'Were you at school together?' Samantha asks.
Anthony nods. 'We've not seen each other since.'
'Are you here alone?' Daniel asks, hoping that Anthony will say no, that he's come with a wife, a girlfriend; someone, anyone, who will insist that they have to leave, that they have something far more pressing to be doing on a Saturday than reminisce on days gone by.
But instead Anthony says, 'Yes. Yes, I was actually hoping I might see some of the old boys from Broadoaks.' He turns to Samantha. 'I was just telling Daniel, I've moved down to Islington and-,'
'We're in Islington,' Samantha interrupts, touching his arm, familiar already. 'What a small world. Do you know anyone in the area?'
Anthony shakes his head. 'No. I've got other friends in London, but scattered about. You know how fragmented it gets.'
'Of course,' Samantha nods. 'Of course. Well, what are you doing tonight?'
'I'm sure he has plans,' Daniel says quickly. He must have plans. Let him have plans.
'Not a great deal,' Anthony shrugs. 'Saturday night TV. I might push the boat out and have a take-away.'
'Well, we've a couple of friends coming over for dinner if you'd like to join us.'
'Are you sure?'
'Of course.' She looks to Daniel. 'We'd love that, wouldn't we?'
Daniel forces a smile. 'Of course. If you can make it. I mean, it's short notice. We won't be offended if you can't make it.'
'I'd love to,' Anthony says. 'Let me take your address.'
'I'm always saying to Daniel,' Samantha carries on, searching in her handbag for a pen, 'that I've never met any of his old friends.'
'Really?'
'Honestly,' she says, handing him a Parker ballpoint pen. 'Now, you're not vegetarian, are you?'
As the conversation carries on around him, Daniel's head feels light from the wine and he feels himself drift from being an attached, involved participant to a removed, isolated observer. He hears them discussing Islington, Anthony's move down from Leeds; he hears Samantha recommending different shops, cafes, bars. He hears a friendship being formed around him.
'Daniel,' Samantha says, as if for the second time. He looks to his wife and, as if he's drunk, she comes into slow focus. 'Anthony just asked if you'd like another drink.'
He looks from his empty glass to his watch. 'Have we got time?' He asks. 'What time did you tell Tom and Janine?'
Samantha frowns. 'They're not coming over till eight.'
'It's four o'clock now. By the time we get back, get cooking, it'll be five.'
'That's still three hours, Daniel.' She rolls her eyes at Anthony. 'You'd think I was preparing a five course meal. It's just going to be [something]. That's alright, isn't it?'
'Lovely,' Anthony says. He looks to Daniel. 'Another red wine? Rioja okay?'
'He seems nice,' Samantha says as Anthony walks to the bar. 'I can't believe you haven't seen each other since school. Were you good friends?'
'I suppose so.'
'How can you suppose? You either were or you weren't.'
'Okay, we were. We were good friends.'
Samantha looks at him for a moment, cocks her head to one side and smiles. 'Is it something to do with a girl?'
'What do you mean?'
'Well, there's some kind of tension between the pair of you, Daniel. I'm not blind.'
'So why did you ask him to dinner?' He asks.
Samantha opens her mouth in mock-shock. 'Because I'm being friendly. He doesn't know anyone in the area, you heard him. Anyway, whatever happened back then is history. You can forget about it. You're men now, not boys.'
'Yes, I know that, thank you.'
'So am I right?'
'About what?'
'About it being a girl you fell out over.'
'What difference does it make?' Daniel whispers. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Anthony handing money over at the bar. 'Like you said, it's all history now.'
'Well, I'm just curious,' Samantha says. 'What's wrong with wanting to know more about my husband?'
'There's nothing more to know.'
Samantha laughs. 'I'm sure that's not true. An all boys school. I bet Anthony's got some stories about you.'
Anthony comes back to the table and for the next twenty minutes the conversation bounces between he and Samantha, Daniel contributing as little as possible.
