An Impossible Thing Called Love

‘Hey, you,’ I said. ‘What’d you get up to today?’

I’d woken to a note pinned on the underside of the bunk above me. Today was a free day, a keep yourself entertained type day, and my friends had disappeared early, along with everyone else. After my efforts last night, I was happy to enjoy the solitary sleep in, especially if I got the bathroom to myself without fighting anyone. Checking that I was mostly bruise-free, if a little sore still, I spent the day alone – something refreshing after weeks cooped up in the constant presence of other travellers.

Heather rattled off her day’s itinerary, the old monuments, museums, and back alley adventures. Josh, the avid walker he was, had trekked them up Arthur’s Seat before taking her out for a haggis lunch afterwards.

A traditional Scottish band soared to life on the stage ahead.

I’d spent my day meandering around the city centre, taking the stroll from our hostel into the city, and stopping at a chocolate shop for a rich hot chocolate topped with chocolate whipped cream. It was the perfect refresher as I made my way through cobblestone streets and uber green parks.

Cheap souvenirs were about all I could afford, and that was fine, because they were a sight to behold. Kilted sheep, ashtrays, and miles of thistle themed items kept even the most astute traveller happy judging by the sheer swarm of people in each of the stores dotted along the Royal Mile. My sister was getting a thistle stamped coffee cup, just because she could be a bit 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 wallet was held aloft like contraband. ‘But you’ve got money. And a condom, you liar.’

‘Oh, no, no.’ I waved my hands. ‘No, I don’t need money, it’s fine. And I certainly don’t need Josh’s contraceptives.’

He tutted. ‘It’s not like it’s been used, Em.’

‘Yes, money.’ Heather dug about in the wallet, scolding Josh for earlier saying he was broke. ‘In case you need to get home or call one of us.’

‘No, really, it’s okay.’

‘Emmy.’ She shoved a few small notes in my hand. ‘Take it.’

I accepted her offer with a reluctant sigh. ‘Alright, okay. Are you sure, Josh?’

‘Yeah, it’s fine.’ He shrugged. ‘Go for it.’

‘Call or message every half hour, or hour, or something.’ Her eyes were wide, the space between her brows wrinkled. ‘Please? Just let me know you’re alright.’

I nodded. ‘I will, thank you. I’ll see you both later. You guys call if you need me, too.’

‘Alright, Miss Medicine, what gives?’ William slid a glass across the table. Condensation rolled over itself, forming a ring on the small wooden table. He dropped into the chair opposite and clutched his hands in his lap.

After squeezing our way out of the Ceilidh, chins buried in necklines and hands deep in pockets, we’d strolled past Princes Street and its rainbow coloured carnival to a tiny laneway. Greeted by foggy leadlight windows and a swinging light, it looked like the best option for keeping warm. A spare table by the window was a bonus.

‘Flunked the interview.’

He winced. ‘Tough.’

‘Other pathways, right?’ I said, drawing back quickly from the drink, hands across my mouth. ‘What the … is that chilli?’

‘Cayenne pepper.’

‘In a drink?’

‘I’ll have you know it’s a cocktail named The Fighter.’

‘The what?’ I laughed. ‘I was not fighting.’

‘Eh, I don’t know, Emmy.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You might’ve been.’

‘I wasn’t,’ I stressed. ‘I was trying to get Josh out of the way.’

‘Yeah, you should’ve left him alone.’

I sighed. ‘I know that now.’

‘So, you love blood and gore, do you?’ William’s eyes widened. ‘You bloodthirsty woman, you.’

‘What is it with that question?’ I asked, almost pleading. ‘Oh, you want to do medicine, Emmy, very noble. Must love guts and gore, huh, girlie?’

‘Yes, yes, you’re quite right,’ William played. ‘It’s not that I want to do something good in the world. It’s actually that I love nothing more than stuffing someone’s intestines back into them. Quite like black pudding, really.’

‘Or—’ I shucked my jacket off and held my hand up ‘—or, or, why don’t you just be a nurse, that’d be a nice job for a girl.’

William gasped. ‘They did not.’

‘That was my very un-PC grandma,’ I said. ‘Right before she told me I should just marry and have some children before I fill out too much.’

‘Grandma, get back to the home.’

‘Funny you should say that, she went into one this year.’

‘Oh, shit, talk about foot in mouth. I am so sorry.’ Even as he said it, he struggled to contain a wicked laugh.

‘No, it’s fine,’ I assured him. ‘She’s, like, four hundred and seventy-three. It was time. It was that or let her burn her house down with her still inside it. This is the lesser of two evils.’

‘Maybe you can go work in the nursing home. Make Nana a cup of tea.’

‘I did think about it,’ I said. ‘I might yet, but I have submitted to the nagging of my parents and enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts, so let’s see if I can segue into medicine that way.’

‘A degree earned in eight years instead of four is still a degree. Remember that,’ he said with pointed finger.

‘The disappointment from my parents was palpable when I told them I hadn’t made it.’ I leant forward into the table, chin in the palm of my hand. ‘How could you get this far, Emmy? How could you?’

