Stand By Me. S.D. Robertson
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‘Thank you.’
‘Sugar?’ Will asked, opening his palm to reveal some sachets.
‘No, thanks.’
Will, who hadn’t brought a drink for himself, seemed happy to watch him sip the tea in silence. Meanwhile, he scrutinised him with his blue eyes, occasionally running a hand through his thick grey hair. Only when the mug was half empty did Will ask him if he felt more clearheaded.
‘Yes.’ The tea really seemed to have helped. He’d even stopped tapping his fingers and bouncing his leg up and down.
‘Good. You’ve probably got a few questions.’
And of course he did, starting with where he was and how he’d got there.
It was a huge amount to take in, even though some of it was as he’d suspected or remembered. It was devastating and yet also strangely calming. For if the worst thing imaginable had already happened, what else was there to fear?
The last thing he expected was to be presented with a proposal. His unique circumstances and the transitory nature of his current position meant he could help with something, Will explained at length.
‘Is this for real?’ he asked eventually, still absorbing the details. It involved a person who meant a great deal to him – who he’d love nothing more than to help – and an incredible, impossible chance to return to the world he’d thought lost forever only moments ago.
Will responded with a solemn nod. ‘Yes, and so you know, it’s a rare privilege that you’re being offered here. But it will only be for a short time – probably a matter of days.’
‘What do I have to do? How does it work exactly? How would I even get there?’
‘Give me the word and I’ll take care of the details.’
‘It’s that straightforward?’
‘From your perspective, yes. The situation you’d face there is … complex, but we’d provide you with all the necessary information.’
A wave of nervous excitement washed over him. His bouncing leg started up again, vibrating the remaining tea in his mug, as he gave Will his answer. ‘I’m in.’
Friday, 20 July 2018
Lisa approached the front door, expecting an immediate verbal assault from her husband. She was poised to drag him inside, if necessary, to avoid sharing their inevitable row with the whole neighbourhood. And she was well prepared to fight her corner: to take on his drunken logic in a bid to explain her extreme actions.
She must have cut a strange figure in her dressing gown and smudged make-up when she jerked open the door like a lioness primed to defend her cubs – only to find it wasn’t Mike at all.
A good-looking man in smart jeans and a red polo shirt stared back at her, illuminated by the motion-sensor light on the front of the house. He appeared startled, although that was hardly surprising considering her sudden, violent entrance. ‘Lisa?’ he asked, his big, deep blue eyes scanning her up and down.
‘Who’s asking?’
The man, who looked vaguely familiar, gave her a playful grin, showing off a perfect set of white teeth. ‘That would be telling, wouldn’t it?’
This was an odd answer and he had a strange accent to match, which Lisa couldn’t put her finger on. There was definitely some local in there, but mixed in with something else. It reminded her of that mid-Atlantic twang that US-based British actors sometimes adopted. But that wasn’t it either. Scandinavian? No, she didn’t think so. She’d need to hear him speak some more to work it out.
Wherever he was from – and whatever he wanted – Lisa’s immediate temptation was to give him short shrift, based on the fact it was late on a Friday night to be showing up unannounced. But seeing him standing there on her doorstep, all tanned and muscular with closely cropped dark hair and a chiselled jawline, she hesitated. Could he be someone she recognised off the TV? She found herself looking behind him for a cameraman, but if there was one, he was well hidden.
‘You don’t recognise me, do you?’ he said. ‘That’s understandable. It’s been a long time. I wasn’t totally sure it was you straight away, what with the blonde hair and all, but now I see it. Those gorgeous hazel eyes of yours haven’t changed one bit. Come on, Lisa, have a guess.’
Then the penny dropped and her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. ‘No, it can’t be!’
‘Yes, it can.’
‘But I was just thinking about …’
‘Go on.’
‘Oh my God. Is that really you, El? You’re so different.’
Her friend beamed a warm smile at her. ‘Same old me on the inside. Now come here and give me a hug.’ He held his arms wide open and, a moment later, Lisa found herself lost in his warm embrace, her troubles temporarily forgotten as her mind flew back to the last time they’d been together.
Tears were streaming down her face, although she’d been determined not to cry any more. Elliot was tearful too and she knew from the tender look in his eyes how touched he was that she’d made the trip.
They’d done this already the night before. He’d called around at her house and stayed for tea one final time. They’d spent ages chatting in her bedroom, focusing as much as possible on the excitement of their respective futures, rather than the obvious negative of them being apart. And then suddenly – far too soon – it was time for him to go. They’d said goodbye then, amid the obvious hugs, kisses, tears and promises to keep in touch. But it hadn’t been enough and, after an awful night of barely sleeping, Lisa had found herself knocking on her parent’s door at 5.30 a.m., begging to borrow the car to drive to the airport.
‘I need to see him one last time,’ she’d bawled. ‘I can’t bear it if I don’t.’
Her mum had taken pity on her. Not wanting Lisa to make the journey alone, as a new driver in an emotional state, Christine had agreed to take the wheel, despite her husband’s tired groans that it was ridiculous. They’d made it in the nick of time, with an out-of-breath Lisa catching up to Elliot right before he and his mother disappeared through security into the departures lounge.
‘Is everything okay?’ Elliot asked, his face a cocktail of surprise, confusion and affection.
‘Don’t worry,’ Lisa said, looking at Wendy, his mother. ‘I’m not here to try and change his mind, but I had to say goodbye one more time.’
And so she did. They only got a few extra minutes together, but Lisa didn’t regret going there for an instant. Before Elliot finally left on his one-way trip to the other side of the globe, she wanted him to know exactly how important he was to her; how much she’d miss him being around.
‘Don’t forget me.’ That was the last thing she’d whispered in his ear as their wet cheeks pressed together and Wendy’s voice softly insisted that they really had to go.
‘Never,’ he replied. ‘How could I forget the girl who saved my life?’
And then she watched her best friend leave.
How had twenty years passed since that moment? So much had happened in Lisa’s life since then. But the astonishment of seeing Elliot now – feeling his arms around her again – washed away the passage of time, so it felt only a heartbeat ago.
‘When did you get so big and strong, El?’ she asked as she stood back from their embrace and looked him up and down, marvelling