Page 42 of One Night With You

Saturday can’t come soon enough. I wander over to the wardrobe and pull out a shirt, a T-shirt and some cord trousers. I lay everything out on the bed and send a photo to Jackson:Does this pass the Queer Eye test?I type.For Saturday.

He sends me the squirting water emoji, which I think means yes.

21

Ruby

They’ve found the family!a text bleets on my phone as I carry my morning coffee from Mick’s cart across campus. It’s from William. I call him immediately.

‘Talk fast!’ I say, excitedly. ‘Somebody knows who Amelie is?’

I’m walking up to the film studies department for the day, mentally planning what I need to pack for the weekend and still trying to decide how to play things with Nic. I think I’ve decided. I think that JP is right, and the heart is a muscle and I have to use it, and so if Nic’s there alone and hasn’t brought a date and wants a flirt and maybe that flirting leads to a snog … who’s to say I won’t enjoy it? Who’s to say it’s wrong? It’s not! I’m old enough to know the rarity of chemistry and young enough to say sod it. Again. Then I can get on the train home the next day and continue to slay everything with my course, with the doc and my creative development as good as ever. In fact, my art could even be betterfor living a little more, like Janet said back at my welcome meeting with her.

A woman can have it all, can’t she, as long as she promises not to lose who she is over a man this time? I need to practise doing that. A key part of the Year of Me needs to be understanding that I can trust myself, that just because I chose a terrible man once, it doesn’t mean I’ll do it again – and even if I do, I’ll survive. Look at Nic himself – he’s the very embodiment of how life is for living. And JP: seizing his chances at ninety-six! I’m going to be okay. The Year of Me is about fun inallthings. The celibacy rule can, like JP suggested, be bent. I won’t lose out on anything else. I am making a promise to myself to be okay containing multitudes.

As luck would have it, I see Harry approaching right as William is about to start talking. Campus is mostly deserted because it’s only just gone eight and most people don’t start trickling in until nine thirty or ten. It’s spooky how alike Harry and I are. He’s an early bird who likes to catch the worm too, making us a badass team that gets things done. I wave him over.

‘It’s William,’ I say urgently, turning the phone settings to speaker. ‘They’ve found Amelie!’ Then, to William I instruct: ‘Okay, Harry is here now, William. Go.’

‘Well, it was such a good idea to call the library,’ William says. I’m holding up the phone in the air so both Harry and I can lean towards it, ear-first, holding eager eye contact. ‘The librarian stuck our request to the books-out desk and somebody saw it, asked about it, and suggested she ask at the post office, because the husband of the woman who runs it is from a farming family, and a lot of the farmers know each other.’

‘Uh-huh,’ I say. ‘Okay.’

Harry pulls away, then, to get out his own phone, and starts recording. Clever man.

‘Sorry, William,’ I say. ‘Can you just repeat all that again? For the tape?’

William takes a breath and repeats it all a second time, for the benefit of the camera.

‘So did the family know anyone? I mean, they obviously did. But who?’

‘JP had got his directions wrong – the farm was east of the main town, by about twenty miles.’

‘Ah, JP said north.’

‘Well, luckily the village twenty milesnorthof the city had one person in it who had a box of old photos, and in that box of photos was another photo of Amelie, from twenty mileseast, at a local street party when the war ended, only this photo had her full name on it AND the name of the farm. Honestly, the chances of that all lining up … I can’t believe it. God bless French farmers with long memories and nosy natures.’

Harry and I look at each other, delighted. I almost don’t dare ask what I really want to know. But that’s going to be the decider. If Amelie is dead, the story ends here.

‘And she’s alive,’ William says, pre-empting my thoughts. ‘Amelie is alive.’

‘Oh, thank fuck,’ says Harry, smiling. ‘Oh, that’s amazing. I’ll bet JP is made up!’

‘He’s processing, I think. Amelie lives in Paris, now. Her second niece once removed, I think it is, is still local and was the one to connect the dots for us. I spoke to her this morning on the phone.’

‘Holy shit,’ I say. ‘All that happened this morning? It’s …’ I look at my watch. ‘Not even ten past eight!’

‘It was like pulling at a thread,’ William continues. ‘And now the whole mystery has unravelled. The only thing is, we don’t have a Paris address. Some falling-out in the family or something. But surely it can’t be that hard to find Amelie Renard? We’re closer than ever!’

‘Look,’ I say, chewing the inside of my cheek in a terrible habit of nervousness that I just can’t seem to stop. I’ve done it since I was a little girl. ‘We have class this morning, but are you both free at about one? We’ll come to you?’

‘See you then,’ says William, ringing off. ‘And hurry! This is the most exciting thing to ever have happened to me.’

‘Us too!’ Harry says. ‘I can’t believe we found her!’

‘I can,’ I say, gleefully. ‘Because everyone deserves a happy ending. And nobody more than JP.’

I barely take anything in during our activism and storytelling seminar, even though I’m normally on the edge of my seat taking notes and asking questions. Harry and I got coffee in the atrium and discussed what could happen next briefly, but we also had essays to finish so there’s still so much to say. I think about JP and Amelie the whole time. I wonder how he’s feeling – JP. Bless him. I’m nervous to see Nic tomorrow and it’s only been four months – not to mention the fact we’ve spoken on the phone, and texted every other day. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse, but the magnitude of waiting more than seventy years to see somebody who meant so much to him is growing on me. I don’t know if I could do it. Holding on to hope for a brave ten seconds in order to maintain eye contact or even lean in for a kiss can be agony – holding on to hope for more than seven decades? I’m surprised JP isn’t in physical pain.

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