‘We’re not angry.’ William took a large sip and frowned so hard I thought his eyebrows would slip off onto pouted lips. ‘We’re just disappointed.’

‘Oh my God, yes.’ I threw my head back. ‘Does that come in the parental starter pack? Like, here’s your new baby, and here’s the phrases you can use for life. Maximum impact, minimal responsibility.’

‘If it makes you feel better, my parents’ disappointment lay in the fact I skipped architecture in favour of medicine. “William, your father and grandfather have a long legacy in architecture. We were so hoping you would carry that into the next generation.”.’ William screwed his face up. ‘The extent of my architectural ambition lies in the bottom of a box of Lego. I can’t even draw a potato without fucking it up.’

I laughed loudly and freely, glad for the company and quick wit. Soon, our smiles grew wider, as if we’d received confirmation of something special. Around us, tables emptied and filled up over again, the clash of cutlery and loud chatter eventually dying out to a late-night dull murmur.

‘So, I’ve just bought a place in London.’ William glanced around for the barkeep. Business had been slow enough for the last little while that he’d taken to bringing drinks to us.

‘I thought you lived here?’ I stabbed the table with a finger.

‘Here? No. My grandparents on Dad’s side are Scottish,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I’m only as exotic as central London.’

For the first time tonight, I reached out and touched him, tugging at hair by his ear. ‘I was wondering where this came from.’

‘And it’s not even some weird genetic throwback. My father has also been touched with the ginger tinge. My sister got out of it by being blonde like Mum.’ He gathered his phone and wallet. ‘But I did study here. Actually, do you want to get out of here? I can show you some of the sights if you like?’

‘Oh! Yes! That would be amazing. You know the area well?’ I was up and ready before he had so much as a chance to continue.

‘I know where to get hot coffee and jam doughnuts on New Year’s Eve.’ He stood. ‘Welcome to William’s Rad Edinburgh Tours.’

‘Are they rated five-star? I’ll have you know I cannot possibly lower my standards after the holiday I’ve had. Farting boys and vomit-stained shoes, infidelity-inspired fights, and cheap souvenirs are nothing to sniff at.’

‘Well, then, aren’t you in for a surprise?’ He held the door open for me and we slipped out into the night.

Traipsing bitterly cold streets, I was ushered around to ancient buildings and seedy looking alleys. Each cobblestoned street unearthed pieces of Edinburgh’s medically related history and, through it all, I got to watch this incredible man shine like a beacon of unwavering knowledge. Not only did he talk with passion, he was completely unabashed about it. He was wonky, angular, and his smile was lopsided, but I’d raced so far down the rabbit hole I couldn’t see sunlight anymore.

‘So, this is the Royal College of Physicians.’ William gave his best game show wave. ‘Unfortunately, we can’t get in. I think it’s a little like Hogwarts, you need a special letter or some shit, but this was established in the late 1600s. Not on this site, somewhere else. This one has been here since—’

‘Where do you store all this information?’ I asked.

‘Hey?’

‘Where do you keep it all?’

‘I did my undergrad in Edinburgh, so … a bit of time to ponder this stuff. Also, I just love it.’ He ended with a wiggle of his head.

‘I love that you love it.’

‘Oh!’ He snapped his fingers excitedly. ‘Let me take you to the School of Medicine for Women. You’ll like that, it’s back near the castle.’

Moments later, just as we’d turned into the next street, popping sounds filled the air. The same kind of popping sounds you would expect when you were on the wrong side of the best view of the fireworks. William pushed his sleeve back, face wrought with concern.

‘Shit. We’re late.’ He looked at me. ‘Emmy, I am so sorry.’

‘Why are you sorry?’ I asked.

William’s face fell. He sputtered something about me spending money on a trip, and airfares, time versus money and, well, he thought he’d ruined it all. In the distance, ripples of colour reflected in the sky above buildings.

‘So, I missed some fireworks.’ I shrugged. ‘Know what the best part about that is?’

‘What?’ he asked.

‘You.’

‘Me?’

‘I can see fireworks anywhere. I can even come back for Hogmanay any time. I’m here for an experience and this, this is an experience.’

My phone buzzed. Not for the first time tonight, Heather was urging me to get down there, down to the front of the queue, and enjoy what we’d come for: the castle, the fireworks, the party atmosphere. I had it all here, and I told her so in my text back. I’d meet them back at the hostel. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and focused my attention on William again.

We did make it back to the castle, eventually, going by way of more old buildings and stories. It was late, but we ran on nothing more than the excitement of finding someone who picked up on small cues, banter, and that unmistakable wild humour. I kept him entertained with stories accumulated on my travels, while he filled me in on his trip up here. We laughed at the shared frustration of trying to find the best pastry in Paris, and how he had more of a chance to search now his parents had moved to the city so his father could teach at some fancy design school.

It kept us going all the way back to my hostel, somewhere in the wee hours of the morning.

My stomach sank like a boulder in a river. In the back of my mind, this moment had been coming all night, but I was not ready to let go. Outside my hostel, we stood about at odds for a moment, until I reached for him.

I drew my hands up into his hair and pulled his head towards me. I brushed wayward curls from his forehead and kissed him gently. He smelt of beer, chilled air, and the best night I had ever had.

