When We Were Young

Moments later.

Westminster, Central London.

The gates to Westminster Station opened as Elizabeth got close, responding to the phone in her bag. She dashed through them out of the pouring rain, but was already soaking wet. Her heart had started beating a lot faster. She couldn’t go back now — not only had she taken Siobhan’s secret phone, but she’d just paid a tube fare with it.

The Jubilee line would take her straight there. She had no way to arrange anything in advance, no way to reach out, no way to even use the phone she was carrying aside from paying for transit, checking the time or looking at a red frowning face. But it was all she could think to do. It wasn’t an option anymore to simply wait for Siobhan to return, to ask for an explanation.

“This is a Jubilee Line service to Stratford,” said the recorded announcement. It soothed her a bit, this relic of the past, this artefact that society absolutely refused to let go of, recorded tube announcements. Where everything else had long since switched to synthesised voice, this stalwart recording remained. It wouldn’t surprise her if it was on a magnetic tape.

Her arm looped around a pole in the narrow steel carriage, her bag clutched tight against her, what she’d found in the drawer tucked into the bottom. She had no plan. But the clock was running now.

“The next station is, Bermondsey.” It was a short journey, in theory, but in practice at this moment, it felt like an eternity. Elizabeth was jumpy, unnerved. She tried to be aware of everyone’s place on the tube, never letting anyone behind her, rotating around as people moved about. Her hands were sore from tightly clutching the strap of her handbag, her leather gloves creaking and stretching.

“The next station is, Canada Water.” Just a couple more stops, she told herself. Her eyes darted around again. Everyone here was catching one of the last trains of the night. They were mostly young, she noticed. Young and well-heeled looking, in pairs or groups. Some laughing, some silent, most looking at their Rings. Nobody else who looked even close to her age. At the far end of the cab, a couple sat in the corner, both dressed much more simply, in polo shirts and matching slacks, likely a work uniform. He had his arm around him, their heads together, engrossed in a paper book. Elizabeth’s mouth curled into a slight smile when she saw what it was: a tattered old copy of What We’ve Lost. But she quickly let it agitate her, worried they might see her. She spun round again, putting her back to them.

“The next station is, Canary Wharf.” Most everyone onboard gathered their things and queued up at the doors. Elizabeth continued to clutch the centre pole. Was this a terrible idea? Yes, of course. But she watched herself step off the train and onto the platform, the cavernous steel tunnel of Canary Wharf Station ahead of her, the two massive escalators up. She observed as she stepped into the queue, stood on the right and was carried to the top. She nearly asked herself to stop as the moving walkway took her past the shops and crowds, as the glass elevator brought her to the surface, into the freezing, torrential downpour. As her legs took her around and through the glittering corporate high-rises, dystopic megastructures, automated Scottish chain pubs and luxury tower blocks.

And then, there it was, right where it had always been, looking no worse for wear. The heavy glass door to what had been, and what may still be, the building where Cassandra lived. All those years ago she’d been able to simply let herself in with a guest pass. This time she’d have to commit an unthinkable crime in modern society: drop in unannounced.

She crowded in under the narrow overhang, getting a bit of reprieve from the rain, having already been fully drenched. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder, making sure it was still closed, and reached her finger toward the pad. It lit up when she got close. There was no camera, the QR reader and the buttons were gone, all replaced with a small screen and blocky, grinning face with some text underneath: “WHO ARE YOU HERE TO SEE?”

She leaned forward and shouted over the sound of the rain: “Cassandra Cooper.”

The face animated and the text changed. “CALLING.”

There was no speaker visible, and indeed no sound was audible. Even this primitive form of a door agent would still handle that side of it, making sure the person in the flat didn’t have to speak directly to whomever was outside. “WHO MAY I SAY IS CALLING?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and cleared her throat. “Elizabeth Marsh.”

She stood waiting, and waiting, and waiting. The face had gone, as it was wont to do when it was technically “upstairs.” And finally, it reappeared.

“PLEASE DO COME IN, ELIZABETH MARCH.”

The face beamed, unaware of its mistake, followed by a loud clonking sound. She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Aren’t you dead?” Cass was waiting in the hallway wearing plaid pyjamas and a worried face, her grey hair in a messy bun. “And don’t you own an umbrella?”

Cass set down two mugs of tea on saucers just as Elizabeth emerged from the bathroom. She was a bit more dry but still quite disheveled. The flat was startlingly similar to her memory, though looked to have been recently modernised, with far fewer plants and the addition of a small dining table. Elizabeth sat down at the table and put her hands around the mug to warm herself. She watched the steam curling up from the tea.

“Liz, I’ve got an extra set of pyjamas if you want to change. The bottoms might be more like shorts on you, but you’re welcome to them.”

