The Boy I Loved Before

by Jenny Colgan

‘Bloody teenagers,’ said a woman loudly, passing by with a very large dog and a very small man. ‘Probably high on drugs.’

  ‘YYYYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAR-RRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!’

  That was better. I could feel my lungs opening up. I was in the world’s most ridiculous position. I was hurting pretty much all over. But I could still make a very loud noise.

  ‘AARRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’

  Tashy came running down the garden path. ‘Is that you making all that noise?’

  ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’

  ‘For goodness’ sake, be quiet.’

  ‘You’re sounding more and more like my evil elder sister every day.’

  ‘Ooh, get you, Avril Lavigne. What are you shouting for?’

  ‘’Cos everything’s fucked up.’

  She looked to the side. ‘Are you on drugs?’

  ‘Do we ever take drugs?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So why would I be taking drugs now as someone who would get immediately caught, killed, arrested or laughed at if I attempted to get my hands on anything?’

  ‘Well, you know what they say about schools these days.’

  ‘That’s right, Tashy, and if you don’t let me into the house right now I’m going to kill you with my Uzi, which I bought from a big kid at the gates with my lunch money, in order to get off my tits on drugs.’

  She didn’t immediately stand aside to let me pass, though.

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘Are you not talking to me? Have we officially fallen out somehow? Please say that’s not true. Something awful’s just happened at home, and—’

  ‘It’s not that.’

  I could hear voices from inside the house.

  ‘You’ve got people over?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said, raising my eyes to heaven. ‘I understand if you don’t want to invite a very precocious teenager to your dinner parties.’

  ‘It’s not that. It’s just … we were having a bit of a summit.’

  I looked up, and there, behind her, his hair messy and his shirt crumpled, looking tired, was Olly.

  ‘That man,’ I said, still a bit exhilarated from screeching my head off, ‘has an amazing habit of creeping up silently almost anywhere.’

  ‘Don’t let her in, would you, Tash?’ said Olly unhappily.

  ‘No. I’m sorry,’ I said, and, instantly, I was. ‘Please, let me in. Please, Tashy. I have nowhere else to go. My parents are fighting, and all I’ve done all day is drive everyone nuts. And I haven’t had the chance to apologise properly, to you, Olly. I’m so sorry. Please let me stay. Please.’

  Tashy looked at me. ‘You know, it’s not fair to make very small girl’s puppy eyes.’

  ‘It really fucking isn’t,’ came Olly’s voice behind her.

  ‘It’s either this or buying some chips and hanging around the bus stop,’ I said. ‘I might get carried away by all that White Lightning cider, and who knows what might happen?’

  ‘You come in, sit down, shut up and behave,’ said Tashy, standing aside. ‘We’re not happy with you.’

  ‘Yes, Brown Owl,’ I said meekly, and slipped inside.

  Olly and Tash hovered in the sitting room.

  ‘Can I have a beer?’ I said.

  ‘No!’ they said.

  ‘I think if you’re discussing me behind my back the Geneva Convention says I’m allowed a beer.’

  ‘Has she always been such a spoiled brat?’ asked Tashy to Ol.

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ said Oliver. ‘I just didn’t notice with all the wrinkles.’

  I let out a great big teenager’s sigh.

  Max came in to the room and stared at me.

  ‘Who are you?’

  He was looking tired and grumpy, and he thought his IT reputation meant he didn’t have to polish his social skills.

  ‘Hi, Max!’ I said cheerily.

  He turned on Tash. ‘What is this? Who is this? I can’t believe you’re still trying to—’

  ‘Max, it’s me. Flora. Don’t you remember? That time I lost your car keys, and the time I broke the glass and you stood in it, and …’

  He shook his head. ‘Tash, this is a crappy bloody joke.’

  ‘It’s not a joke,’ said Tash.

  ‘It’s not,’ said Olly, going to stand beside her.

  Max looked at us. ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re up to,’ he said, ‘but it’s really fucking unamusing.’ He stormed out.

