The Day We Meet Again - Miranda Dickinson

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now. Maybe, if it all works out and she’s waiting for me next year, I’ll take her to meet the old crew. I think they’d like her.

       Chapter Seven, Phoebe

      I’m going the wrong way.

      I shouldn’t be going to France. I should be going with you.

      And I know we talked about it, and I accepted everything we said about being true to ourselves first, about testing how we feel to be sure. But I wish I hadn’t agreed now.

      I was so certain this was what I wanted, but… Then you happened.

      Sam. My Sam.

      I watch the blur of fields and green sidings passing the window and can’t hide my smile. How did my life change in just one morning?

      And that kiss. I don’t think I’ve ever been floored by a kiss before.

      I feel like we’ve shared an entire relationship in a few short hours. How is that even possible?

      Last night, when my nerves were tumultuous as a storm, threatening to break over my head and sweep me away completely, I felt like I was teetering on the edge of the world. I don’t think I’ve ever felt as alone as I did at 2 a.m. when I was close to calling the whole thing off.

      I don’t feel alone now.

      Because even though we are fast moving away from one another in opposite directions, you’re with me, Sam. I have the memory of you all over me. The whisper of your kiss still playing on my lips, the shiver of your touch still tingling on my skin. And this year will pass because every second is one closer to the day we meet again. When all our hurried promises will find space and time to be fulfilled. When I can feel your skin on mine and never let you go…

      My phone buzzes on the table in front of me and I see my best friend Meg’s grin illuminating the screen. Packing my thoughts of Sam away, I answer the call.

      ‘Phee, hey! Are you okay? I just saw on the news about them closing St Pancras and King’s Cross.’

      ‘It’s okay. I’m on the train. Not sure how good reception’s going to be so don’t worry if I disappear.’

      ‘Do you have WiFi?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Hang up and I’ll call you back on Skype.’

      Thirty seconds later her image appears again and I accept the call. ‘So what happened?’

      ‘I still don’t know. But I’m moving now, so that’s all that matters.’ I suddenly remember the arrangement I’d made for the end of my journey today. In the whirlwind of Sam it was lost. ‘Oh, Meg, Tobi doesn’t know! I’m so sorry! In all the confusion I forgot to call him.’ I didn’t look at my phone, that is. Not once. Another startling change in my life I can thank Sam for.

      ‘Relax, I just spoke to him. He says he’ll come and meet you at Gare du Nord when you get in.’

      ‘But the delay – he’ll end up having wasted his entire day waiting for me. I can’t ask him to do that. I’ll just get a cab or walk when I get there.’

      Meg’s chuckle is bright and familiar and suddenly I’m homesick. ‘Then you don’t know him yet. He insisted. Luc might be with him, too.’

      I first met Tobi when we hung out after one of Gabe’s press screenings for Southside, the hit primetime crime drama he had a supporting role in. Tobi had the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard. He was sweet, though, and Meg adores him, which is the best recommendation you can get. He was the first to suggest I stay with him in Paris when Meg told him of my travel plan, which was the kindest gesture anyone’s made for me. Meg visits him several times a year and was best woman when he and Luc married last spring at an achingly gorgeous turreted chateau in the Pyrenees. I haven’t met Luc yet, but he sounds lovely, too.

      ‘I’m due into Paris at three-twenty p.m., I think.’

      ‘He’ll be waiting for you by the barrier. He’s making a sign, bless him, in case you don’t remember what he looks like.’

      ‘That’s sweet.’

      There’s a pause, then: ‘Phoebe, are you okay?’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      ‘Okay. It’s just, you sound… different.’

      Do I?

      ‘I’m on a train, so…’

      ‘It isn’t that.’

      ‘Oh.’ Do I tell her about Sam? Meg is my closest, dearest friend and she would understand. No – it feels too soon. I like him being just mine for now. Maybe I’ll tell her later.

      ‘Don’t worry. Probably just me being over-protective. We’re all a bit lost without you here. Gabe found your key on the doormat this morning and went off in a total grump. He’ll get over it, though. We all will. Have a safe journey and call me when you’re settled in, okay?’

      I sit back and gaze out of the window, waiting for the tunnel that will spirit me away from England for twelve months. Well, good if they’re missing me. They didn’t think I’d go through with this – and despite all the odds, here I am.

       Chapter Eight, Sam

      Settled onto the Glasgow train after two quick changes at Sheffield and Manchester, I must have dozed off because I jump when my mobile rings, cracking my forehead against the carriage window in the process. The woman in the seat opposite is kind enough to hide her amusement behind her magazine.

      Smooth, Sam. Very smooth.

      The sight of my two best friends pouting at me from the screen makes me smile regardless of the injury their call has caused.

      ‘Hey,’ I say, resting back into my seat. Beyond the window a landscape of purple-crowned Cumbrian peaks stretches out beneath lead grey clouds.

      ‘What happened?’ DeeDee demands. ‘Kim and me saw the news. Was it a bomb?’

      ‘No idea. Nobody seemed that bothered so I’m guessing not.’

      I can hear Kim in the background and picture her, hands on hips, barking questions at DeeDee. ‘I’m asking him… Kim wants to know if you got a train.’

      ‘On it now. Just heading through the Lakes. Tell Kim it looks like rain here.’

      Another off-speaker discussion ensues, followed by an angst-heavy sigh. ‘Okay, look, why don’t you just tell him yourself, hmm? Sam, putting you on speaker so Miss Kim can yell at you instead.’

      ‘Hi, Kim.’ I can’t hide my smile. They are such a double-act and always appear to be three words away from a row, but it’s all love as far as they’re concerned. They aren’t related but they’ve sung together in bands for so long they might as well be family. It’s spine-tingling stuff when DeeDee and Kim sing, like they’ve developed a magical symbiosis that they just couldn’t recreate with anyone else. But not so much when they’re arguing.

      ‘Samuel. We heard it was a terror alert.’

      ‘I don’t think so. They would have evacuated the station if it had been. Anyway, I’m fine. I’m on the train now.’

      ‘Do

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