She shook her head and stared down into her tea, fidgeting a bit with the tag on the string. “Cass, thanks for seeing me.”

Cass sat down at the table across from her, accompanied by a small pot of milk. “Of course. It’s been a while since you’ve been here.”

It would be overwhelming, if she hadn’t already maxed out her capacity to be overwhelmed earlier that night. She had no idea how to even begin to broach it. Maybe Cass would ask. Maybe it would never come up at all, which might also be fine. She picked up the teaspoon resting on the saucer and dipped it into the mug. She watched it briefly fog up before it went in.

“I was surprised you didn’t reach out first,” Cass said. “I can’t even begin to think of the last time someone just called on me unannounced. Not that it’s a problem. Just a bit retro, yeah?”

Liz smiled. “I suppose.”

“Unannounced drop-ins.” Cass’s mouth curled into a grin. “What we’ve lost.” Her voice was low and goofy, imitating Liz. “I’ll miss those most of all.”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Liz scoffed. She lifted the bag out of the tea and pressed her spoon against it, squeezing the last bits of liquid out. “I read once that this makes it more bitter, that you’re not meant to do it. But I’ve never been able to help myself.”

Cass smiled and poured a bit of milk into Liz’s tea. Liz watched the tea get a bit lighter, and a bit more, stopping at just about the perfect colour. Liz smiled back, giving it a light stir with the spoon.

“Good?” Cass asked.

“Yes that’s perfect,” Liz replied. She laid the spoon aside, picked up the mug and took a sip. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Good.” She inhaled deeply after her sip and closed her eyes, listening to the sound of Cass stirring her tea, the spoon clinking a few times on the side of the mug.

“Thank you. God, I needed that.” They both sat, sipping from their mugs, otherwise in silence. Elizabeth felt herself actually relax. The light in Cass’s flat was quite soft, a few orange glows coming from a few dim lamps scattered about, the city light out the window providing the rest.

Cass seemed content to just let her sit with no questions asked. She wanted to embrace it, take it at face value. But the longer they sat, the more she could feel a different tension start to build. She had to tell Cass why she was there.

“Cass, have you been watching the news?”

“I have,” said Cass, “as much as I try to avoid it. Morbid curiosity I suppose. I notice they still haven’t caught anyone from the other night. Have you heard anything?”

Liz held the mug in front of her face, both hands wrapped tightly around it. She shook her head.

“That seems unusual. I’d expect they’d want to interview everyone who was nearby at the time.”

“Cass.” Liz set the mug down and stared down into it. “They’re looking for five people.”

“Yeah?”

Liz leaned down and reached into her bag, which was slung at the foot of her chair. She fished something out from the bottom, lifted it up and slung it down onto the table. Cass set her mug down and leaned forward. “What is…”

“It’s five of them, Cass.” She spread out the tangled pile as best she could, her movements frantic. Her hands shook as she tried to lay them out next to each other in a panic, arranging and re-arranging and nudging and straightening and re-straightening them.

“I don’t…” Cass leaned down and studied them, squinting to better see. She gasped a bit. “Oh, my.” It was five sets of credentials for the Magenta Hospital ribbon cutting ceremony. “Where did you⁠—”

“They were in a drawer.” Elizabeth was breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath. “They were in a drawer, hidden under some clothes, in a drawer. In the room, in our room.”

“Slow down, slow down,” Cass said. Elizabeth was still fidgeting with the passes on the table. She took Elizabeth’s hands, steadying them. She squeezed, and Elizabeth squeezed back. “What drawer?”

“One of the drawers in our hotel room. A chest of drawers that Siobhan has her things in. I was looking for something and I found these.”

“Okay. Could they just be extras?” Cass was cool and measured. “Did you get more passes than you ended up using?”

Elizabeth shook her head vigorously. “No, no no, they would not have done that. They were very strict. One pass, one person. They told me they’d reclaim any unused passes on the spot.”

“Okay, but is it possible they simply didn’t? Or they just handed them back to⁠—”

“No, Cass. No. I don’t think so, it’s not possible.” Elizabeth was riding the line between panicked and frightened. “They’re biometric, they are coded to the person that they’re issued to, that’s how it always works.” She kept squeezing Cass’s hands, staring down at the passes underneath. “If you’re the wrong person wearing it, they know immediately. And you have to give it back when you leave, Cass. Why do we have these?”

Cass nodded. “I know, right, of course. That’s how passes for the Commons work now, as well. But of course, the bombing, all the confusion.”

“No, no, they collected them, I promise you. I watched them do it.”

“Okay, Liz, I believe you.” Cass gave Elizabeth’s hands one more squeeze, then let go. She picked up one of the passes. “So they’ll know immediately who these were issued to, then?” She turned it in her hand. “There’s no name.”