  ‘Well, what should I tell him?’ said Tash.

  Olly patted her on the shoulder. ‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘What are we going to do with you?’ said Tashy to me.

  ‘I’m not a child!’

  ‘No, we know that. Technically. But there are lots of childish prohibitions on what you can and can’t do.’

  ‘I’m running away to New York and/or Paris,’ I said. To myself.

  ‘Don’t be sullen,’ said Tashy.

  ‘Why are you telling off that child?’ said Max. He’d paused at the door and was leaning on the radiator.

  ‘I’m not fucking telling her off, and if you’d listen to me for five seconds, you’d realise that.’

  ‘Do you have to swear quite so much when we have people in the house?’

  ‘Why not? It doesn’t seem to bother you when you’re shouting at Cherie Blair on the television.’

  ‘I believe in God, and the only thing that scares me is Cherie Blair.’

  ‘Do you hate all working women, Max, or just successful ones?’

  I looked at Olly. Christ, we were never this bad. He could clearly read what I was thinking, because he put his arms apart in an ‘I know!’ gesture.

  ‘Erm, there’s only three beers, Tashy … and … sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.’

  The black curly-haired head peering round the door was talking to Olly.

  ‘Oliver.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry,’ said Clelland. Then he caught sight of me and gasped.

  ‘Oh Christ.’ He took a step back. ‘It’s the wolverine.

  ‘Wolverine!’ I said. ‘Apart from the other day, I haven’t seen you in sixteen years and one reverse month, and you call me a wolverine!’

  Clelland moved cautiously into the room. Oliver was watching him closely. Clell moved over to me.

  ‘Oliver told me you were a wolverine. Also, I thought that by ridiculing you, you’d go back into the fiery pits of hell from whence you came,’ he said, trying to shoot me an apologetic grin and only succeeding in looking nervous. ‘I mean, what the fu—’

  ‘Does Clelland understand I didn’t die?’ I asked Tashy, who was still glowering at Max.

  ‘I can’t convince him,’ she said. ‘I can’t convince anyone of anything.’

  Max let out a long low sigh and disappeared.

  ‘Tell Clelland I’m not a wolverine,’ I ordered Olly.

  ‘Grrr,’ said Olly.

  Well, if Clelland was allowed to stare at me, I could stare back at him. His dark eyes were still as hooded and interesting as ever, even as obviously confused as he was now.

  ‘How’s Madeleine?’ I asked.

  He jumped backwards. ‘So you are a ghost,’ he said.

  Nobody said anything for a minute.

  ‘Erm, she’s fine, he said then. ‘Wants us to move to Africa permanently. Kind of missionary thing.’

  ‘Position?’

  ‘Job.’

  ‘OK,’ said Tashy. ‘Shall we sit down?’

  Everyone sat down carefully, except for me. I sat down cross-legged on the floor. Then I jumped up again, angry with myself.

  ‘OK,’ said Tashy. ‘We were just going to meet to discuss what’s happening in our – ahem – friend’s life. And also, in ours because of it.’

  ‘Without me here?’

  Olly looked at me. ‘Yes. You know, amazingly, we thought you might interrupt and be very intrusive.’

  ‘I thought you never wanted to speak to me again,’ I said.

&nb
sp; ‘Luckily that lasted almost nine hours.’

  ‘So,’ Tashy addressed me, ‘your mum and dad are younger than they were.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But they’re the only people who went back with you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And they don’t recognise you as ever having been any older?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘And neither do the teachers at school?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘But we do.’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘But nobody else?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘I asked my mum about her,’ said Olly. ‘She’d never heard of her.’

  ‘She never liked me,’ I said.

  ‘No, I mean – well, that’s true, she never liked you, but she really had no knowledge of your existence. Apparently I’ve never had a girlfriend called Flora.’

  ‘Why didn’t she like me?’

  ‘She thought you took me for granted. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, I think we’re the only people who know about you.’

  ‘That’s stupid,’ said Clelland. ‘I haven’t even seen her in … well, a long time.’