‘You are incredible. Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different.’ My voice choked up. ‘Thank you for the most amazing time.’

His hands curled around my wrists, his nose rubbing against mine. It still panged a little, but I couldn’t care. ‘Likewise. Don’t go getting into any more fights.’

‘Promise.’ I smiled. ‘You are the best holiday souvenir ever,’ I whispered as he leant in and kissed the side of my mouth. Innocent enough to say thank you, close enough to make me want more. I took a shaking breath in.

‘Even better, I fulfil the cheap and tacky criteria, too.’ He grinned proudly.

A snotty laugh rose to the surface as I let go of his jacket and of him. He skipped off into the night, stopping on the opposite kerb to curtsey and blow a kiss. I rubbed stray tears away as I laughed and waved hopelessly.

It didn’t matter that I’d known him for no more than a single day. In my heart, I’d known him forever. The fact he was now gone only left an aching hollow in its place. A dark, rattly space only he could fill. I could bite back tears all I liked but, when it hit me that I’d not so much as got a phone number, I took off in pursuit.

I crossed the street and disappeared into the small alley that had stolen him from me. Nothing but the echo of my footsteps and a rolling fog followed me. It had barely been minutes, but he’d vanished into the night.

‘William!’ I called. My heart gave a panicked throb.

Nothing.

A misty hotel sign at the opposite end of the street beckoned me closer. My steps got quicker the closer I got. A lone motorcycle was parked up by the front door, and the waiting area was still strikingly busy. If I’d raced to the reception desk any quicker, I’d have got an Olympic medal for walking.

‘Did you…’ I heaved breathlessly and clutched at the counter. ‘Did a lanky guy just walk in here? About yay high? Fiery red hair?’

The bored concierge looked up from her magazine and threw me a smug look. ‘A guy with red hair in Edinburgh. What are the odds?’

‘Please?’ I pleaded. ‘My height, beautiful blue eyes, dark coat a, ah, a scarf. Did you see him?’

‘Miss, there have been about fifty people walk in here in the last ten minutes alone.’

‘His name is William.’ I reached across the counter, pointing at the archaic paper booking system. ‘Is he here? Can you call him? I need to see him.’

With a heavy sigh, my not-so-friendly concierge scrolled down the name of bookings. ‘There’s no one here by that name. He might be staying with another guest. I don’t know.’

I could feel my body shrink back into itself and the heels of my feet sank to the floor. He was long gone, and she wasn’t checking again. Accepting defeat, I nodded, rubbed away a frustrated tear, and saw myself out.

Finding him was tantamount to finding a needle in a haystack.

And with that, William was just another memory.

Chapter 3

As I stared aimlessly at the shelves of books before me, I couldn’t decide if I wanted a biography, some new-fangled self-help title from a washed-up celebrity, or the ‘hottest’ novel of the month. I placed all three options back on the shelf and continue browsing.

The thought of leaving had my stomach all twisted in knots, and it wasn’t just because I’d fallen head over heels in love with Europe, but more to do with a certain redhead with piercing blue eyes and a lopsided smile I’d left back in Edinburgh. It’d been almost a full week since we’d said goodbye to the Scottish capital via the rugged Highlands, and it had all passed in a blur of castles and lochs.

‘Have you got what you want?’ Heather idled up beside me, the colours washed out of her hair in favour of her natural mousy brown. She sipped slowly at a can of soft drink and twisted her foot around. ‘There’s a pub down the other end. Want a drink? Josh’s saved us a table.’

‘Sure, sounds great,’ I replied distractedly, flicking through a copy of Empire. With a sigh, Heather took the magazine from my hands, replaced it on the stacks and lead me out of the shop.

‘Come on misery guts, you can pine for him over a drink.’ We skirted past more souvenir shops, Heather stopping me to marvel at suits in the window of a menswear shop, and found Josh breaking off another row of Galaxy and lamenting that we couldn’t get it back home.

‘My shout.’ I pulled my purse out, aware that I had been a wee bit of a Debbie Downer lately. ‘What do you want?’

‘Cider,’ they answered in unison.

‘You two,’ I teased, making my way over to the bar, my gaze wandering around the terminal as I waited for someone to serve me.

Airport terminals were funny places. Time seemed to stand still; ten o’clock in the morning was deemed a respectable hour to drink, mostly because clocks seemed to be hidden. Businesswomen in Ugg boots shopped for perfume and businessmen for alcohol and overpriced shirts. I smiled to myself as a man in the café across the way, with a shock of red hair, fumbled to organise a clothes hanger, carry on suitcase and a coffee cup all at the same time.

I straightened. My head spun so fast I could have been in a Seventies horror film.

‘William!’ I all but shouted his name across the bar. He looked up, head cocked to the side in that way when someone calls your name but you’re not entirely sure that you’ve heard. Though I could see him through the angles of the bar, he clearly couldn’t see me.

I darted towards him, a sense of elation building up in my chest. ‘William!’

He turned again, this time his eyes catching mine. They widened with surprise as he put two and two together, connected the dots, and coloured between the lines.