‘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