“They’d be able to scan it, I suppose, yes.”

Cass nodded. “That’s it, then.” She slid her chair back and stood up, then nodded down at the credentials on the table below. “We take these and we go turn them over to the police. First thing in the morning.”

“I… I don’t…” Elizabeth stared at them.

“You did the right thing, they’ll see that,” Cass insisted. “You found them and you brought them in.”

Elizabeth had fought so hard to get them. Made so many promises, talked her way past and around so many bureaucratic obstacles. Staked her reputation on this. Publicly and privately. “It can’t be. It has to be a coincidence. It can’t be.”

“It either is or it isn’t, Liz. But they can at least tell us who these belong to, yeah? They can get to the bottom of it.” Cass reached down to gather them up. Elizabeth’s hand came swiftly down onto hers, stopping her.

“Wait. This isn’t…”

“Isn’t what?”

“I just need a minute.”

Cass pulled her hand out, then crossed her arms in a huff. “Where is your shadow, anyway? Siobhan?”

Elizabeth shook her head as she gathered up the credentials back into a neat pile.

“You don’t know? You won’t say?”

“I shouldn’t have come.” She pushed up off the table and got to her feet quickly, her knees popping, her back cracking.

“Liz. Please. What is going on? You can’t just run from this! Talk to me.” Liz stuffed the passes back into her purse, her back to Cass. This was entirely predictable. Of course Cassandra Cooper was going to make this about her, to seize an opportunity, as ever, to make her feel foolish. She felt Cass’s hand on her back. “Elizabeth.”

“What?”

“Please.” They made eye contact. Cass’s face was pleading, desperate. She was instantly back in that moment, the last time she’d seen that face, intrusive memories pushing their way to the surface. “Please, just sit.” Elizabeth wrenched herself away from Cass, putting a foot of space between them.

“Cass,” Elizabeth started. But there was nothing else.

“Take the time you need.”

Elizabeth sat on the stool in front of Cass’s writing desk, on the far end of the flat. She’d been so stupid to come here. Fragments of that night came at her thick and fast, making her want to flinch, close her eyes, look away. She was so prone to meticulously recounting her mistakes to herself in the dark hours. Every awkward thing she’d said, every foot she’d put wrong, every name she’d mixed up, every mansplanation she’d ever quietly put up with, every social media post she’d quickly deleted. But she never dared think back to this.

“Cass, I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve apologised so long ago.”

Cass was stood by the window near the sofa, staring. Her lip quivered. “It’s okay.” Her voice cracked. “Elizabeth, it’s okay.” She crossed the room, approaching cautiously as Elizabeth put her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees, and started sobbing. She felt so incredibly tired. She hadn’t slept right in a week. Siobhan had kept her on a diet of biscuits, Paracetamol and adrenaline. And she was ready to simply disappear. “Liz, can I…”

“Yes you can bloody hug me you elf,” Elizabeth sputtered as she threw her arms around Cass’s waist.

“I’m an elf, now,” Cass laughed even as she started to cry.

“The short kind,” she clarified, “not the tall kind.”

“Oh Christ, Elizabeth Marsh,” Cass said. “We’re too old for this.”

Cass poured two glasses of merlot as they migrated to the sofa, the city lights spread out before them. Liz was almost certain the skyline was different now, but she couldn’t pick out what had changed. Life was funny like that. She could spot when things went suddenly missing, but if you slowly added things over time, it just felt like it’d always been that way.

“Back here again, are we, Ms. Marsh?” Cass sipped her wine.

“It would appear so, Ms. Cooper. It’s bizarre, after all this time. How have you never moved? I just assumed you’d be partnered up and off somewhere like Hemel Hampstead by now.”

“Hartfordshire, are you mad? Here I thought you knew me. No, no. And you? Is there a Mister or Missus Elizabeth Marsh?”

“Heavens.”

Cass put her head on Elizabeth’s shoulder and sighed. “Liz, I’m old, I’m retiring. Soon I’ll vanish from this world like a dead Jedi, just some robes and a broken wine glass.”

“You’re not old, you’re 52. You’re still fit.”

“I’ve got to tie up my loose ends before I go.”

“Mmmhmmm.” Liz sipped her wine and smiled.

“I just want you to know that I love you.”

“Mm, I, oh, goodness.” Elizabeth’s eyes went wide. She looked out at the city, floated out through the window, looked back at herself sat on the couch next to Cassandra Cooper, a woman unafraid to admit she loves someone who, perhaps… “I don’t deserve that.”

“It can’t be helped, Marsh. We can’t choose these things. I’ve loved you since the moment we met, since the moment I laid eyes on you. And selfishly, I want you to know that.”