He's being churlish, he knows that, and, yes, it's purposeful in part. But the truth is that he has nothing to say to this man, this version of the boy he once knew all too well. His mouth is dry, his tongue flat and futile against gritted teeth. He looks at Anthony opposite, relaxed, comfortable in conversation, and wonders if this is how it feels to see a ghost.
He looks at his wife, this woman who would have once been the studious girl at school, the girl desperate to escape the council estate, to make something of her life, the girl who unselfishly wanted everything. He looks at her now and he thinks how lucky he is. He's lucky to have such a beautiful wife, such a beautiful, pregnant wife. He has what so many people envy. He has everything. There is nothing missing in his life. Nothing at all.
'Are you alright, Dan?' He hears Anthony ask. 'You look white as a sheet.'
'It's Daniel,' he says. 'I'm fine.' He clears his throat. 'I'm fine.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes. Thank you. I'm fine.'
'It's the drinking in the day,' Samantha says. 'It goes straight to his head. I'm the same, to be honest. I'd normally have a glass of wine, but, well, given the recent reports-,'
'You're pregnant?' Anthony interrupts, eyebrows raised.
Samantha smiles, pats her stomach and nods. 'It's early days, but-,'
'I thought we weren't telling people until the first scan,' says Daniel.
'I know, I know,' Samantha grimaces, holds up her hands, defeated. 'I can't help it. I'm just so excited.'
'Well, congratulations,' Anthony smiles. 'Congratulations the pair of you.' He shakes Daniel's hand, then turns back to Samantha. 'Is it your first?'
'Yes.'
'Do you know what you're having?'
'No. We don't want to, do we?'
Samantha rests her hand on Daniel's. He mutters something in agreement, takes his hand back and lifts his glass to his lips. Their eyes meet for a moment before he looks away.
'Excuse me,' he says as he stands and walks to the bathroom.
As Daniel walk away from the table, Anthony asks Samantha, 'How long have you been married?'
The question seems out of the blue, and Samantha takes a moment to answer.
'Twelve years,' she says. 'Twelve years this September.'
'And you're happy.'
She can't tell if this is a question or a statement, so she just smiles and nods.
'Of course,' she says, and then, keen to steer the conversation away from herself, she asks. 'And you? Are you with anyone?'
Anthony shakes his head. 'No,' he says. 'No, we broke up before I came down to London.'
'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be.' He shrugs, seemingly nonplussed. 'Some things aren't made to last, are they?'
'Was it mutual?'
'As much as these things ever are.'
'How do you feel about it?'
'Okay. Now.'
'These things take time.'
'That's what I'm telling myself.' Anthony smiles, looks Samantha in the eye. 'Time heals all wounds, doesn't it?'

Daniel stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, his hands under the cold tap.
Staring at his reflection, he's taken aback by how old he looks. There are small lines in the corners of his eyes, speckles of grey in his hair that he'd not noticed, or had at least ignored until now. It's hard to imagine that the man he's faced with now and the boy Anthony Gray once knew are the same person; the past and the present combined.
Samantha has always said he looks older than his years. When they first met, she'd been surprised when he said he was 21, only two years her senior.
'I thought you were older,' she'd said, then shaken her head with embarrassment. 'Not old, just older.'
'How old did you think I was?' He'd asked.
'Oh, I don't know.'
'Come on, tell me.'
She'd studied his face. '25, 26 maybe. No older than 26, definitely.'
'Are you disappointed?'
'Not at all. Just surprised, that's all.'
As he places his hands under the drier, he looks at the door back into the bar and imagines Samantha and Anthony at the table, laughing, joking, swapping stories about him. He can hear his wife on their way home, already. 'He was lovely,' she'll say. 'Wasn't it nice to catch up? Why did you lose contact?'
And he'll have to agree, he'll have to say that, yes, it was nice to see him, it was nice to catch up on old times, it will be nice to have him over for dinner. He'll have to agree because otherwise the questions will start, and questions mean answers that he doesn't want to give.