Taking a deep breath, I put my hand to the door. “Right, here goes nothing. Wish me luck!”
“You’ll be fine, John. Just be yourself.”
“I don’t think ‘stone cold killer’ is what I’m aiming for.” Glancing at her, her face had dropped. “I’m joking, Emily. I’ll be friendly.”
“See you tomorrow. I want to hear everything, particularly if… you know…”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Sliding out of the car, I closed the door before she waited a few seconds and pulled away, tooting the horn and lifting her hand out of the car to wave. Crossing the street, I recognised a few glances in my direction already from a couple of people having a smoke outside the entrance to the hotel. I nodded at them, cheerfully wishing them, “Bonsoir.”
Walking to reception, I asked about where the reunion was being held. Obviously surprised I didn’t know, I told them I’d only recently returned to the country so this was a last minute thing. Pointing me in the direction of a function room, I noticed decorations had been placed in the hallway, while there was a desk behind which sat a pair of women. I didn’t recognise either of them, though after ten years away, and the fact we were now adults instead of teenagers, I guess we’d all changed.
Both glanced in my direction as I approached and I enjoyed the look on their faces. I have no problem saying I knew I looked damned good in my uniform. Stopping in front of them, I smiled. “Bonsoir, mesdames. Je suis ici pour la réunion mais je n’en étais pas au courant jusqu’� récemment.”
She blinked at me in confusion, causing me to grin even more. “Apologies, I’ve spent a decade in France and I’m just so used to speaking the lingo now. I’ve only recently returned home and had no idea this function was taking place until recently. I’d like to attend, if possible.”
“And you are?” she asked. She had a tag on her dress. Said her name was Alicia. I vaguely remembered a girl by that name.
“John Taylor.”
I noticed both jaws drop wide. “You’re alive?” Alicia asked quietly. She must have remembered me or at least heard one or more rumours.
“What are you wearing?” the other woman asked. Her tag said she was Sarah. To be honest, she didn’t seem familiar at all.
“Yes, I’m alive. And this is the dress uniform of a Legionnaire.” Both brows creased in confusion. “French Foreign Legion. Heard of it?”
“You what? You… You what?” Alicia asked.
“Do I need to pay to get in?”
“Um… no… no…” I was amused at how flustered both were, though I was left wondering if it was because they were seeing a ghost. Did people really think I was dead? My three mates hadn’t mentioned it. Alicia grabbed a piece of paper, wrote my name on it, then slid it into a tag. She handed it over, smiling at me. “I’m sure there will be some no shows tonight but we did have extra places. Head inside. Free beer and wine from the bar. Spirits require payment. Dinner will be served at 8pm. After that will be music afterwards. Welcome home, John.”
“Merci beaucoup. I might see you inside.”
“Oh, you definitely will,” Sarah murmured.
I heard but ignored it, attaching the tag opposite to where my medals were and I slowly strolled into the function room. It was already full of people, most of them with drinks in hand. At my appearance, I was amused that the place fell almost silent. I was the only one in any sort of uniform and I knew I looked good in it. I hadn’t removed my beret just yet. I could have glared across the room, knowing most would have taken a couple of steps back at my ‘war face’.
“John!” Mark called out, appearing through the crowd, “You made it!”
Smiling, I shook his hand, Brett and Chris following in his wake, offering their hands to shake too. After that was done, the three stepped back. “That your dress uniform?” Chris wondered.
“Fuck, how many medals you got?” Brett asked, gesturing at my chest.
Noticing all the eyes on me, I felt a little self-conscious so gestured to the bar. “Let’s get a drink first.” I’m fairly sure I heard more than one surprised comment that I was alive. By the time I’d ordered drinks, I had to ask, “Did people think I was dead?”
“You disappeared off the face of the earth, mate,” Mark replied, “After everything that happened, many assumed you’d met your end.”
“They thought I killed myself?” I received three helpless shrugs. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. The two girls out front thought they’d seen a ghost when I told them who I was.”
“To some, you probably are. We knew you were in Europe but under instruction from your parents not to tell anyone. I guess it all just snowballed from there.”
Conversations nearby eventually resumed and my appearance had been noted then dismissed. That suited me just fine. I’d maintained friendships with those important to me. If anyone else wanted to chat, all they needed to do was approach and say hello. I was regaling the three with a story of what some friends and I had got up to during a weekend in Europe when they fell silent and, to be honest, their faces started to pale. Noticing where their eyes were looking, I knew I’d eventually have to turn around and possibly face the music.
Turning slowly, I recognised the place had gone virtually silent again. No doubt what happened ten years ago still lingered in the memories of many. Lowering my eyes first, I noticed a pair of black heels, lifting my eyes slowly over a pair of black stockinged legs to see a black dress that flowed to the knees. Hips and waist that looked perfect, what looked like a flat stomach followed by a pair of small mounds. There was a hint of cleavage before there was some rather pale skin, then a chin. A pair of lips I remembered. A small nose that I’d always found adorable, A pair of green eyes that shone like emeralds before there was that mahogany red hair that was as vibrant as I remembered.
She looked nervous, her hands fidgeting in front of her. What surprised me was what rested on her left hand, third finger. It looked familiar but I figured she had simply married some other bloke during the intervening decade.
“Stephanie,” I managed to say, keeping any emotion I was feeling in that moment out of my tone, as I honestly didn’t know how to feel.
She met my eyes, her jaw opening more than once, clearly incapable of speech. I just gazed at her in silence. I wasn’t going to break first. I knew this was going to happen eventually. I just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. Part of me had hoped it wouldn’t happen at all.
When she stepped forward, I almost stepped back, before I felt her arms wrap around me, her head turning to rest on my chest.
“I’ve missed you, John. I’ve missed you so much.”
I almost laughed at her. There’s a good reason why.
*****
The Past
Stephanie McGregor had been part of my life since almost my first day at school when I was five years old. We started in kindergarten together, and even in those early days, we were drawn to each other for some reason. I remember Mum asking me within a month if I’d made any friends, and when I said I had, she asked who my best friend was.
“Stephanie,” was how I replied.