Page 4 of The Island of Hopes and Dreams

Rhys stalled just before he reached No. 1 Harbourside, a bar they’d frequented as students and the only real nod to their university days. He didn’t want to have to face big, confusing feelings, to be reminded of the past and a time when he was happy and carefree. Not joining them would be the easy option, yet he’d come this far.

A group of lads jostled past, their drunken voices cutting over the smaller groups of giggling women dressed in tiny skirts and barely-there tops.

Rhys continued walking, following the flow of people heading beneath the covered walkway lined with bars and restaurants. The sun glimmered on the water and everywhere was packed. The view to Pero’s Bridge with its horn-shaped sculptures and beyond to the floating harbour was a familiar sight. He tried to tell himself that it would be like old times, except it wasn’t. Everything was different;hewas different.

The familiar faces of his university friends gathered round a couple of tables in the bar took him back to being twenty and loving life. Fabs stuck out for being tall, dark and easily the most handsome of the group. When girls had flocked to him in those first few weeks of university, the rest of them had all benefitted by pulling the ones who weren’t lucky enough to attract his attention. Although only a few months older than Rhys, Fabs had been more worldly-wise, sophisticated, charming and wealthy – not that he’d ever intentionally flaunted it – but his tastes had been far more refined than the average student’s. He and Rhys were nothing alike and yet they’d clicked and had become best mates, managing to maintain their friendship even when Fabs had moved to London.

Fabs immediately eased Rhys’s worry by enveloping him in a thumping hug and then other friends were greeting him too: rugby player turned personal trainer Freddie, who’d been in the same halls in the first year; lawyer Barnaby, who still lived in Bristol; and another guy, Gareth, who he didn’t know as well but had been part of many a drunken night out as students.

Unsurprisingly, Zoe was hanging back.Avoiding me, Rhys thought. He glimpsed her standing at another table in her low-cut red dress, the only woman in a sea of men. She’d left him for a quality assurance manager job in a large construction company in Birmingham, which, from talk among their friends, had skyrocketed her career. He should be pleased for her, but the way she’d gone about undoing their life still hurt. He acknowledged her with a polite nod and she returned a tight smile. He didn’t owe her any more than that.

As a student, he’d happily ridden the wave of youth, relishing the freedom of escaping a small Welsh town and living it up in a city. At least that was how he remembered it. Overthinking things had increased with age, to his detriment – precisely how he’d wound himself up into a ball of anxiety about tonight, when he should enjoy being out with friends he rarely saw and not let Zoe bother him.

Drinks were consumed down on the harbourside before they moved to a cocktail bar on Park Street. By the time they’d walked to the White Lion in Clifton and settled on one side of the expansive terrace with views of the Clifton Suspension Bridge and the River Avon meandering through the Avon Gorge below, Rhys’s remaining uneasiness had been erased by beer, friends and plenty of reminiscing.

‘It’s been too long since I’ve been in Bristol!’ Fabs threw his arms across Rhys’s and Barnaby’s shoulders. ‘I miss you guys. Perhaps we should make this a yearly get-together.’

‘And not let so much time pass between seeing each other,’ Barnaby added. ‘I’m in.’

‘Me too.’ Rhys clamped his hand on Fabs’s shoulder. ‘Might be harder to plan once you’re married and living back in Sardinia, though.’

‘I’m sure Mirabel will be happy to come back to the UK as often as we can.’

‘Yes, for you two to seeherfriends and family,’ Barnaby stressed.

‘I’ll be able to escape for a couple of days; she’s laid-back like that.’

It was true, Fabs and Mirabel seemed to be the perfect match: both with striking looks, which made for an enviably beautiful couple, but they also worked effortlessly as a partnership and were friends as well as lovers. Mirabel was as successful in her career as a talent agent as Fabs was as a sales manager in the finance industry. He’d needed someone who knew her own mind and equalled him in confidence and independence.

Until a year ago, Rhys had been content with his career choice and having his own house that he’d grafted for; however, he couldn’t really say he was happy. There’d been moments of happiness, but sharing his life with someone and having a happy, loving relationship seemed out of his grasp. A bout of depression after Zoe had left had been the catalyst for making a change. It took all of his effort to be upbeat for his classroom of children – something that felt impossible to maintain outside of work, which was why taking a sabbatical had been necessary. Going to Sardinia for his best friend’s wedding would be the perfect way to start off in a positive way.

He didn’t have time to mull over things any further, not when Fabs bought another round of drinks and he and Barnaby re-joined some of the others at a table. Rhys sipped his lager and was content to listen, enjoying the gentler heat as the sun slid to the horizon, the river below a silvery ribbon as it snaked through the tree-clad gorge.

Freddie returned from the bar and chose the empty seat next to Rhys. His eyes shifted between him and his pint and he looked downright nervous, which was strange, when he was usually so ballsy, loud and a good laugh – he always had been. When they were students, he’d effortlessly stolen all the attention, even alongside Fabs, in a way that endeared people to him.

Freddie swigged his beer and cleared his throat. ‘Not really had a chance to talk to you yet this evening.’ He set his pint down, rolled up his T-shirt sleeves and clasped his hands around his biceps, which were toned from his daily workouts in the gym as a PT. Apart from Fabs and Zoe, Rhys knew Freddie better than anyone, which was why his frown and obvious discomfort was out of character. Freddie looked down. ‘But I, um… I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else, but me and Zoe, we’re, um, together.’

Rhys’s heart stilled.

‘Together. As in you’re going out with each other?’ he managed to utter. ‘Since when?’

‘Just a few months.’

‘A few months!’ Rhys’s grip tightened on his bottle of lager. ‘And you’re only telling me now?’ No wonder Zoe had kept her distance. ‘How did you even get together?’

‘We don’t live far from each other now, so we met up for drinks a few times. Things progressed.’ He shrugged. ‘I know it’s a bit weird as she’s your ex and all, but it’s been a year since you guys split. We all good?’

That was it? That was going to be the extent of the conversation? We’re together, have been for a while, hope you’re okay with it. Rhys wanted to rage and yell and tell him in no uncertain terms that of course it wasn’t all right that hisfriendand his ex were together, but instead he found himself saying lamely, ‘Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t we be?’

Freddie patted his shoulder. ‘That’s a relief; I’ve been shitting myself all evening, getting the nerve to tell you. You want another drink?’

At Rhys’s shake of the head, Freddie gave him another friendly thump on the shoulder and strode off towards the outside bar.

The friends surrounding Rhys became a blur, the conversations loud and muddled. He only caught snatches of words as his mind raced, Freddie’s blow having hit him harder than an actual punch to the gut. He needed to get away to clear his head and sort through the tangle of emotions.

The terrace was still bathed in sunshine and people were everywhere, making the most of the hot, dry August evening. Clutching his lager bottle, Rhys wound his way towards the inside bar.

‘Rhyster!’ Gareth said as they nearly collided into each other in the doorway. He flashed Rhys a grin and with his arms did Smithy’s ‘Gavlar’ movement fromGavin and Stacey. ‘Feels like old times tonight – fucking ace!’

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