Elizabeth felt her face go flush. She set down the wine glass delicately on the floor. Cassandra was a woman unafraid to hand you red wine and give you nowhere to place it. That’s trust.

“Gosh, Cassandra.” Elizabeth’s voice fluttered to the rapid beating of her heart. “I… when we met…”

“You don’t have to say it back. Like I said. I’m being selfish.”

“No, no, it’s not that. You were there for me. It was, from the first moment, such an intense friendship. You were a very intense person. And so private.”

“I was shy, Marsh. I didn’t want you to know I was crushing on you so hard.”

“You hid it well!”

“I absolutely did not!” Cass played offended. “I couldn’t keep my hands off of you that night at the hotel. And when you smiled at me, I was yours forever. If you wanted me.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth rubbed her neck, managing to find her way to these memories. To see them through fresh eyes.

“I was happy to be your friend, Liz. But it hurt. But I preferred the hurt to not having you at all.”

“And then I buggered it up.” She couldn’t look at Cass now. She felt so small, so childish in how she’d handled everything. She’d done well to protect herself from remembering any of this until tonight.

“Hey.” Cass gently touched her arm. “Hey. No regrets. I knew it was a risk. You were a risk I was willing to take.” Liz said nothing, instead leaning her head down on top of Cass’s. They sat together, relaxed against the back of the sofa, against each other, in silence.

“Liz, there’s something else I want, selfishly,” Cassandra said.

“What’s that?”

“I want you to not go to prison for terrorism.”

“Oh, Cassandra, really.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes dramatically, then fidgeted as she was forced to remember why she was here in the first place. Why she hadn’t been comfortable staying in the hotel room. “I was a wreck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s justifiable.”

“I’m calm, now. I appreciate you riding it out with me. I think I’ve decided to just confront Siobhan about it tomorrow.”

“I don’t like that idea for you. I’m worried what you’re getting yourself into. I saw how angry she got, the other day at the cafe.”

“She’s passionate.”

“Liz! She set off a bomb at a hospital! People were hurt!”

“We don’t know that, that is a massive leap.”

“Fine, you’re right. We don’t know that.”

“Thank you.”

“Liz, you’re not… are you two…?”

“What?” She wrung her hands and furrowed her brow. “No, Cass you’ve already asked this.”

“Well, I wanted to ask again. Selfishly. I’m sorry, that was crass. Again.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time with her though. She’s passionate but she wouldn’t hurt a fly. I promise you.”

Cass turned to face her. “Can’t stop me worrying, bab. I’ve been worrying about you for years. You seemed so distraught in your book. So lost.”

Elizabeth wasn’t sure how to take that. She pushed her hands across the sofa, feeling the velvety texture. Listening to the sound it made. She tried to appreciate someone expressing so much concern for her, especially Cass of all people. Cass was someone she had such a history with, who she’d slipped right back into feeling comfortable around. But something about it felt off.

Cass chuckled, as if she’d suddenly remembered something. “Oh! I got one more tattoo.” She looked over as Cass slid her pyjama sleeve up, turning her wrist. Written in beautiful calligraphy on the inside of her forearm was the phrase “She Never Married.”

Elizabeth burst out laughing. “Cassandra, my god.”

Cass giggled. “My fiftieth birthday present to myself.”

“It’s strange,” Liz said, “being here tonight. Nobody knows I’m here. Nobody has a way to reach me.” She looked at Cass as if she’d just surprised herself. “I don’t have a phone!”

“No?”

“No, it seems to have gone missing.”

Cass let out a heavy sigh, recognising the weight of what Elizabeth had just said, piling it on top of the weight of everything else they had with them tonight. “Oh, Elizabeth. It’s so late.” She got up and went to a small switch on the wall, flicking it down. The windows instantly went black, the room now almost dark, bathed in a muted orange. “Stay with me?”

It was after midnight, and though she hadn’t seen clear to admit it, she didn’t even have a way back into the hotel unless Siobhan was there to let her in. That, too was on her missing phone.

Liz nodded. “I had better do. I appreciate it, I really do.” Cass stood up, leaving Elizabeth sat on the sofa. She reached to the far end and picked up one of the throw pillows, a cartoon squid against a rainbow background. Bit garish, but at least Cass had finally started to add pops of personality to her flat.

“What are you doing?” Cass had stopped at the edge of the hallway. “On you come. Come on, bab, don’t be silly. It’ll be freezing out here by the window and I’ve passed out on the sofa reading enough times to know it’s not comfortable.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

Cass sighed. “In spite of your efforts, you are not an imposition.”

Elizabeth picked up her bag from the floor by the chair then joined her. Cass gently took her by the hand, and they slipped down the hallway and into the bedroom.

It was around 4 a.m. when they were startled awake by Elizabeth’s bag loudly ringing.