  ‘That’s because you’ve been off being a goody-goody in Africa,’ I said.

  ‘Ghost! Psychic ghost!’

  ‘I have a theory,’ said Tash. She took a deep breath and looked around sincerely. ‘OK. We’ve all known Flora for years, right?’

  There was a mutter of assent from Clelland and a deep groan from Olly. I remembered, again, meeting him that night in that noisy bar next to the law courts, when he was the only man gentlemanly enough to help me with my coat and buy me drinks. I’d thought he was so charming. He was. I looked at him, and he caught my eye, and I could tell he knew what I was thinking. He looked away. Pity was futile. Tash was still talking.

  ‘Well. OK, I’m not looking forward to saying this out loud. But it seems to me that the only people who can “see” Flora are the ones who’ve known her the best. For the longest. The people who love her. Her true friends, if you like.’ She gave a little laugh, embarrassed at having to use the expression ‘true friends’.

  I, though, was looking at Olly and Clelland, the two dearest men to me in the whole world, and Tash, my best friend.

  ‘What the hell am I doing in this picture?’ said Olly bitterly.

  Tash shrugged.

  ‘Hang on – is it right that I only have three true friends in the entire world, one of whom I’ve just dum—broken up with, and one I haven’t seen for a decade and a half because he’s been trying to find water for starving nations?’

  ‘Surely it’s much more sensible if we just assume she’s a ghost,’ said Clelland.

  ‘I mean—’

  ‘OK, OK, I’m sure that’s not it,’ said Tashy, looking at my downcast face. ‘It can’t be.’

  ‘Three!’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not it at all,’ said Tash. ‘If anything, maybe we’re the people you like the least.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll go for that,’ said Ol.

  ‘No! That’s worse!’

  Everyone was looking at me.

  ‘Have you tried anyone else in your address book?’ said Tash.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t exist and never has.’

  ‘OK, we’ll have to assume it’s just us then.’

  There was a pause while we all struggled to take this in.

  ‘Ignoring the pointlessness of that just for a moment,’ said Olly, ‘what are we going to do? I mean, there’s no point in taking you to a research base – nobody’s going to believe us.’

  ‘So, no living autopsy for me,’ I said. ‘Disappointed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Unless you could prove something that would happen in the future,’ said Tash.

  ‘As a lucky guess for two and a half weeks, mostly centring around highly predictable Big Brother evictions,’ I said.

  Clelland snapped his fingers. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’m going to take some photos.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Tashy said. ‘Because in the history of magazines, nobody’s ever done anything to a photograph to make anyone in it look younger.’

  ‘And I won’t be in it,’ said Olly. ‘Or if I have to be, I’m not smiling.’

  ‘You’re right – stupid idea. Hmm.’ He shrugged. ‘Okele Manoto,’ he said suddenly.

  ‘What?’ said Tashy.

  He looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘That came out prickish. It’s an African expression you hear a lot where I’ve been working. It means “take it as a gift”.’

  ‘It means what?’ said Olly.

  ‘Take it as a gift. Just let it happen and try and get the best from it. Well, I think that’s what it means. It might just mean: “crap, we’ve been shafted by international colluding governments again”.’

  ‘What do you think I should do?’ I asked Clelland, looking into his dark face. His features, now I could examine them again, were a lot more pronounced. He looked great as a man, much better than he had as a skinny boy.

  ‘Take it as a gift,’ he said. ‘I just said. Weren’t you listening?’

  ‘Oh,’ I said.

  ‘I’m teasing,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t anyone take the piss out of teenagers any more?’

  ‘Everyone does,’ I said. ‘We’re the scorned element of society.’

  ‘Poor little you,’ said Olly.

  ‘OK,’ said Clelland. ‘Here’s what I mean. You have the chance to do some things again, right?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And we think – well, this is what we were discussing before you came in …’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘ … that you might be caught in some sort of a loop. Because you’ve gone back in time. That when we get back to Tashy and Max’s wedding, something is going to have to happen there.’

