An Impossible Thing Called Love. Belinda Missen
prickly when she wanted to.
‘What about your friend from last night?’ Heather asked.
I shot her a surprised look. ‘My who?’
‘That guy from last night. The first aider,’ she said. ‘Looked like you were getting along alright when we saw you.’
‘William?’ I smiled. The truth was, my heart skipped each time he’d worked his way into my thoughts, which had been often enough that I’d thought I’d seen him strolling over Waverley Bridge earlier in the afternoon. It wasn’t him but, for a brief second, I was prepared to give chase. ‘He was lovely, wasn’t he?’
‘Oh.’ She smiled knowingly, looking to Josh. His face mirrored hers in the sweet mockery of friendship. ‘His name is William. Josh, Joshua, he has a name.’
‘Be quiet. He was lovely, and he helped me when I needed it. I’m sure he was just doing his job.’ Though, even as I said those words, a part of me hoped that wasn’t solely the case.
Underneath Edinburgh Castle, bathed in soft purple light, traditional Scottish music rang out across the parish gardens. Our guide attempted shouting instructions over the top of it all, but he was easily drowned out. It needn’t have mattered; friends and strangers broke off into small groups as the dancing began in earnest.
Half the fun lay in trying to work it all out. Arms were linked, hands were held and, through a bit of spinning and something that looked a little like a jig, we figured the rest out through tears of laughter, and a whole lot of trial and error. Finding an ounce confidence, things got quicker, and the night fast became a kaleidoscope of beats and colour.
And red hair.
I came to a breathless, unfit stop, lungs burning in protest at the sudden burst of exercise, joyous as it might have been. Leaning against an artificially green tree, William nursed a drink. Hi-vis had been swapped in favour of a warmer woollen pullover, a long coat, dark jeans and scarf, but it was definitely him. While the girl in front of him spoke like he was the only person in her room, he looked about distractedly. A brief smile or nod was all he could afford her.
I wondered – would it be okay to say hello? After all, he was only doing his job. Maybe it would be a bit weird. Hang it, I thought, I could at least say thank you. Edging forward, I half-expected him to have no recollection whatsoever. But, when his gaze landed on me and he smiled, my heart squeezed and the Rolodex inside my mind came to a screaming halt at W. W for William. Willy. Will. Wedding? Stop.
‘Emmy!’ He straightened and pushed himself away from the trunk. Taking the few unsure steps towards me, he left his companion with a handshake and a smile.
I smiled. ‘William, hello.’
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘How’s the … how’s the face?’
‘Face is good.’ I took a step closer, tipping my nose down so he could get a better look. ‘Not so bad at all.’
‘Good.’
‘I just wanted to say thank you for last night,’ I said, nervously placing my hands in, and then out of my pockets. ‘You know, for the help.’
‘You’re more than welcome.’
‘Anyway…’
His focus switched to the group behind me, and then back again. ‘You’re out of breath.’
‘Dancing.’ I threw a wave towards what was left of my tour group. ‘As it turns out, I’m not as fit as I thought I was.’
‘As it also turns out,’ he began, placing his bottled water on the ground by his feet, ‘I am no Dashing White Sergeant, so all I can offer you is White Guy at Wedding dancing.’
There was that W word again. It felt like a trail of ants were dancing up my arm.
‘Dashing what? White guy at wedding?’ I laughed, slightly confused, then winced.
‘Here.’ William closed the last gap between us, hand held high in readiness. ‘Let me show you.’
His touch burned into my skin as he slipped gentle fingers between mine and pulled me closer, flush against his body and exposed to his warmth. I closed my eyes and let my body do the rest, my hand on his shoulder, his across my back, my cheek dipped against his and just … felt. Stubbly skin against mine, soft breath against my cheek, and the smell of wool wash that lingered on clothing. We swayed slowly, removed from the pounding background beat, as if nothing and nobody else in the world mattered because there, in this moment, they didn’t.
‘You know, if this is White Guy at Wedding dancing, you hereby have a standing invite to any wedding I’m ever invited to.’
William shook with laughter. ‘You know what else happens at weddings?’
‘You shag bridesmaids?’ I said.
‘Can’t say I’ve had that dishonour, yet.’
‘No?’ I asked. ‘What is it, then?’
‘Alcohol.’ He moved away only slightly. Cold air rushed to fill the space. ‘Want to get out of here before the fireworks start, grab a drink?
I glanced back at my friends, who were lost in the revelry of their own night. I held a finger up between us. ‘Let me just go tell some people I’m leaving.’
‘I’ll wait here.’ He smiled softly.
I pointed to the ground, determined not to lose him again. ‘Right here.’
William jumped to his left. ‘Not here?’
‘Right here.’ I held his shoulders as we laughed.
‘Alright.’ His eyes widened. ‘I’m waiting. Scurry.’
Heather spun like a slow-motion film scene. In the time since I’d seen her last, which was not long at all, she’d had her hair sprayed pink, green, and blue; a perfect representation of her personality. She swung around to a new dance partner, Josh keeping an eagle eye on her, returning to her side at the earliest possible opportunity. Not for the first time, I wondered if there was something more going on. If that were true, it would make me the happiest third wheel on earth.
‘Hey.’ I tapped her shoulder.
‘Oh!’ She peered about excitedly. ‘Emmy! Where have you been?’
‘Just over there.’ I pointed. ‘I ran into William. We’ve been talking.’
‘Who?’
‘William, the first aid guy from last night.’
‘He’s here? You know what this is, Emmy? Kismet.’ She stopped and drew back with a look of smug satisfaction. ‘Oh, sweetie, your face.’
I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off.
‘You like him.’
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t a lie, but I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. After all, we were disappearing in a day or two, no need to get out the calligraphy pens yet.
‘We’re only going for a drink, not picking rings. I just want to let you know in case you came looking for me.’
Like a mother looking for a child, her arm flew out into open space, grappling for Josh. She caught him mid-twirl and dragged him into the discussion. He bounced across and came to a stop with his hand on Heather’s shoulder again.
‘Hey.’ His chest heaved. ‘What’s up?’
‘Emmy’s going to get drinks with William,’ Heather explained, before turning her attention back to me. ‘Do you need money? I’ve got some money. What about condoms. Josh, have you got any spare?’
‘Spare? What? No, I don’t really carry them just for fun.’ He shook his hands about in front of him while Heather performed a pat-down.
His