whose I don’t remember. Clearly that detail was irrelevant. It was such a warm evening that we’d decided to walk home, Joe with his tuxedo jacket slung over one shoulder, me with my heels dangling from two fingers. We were talking about everything and nothing. Whose turn it was to make the hot chocolates that evening and whether we’d ever consider living abroad (after a full list of pros and cons, we settled on no, we’d miss our friends and family too much). Somehow, we then got onto the topic of who we thought would die first.
‘Definitely me,’ I proclaimed without hesitating. ‘My love for ice cream coupled with your quite frankly ludicrous love affair with cycling means I’m probably already double your metabolic age.’
Joe laughed, loosening his bowtie so it hung around his collar. ‘I always wanted to date an older woman.’ He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. I pushed him playfully away, but he grabbed hold of my hand, hooking his arm around my waist, not letting me go. ‘Well, what with your sociopathic obsession with true crime podcasts, I’m going to say me.’
‘I do know about ten different ways I could murder you and get away with it,’ I agreed, my voice deadpan.
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Joe chuckled, his fingers tickling my ribs until I squealed. We walked in silence for a while, our steps perfectly in sync. The sun had almost set, its pinky-orange hue flickering across the horizon, like someone had torn a rip in the otherwise ink-blue sky.
‘If I did kick the bucket first though, I’d want you to find someone else.’
‘You mean break my period of perpetual mourning?’ I cried,my free hand flying dramatically to my chest in mock horror.
‘I’m serious.’ An edge to Joe’s voice made me look up and I saw that he was. Serious. His eyes wide and imploring as they stared down at me, as if he was looking right into my soul, his jaw jutting out in that way it did whenever he was talking about something important. ‘I’d want you to move on, Jenny. To find happiness again. I’d hate to think that I was ever responsible for holding you back, for pressing pause on your life.’
I stopped walking, the concrete warm beneath my feet as I turned, staring up at the man I loved. The man that was standing in front of me telling me he wanted nothing more than for me to be happy, even if that happiness was with someone else. I wound my wrists around his neck, balancing on my tiptoes to reach.
‘Well, you have set somewhat of a high bar, Mr Carter—’
‘That is true, I pity the poor sucker that’s got to follow this.’ A smug grin teased his mouth upwards, the seriousness of the conversation disappearing as quickly as it first began.
‘—but I promise to try,’ I whispered, my eyes locking with his before I sealed my vow with a kiss.
That’s when the rain had started. Lightly at first, a fine mist that you could barely feel. But then the heavens opened, steam swirling around my toes as the raindrops pummelled the warm concrete, soaking us in an instant. I shrieked, running a few short steps to shelter under a nearby tree, but when I turned back around, Joe hadn’t moved. He was wet through, his white dress shirt almost translucent as it stuck to him like a second skin. But he was grinning, face tilted upwards as he welcomed the raindrops chasing one another down his cheeks. He held out a hand.
‘Come dance with me.’
‘You’re crazy!’ I shouted through the downpour, still huddled under the safety of the tree.
‘Maybe.’ He laughed. ‘But life’s too short to wait for the rainto pass, Jenny.’
His words echoed round my head now, demanding to be heard as I remembered how I’d reached out, letting him pull me tight against his body. Our hips moved as one, a single shadow swaying back and forth on the pavement in the final drops of sunlight. Joe spun me round, laughter and rainwater ricocheting all around us. I remembered the flash of Joe’s camera, the click of the shutter echoing in my ears as he took a step back and captured that moment. Like he knew on some level that I’d need to see it one day.
A single tear rolled down my cheek as I read the title of the piece, a single word in simple font on the plaque beneath.
Life.
A flash of navy caught my eye, dragging me back to the present day. There it was again. A familiar head of sandy-brown hair weaving its way through the crowd, that distinctive double crown I’d recognise anywhere. It was him. My heart threatened to leap straight out of my mouth as I jostled my way through the throngs of people, desperate to catch another glimpse. My elbow collided roughly with someone as I went, but I ignored the pointed tuts and sound of breaking glass tinkling behind me. The white walls of the gallery blurred as I spun around, frantically trying to spot him amidst the happy, oblivious strangers.
And then there he was. Stood by the open door, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, looking straight at me. His unseasonably thick woollen jumper and beaten-up Chelsea boots looked out of place amidst a sea of crisp white shirts and floaty summer dresses. He gave a small, private smile, as though he’d just had the exact same thought, and then ducked through the door, disappearing into the street.
‘Joe!’ I yelled, without caring who heard me. Not that there was much chance of that. My voice was swallowed up by the buzz of chatter, everyone talking a little too loudly thanks to the free champagne still being circulated on tiny silver trays.
‘Excuse me!’ I yelled, not caring who or what I collided with as I elbowed my way towards the exit. I lunged for the door, stumbling down the steps and out onto the street, my upper lip beaded with sweat as I looked first left and then right, just in time to catch sight of Joe turning down a side street.
‘Joe, wait!’ I called desperately. But he didn’t stop. He kept walking, disappearing from view. I was crying now, running as fast as my legs would carry me. I couldn’t let him get away. I just couldn’t. I skidded round the corner, but Joe was still striding purposefully in the opposite direction, as if he had some place more important to be.
‘JustWAIT!’