  ‘I might meet myself,’ I said.

  ‘There’s that.’

  ‘There might be a collision of matter and anti-matter and you might die,’ said Olly.

  Tashy went over and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Ssh,’ she said.

  ‘I’m just saying,’ he complained. ‘It’s a possibility.’

  ‘Don’t frighten her.’

  ‘OK then. The wolverine might disappear and I might get the old Flora back,’ said Ol. ‘And I’ll get to chuck her. You’re right. I like that much better.’

  ‘Well, what I mean is …’ Clelland was tentative, and he must have known what I might be thinking of, however much he seemed to be pretending, in his new role as grown-up, that I was merely a paranormal phenomenon. ‘ … if there are some things you didn’t do first time round, some fun you didn’t have; do some good things you could have enjoyed.’

  I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say: what, all the things I missed when you went to Aberdeen?

  ‘Well, maybe this is the time to do them,’ Clelland finished. ‘You may only have a month.’

  He looked at me with his big grey eyes and I felt all funny inside. I noticed Olly darting him, and then me, suspicious glances.

  ‘Enjoy the fact that there’s no tomorrow, that’s what I mean. Because you’ve done this already. You’ve done the hard work. You’ve built a life. This is a holiday. Take it.’

  I noticed Tashy looking at Olly. She was patting him on the hand. She was a good friend to us.

  Chapter Ten

  The breakfast table was quiet. Too quiet. My mother and father were silently eating toast as I tentatively sat down. There was a long pause. Then my father coughed a little and cleared his throat.

  ‘Flora Jane,’ he said. If there’s anything more indicative of trouble ahead than your parents using your full name, I don’t know what it is.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said immediately. ‘I’m a mouthy teenager with no impulse control. I’m really, really sorry. Mum, I really am. I only went to a friend’s. I just needed to get out.’

  My mother didn’t even look up. Which was more like the mother I knew.

  ‘We�
��ve been talking about you,’ my dad said, which is hardly a surprise, as that’s all parents ever do. ‘And, we’ve decided … well, I think perhaps this family needs to do more as a family together.’

  The seething hypocrite! This family needed to do a little less secretary banging, all told.

  ‘So, erm, from now, I think we all have to make more of an effort. I’ll try and be home earlier.’

  Ooh, good.

  ‘And we’ll try and do more things as a family.’

  Ooh, not so good.

  ‘Flora Jane, I want to see more of an effort around here and I don’t want you out gallivanting at all hours of the day and night.’

  Getting seriously to the state of extremely ungood gallivanting was pretty much all I had left. And if Clelland was right about the time loop, I had rather a lot to fit into quite a small space of time.

  ‘And we’ll all help your mother a lot more. OK. Speech over.’

  ‘What would you do,’ I said, trying to sound jolly as Stanzi and I surreptitiously shared a Twix bar in Miss Syzlack’s class, ‘if you thought you might be scheduled to disappear or, um, die three weeks on Saturday?’

  I’d been thinking a lot about what Clelland had said: it made my brain want to jump out of my ears. The idea, though, of either bumping into myself or spontaneously combusting had a curiously unreal quality to it. Frankly, I was more depressed at the possibility of seeing my thirty-two-year-old self from the back than ceasing to exist, and, even, bringing the entire universe to an end in some kind of anti-matter paradox calamity.

  ‘I’d eat nothing but shortbread and offer myself up to Ethan,’ whispered Stanzi.

  ‘That’s quite useful,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Why? What is matter with you?’

  ‘Is there anything you two are saying that’s more important than Middlemarch?’ said Miss Syzlack.

  ‘Flora thinks she’s going to die, miss,’ said Stanzi helpfully.

  With typical school compassion, the rest of the class started pissing itself.

  ‘Die of what?’ said Miss Syzlack. ‘Too much talking, or too much detention?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I was just speculating. Like, er …’ It was years since I’d read Middlemarch. ‘ … That character that can’t have sex, ma’am.’

  ‘That’s enough,’ said Miss Syzlack, going pink.