Archie’s parents. He was dreading seeing them.
Jay was drumming on the dashboard, beating his fingers along to Counting Crows. The music defined them. They’d been to see them so many times over the years. Every song reminded Archie of the road trips they’d spent together, the fun they’d had. He felt a lump in his throat. He stared at the road ahead as it snaked its way towards the next village.
Jay suddenly turned the music down.
‘You’ve got to promise me one thing,’ he said. ‘If I don’t make it.’
‘You’re going to make it,’ Archie told him firmly.
Jay looked at the horizon for a moment. Winter was just starting to soften into spring: buds and shoots were springing in the fields and hedgerows.
‘Yeah, well, if I don’t, you’re not to hole up in that cottage of yours. I know what you’re like.’
‘What? What am I like?’ Archie felt indignant. It was true that he wasn’t as much of a party animal as Jay – given the choice between a quiet night in and a wild night out, he was quite content with the former – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself.
‘I have to prise you off that sofa sometimes and drag you out of the house kicking and screaming—’
‘No, you don’t. I’m just happier with my own company than you are.’
‘I’m worried you won’t budge without me to give you a kick up the arse. That you’ll become a recluse.’
‘Don’t be daft. I can get myself out there. Anyway, I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation.’
Archie flicked a glance sideways at Jay. Jay was staring at the road ahead.
‘There’s something else.’
Archie’s heart jumped. ‘What?’
He looked at Jay again. There was a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
‘That jumper? The one with the holes?’
‘My blue one?’ Archie affected an injured air. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s got to go.’
‘I love that jumper.’
‘You’re never going to pull wearing it.’
‘It’s comfy. I feel comfy in it.’
‘If I die knowing I’ve left you to roam the earth in that jumper, I won’t have done my job properly. As your best mate, I’ve got to be the one to tell you . . .’
Archie didn’t speak for a moment. It was the first time either of them had actually mentioned the possibility of Jay dying. He decided to follow Jay’s lead and keep it light. Now wasn’t the time for a deep philosophical discussion.
‘If it makes you happy, I’ll stick it in the dogs’ basket. Sid and Nancy can sleep on it.’ He thumped him on the arm affectionately. ‘You win. OK?’
‘Good.’ Jay nodded, satisfied. ‘And while I think about it, I entered you in that magazine competition. If you win, you’ve got to promise me to go.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.’
‘Even if you’re lambing, or haymaking . . . I know you. Any excuse.’
Whatever the competition was, Archie was certain he wouldn’t win. He’d never won anything in his life.
‘Course,’ he laughed. ‘I promise.’
Jay turned the music back up.
‘Good.’
Nothing more was said.
Archie dropped the car down a gear and took the next corner at a terrifying speed. Fear was making him reckless. Fear of the terrible thing he felt certain was coming? He wasn’t at all sure how he was going to face it.
Face it he did, for that was in Archie’s nature.
Three weeks later, he stood in front of the altar at St Mary’s, the tiny little church where both he and Jay had been christened, and had seen through any number of carol services and midnight masses and Easter Sundays over the years. He didn’t need notes during his eulogy. He didn’t need anything to remind him of what his friend had meant to him. Jay, who had been so alive and vibrant and immediate, and was now lying as still as stone in a coffin made of elm. For a fleeting moment, Archie wondered if the undertaker had remembered to put in the list of things Jay’s family had agreed he couldn’t be without, the things
Jay was drumming on the dashboard, beating his fingers along to Counting Crows. The music defined them. They’d been to see them so many times over the years. Every song reminded Archie of the road trips they’d spent together, the fun they’d had. He felt a lump in his throat. He stared at the road ahead as it snaked its way towards the next village.
Jay suddenly turned the music down.
‘You’ve got to promise me one thing,’ he said. ‘If I don’t make it.’
‘You’re going to make it,’ Archie told him firmly.
Jay looked at the horizon for a moment. Winter was just starting to soften into spring: buds and shoots were springing in the fields and hedgerows.
‘Yeah, well, if I don’t, you’re not to hole up in that cottage of yours. I know what you’re like.’
‘What? What am I like?’ Archie felt indignant. It was true that he wasn’t as much of a party animal as Jay – given the choice between a quiet night in and a wild night out, he was quite content with the former – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself.
‘I have to prise you off that sofa sometimes and drag you out of the house kicking and screaming—’
‘No, you don’t. I’m just happier with my own company than you are.’
‘I’m worried you won’t budge without me to give you a kick up the arse. That you’ll become a recluse.’
‘Don’t be daft. I can get myself out there. Anyway, I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation.’
Archie flicked a glance sideways at Jay. Jay was staring at the road ahead.
‘There’s something else.’
Archie’s heart jumped. ‘What?’
He looked at Jay again. There was a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
‘That jumper? The one with the holes?’
‘My blue one?’ Archie affected an injured air. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s got to go.’
‘I love that jumper.’
‘You’re never going to pull wearing it.’
‘It’s comfy. I feel comfy in it.’
‘If I die knowing I’ve left you to roam the earth in that jumper, I won’t have done my job properly. As your best mate, I’ve got to be the one to tell you . . .’
Archie didn’t speak for a moment. It was the first time either of them had actually mentioned the possibility of Jay dying. He decided to follow Jay’s lead and keep it light. Now wasn’t the time for a deep philosophical discussion.
‘If it makes you happy, I’ll stick it in the dogs’ basket. Sid and Nancy can sleep on it.’ He thumped him on the arm affectionately. ‘You win. OK?’
‘Good.’ Jay nodded, satisfied. ‘And while I think about it, I entered you in that magazine competition. If you win, you’ve got to promise me to go.’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.’
‘Even if you’re lambing, or haymaking . . . I know you. Any excuse.’
Whatever the competition was, Archie was certain he wouldn’t win. He’d never won anything in his life.
‘Course,’ he laughed. ‘I promise.’
Jay turned the music back up.
‘Good.’
Nothing more was said.
Archie dropped the car down a gear and took the next corner at a terrifying speed. Fear was making him reckless. Fear of the terrible thing he felt certain was coming? He wasn’t at all sure how he was going to face it.
Face it he did, for that was in Archie’s nature.
Three weeks later, he stood in front of the altar at St Mary’s, the tiny little church where both he and Jay had been christened, and had seen through any number of carol services and midnight masses and Easter Sundays over the years. He didn’t need notes during his eulogy. He didn’t need anything to remind him of what his friend had meant to him. Jay, who had been so alive and vibrant and immediate, and was now lying as still as stone in a coffin made of elm. For a fleeting moment, Archie wondered if the undertaker had remembered to put in the list of things Jay’s family had agreed he couldn’t be without, the things
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