The Bonds of Brotherhood
Edward pulled his Jaguar up outside the shopping centre, reluctant to leave the warmth of the car. Yesterday’s sleet had turned to rain, and by morning, a bitter wind had crusted the slush into treacherous ice, sending pedestrians skidding.
Tomorrow was his mother’s birthday, and as usual, he’d left gift shopping to the last minute. A large department store would surely have something suitable.
The moment he stepped out, a gust tore open his coat and flung one end of his scarf over his shoulder. Clutching his coat shut, he locked the car and took a step—only to slip, nearly falling. The ice hadn’t yet been salted or gritted, and his polished leather shoes had no grip.
After an awkward shuffle, he made it inside, exhaling in relief. He headed for the scarves and gloves section, then stopped—he’d given his mother a shawl last year.
“Eddie! Blimey, is that you?” a cheerful voice called from near a jeweller’s display.
Beside him stood Henry, his oldest—and, as it turned out, only—true friend.
“Been ages, hasn’t it? Looking sharp—got that London style now.”
“Just got back, actually,” Edward mumbled, caught off guard.
“Funny, I was just thinking about you. Fancy a cuppa?”
“Can’t—gift shopping,” Edward said.
“Hold on… Margaret’s birthday’s soon, right?”
“You remember?” Edward brightened. “Tomorrow. Left it to the last minute, as usual.”
“Right, get on with it, then. I’ve done my bit.” Henry lifted his shopping bags. “But, listen—ring me soon, yeah? Or I’ll hunt you down.” He handed Edward a business card before striding off.
Choosing earrings for his mother, Edward replayed the encounter, annoyed at how awkward he’d been. It wasn’t that he wasn’t glad to see Henry—he was thrilled. Just shocked.
He paid with his card, then spotted Henry’s in his pocket. Blimey… deputy director of a construction firm.
“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at the cashier. “Ran into an old mate—been years.”
Driving home, his thoughts lingered on Henry…
***
They’d stood side by side on their first day of school, clutching near-identical bouquets of gladioli. Both wore the same mix of excitement and nerves. When the lines filed in, they’d instinctively grabbed each other’s hands. In class, they shared a desk.
Thus began their friendship. They bickered, of course—what lads didn’t?—but made up quickly, and the quarrels were always trivial. Henry was always first to offer peace.
Even when they chose different universities, they didn’t argue. They understood life would pull them apart, but no one could stop them staying friends. That was up to them.
Henry studied engineering; Edward, languages. Weekends were sacred—hours spent talking nonstop.
Henry’s course was all blokes. Edward’s, a garden of roses—more girls than lads, and every one a stunner. Yet only one caught his eye: petite, fiery Victoria. Laughter danced in her gaze, ready to burst free and infect everyone. Light on her feet, with wild curls—Edward couldn’t look away.
It took weeks to approach her. Finally, he asked for help with a translation.
“Could’ve just said you fancied me,” she teased.
“I do… Can I walk you home?” he blurted.
“Go on, then.” She flashed him a grin.
They wandered through the spring streets, and Edward’s heart near leapt from his chest. That night, he relived every glance, every smile—though not a word she’d said. Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
He walked her home most days. Cool April gave way to balmy May, yet he still hadn’t kissed her. Exams loomed; after, she’d vanish—first to her parents’ in Cornwall, then her gran’s in York until autumn. The thought filled him with despair.
His last chance was his birthday—late May. He’d invite her home, introduce his parents, finally confess his love.
She agreed without fuss. Buoyed, he asked her to bring her usual companion—a tall blonde named Elizabeth.
“Lizzie?”
“Yeah. My best mate’s at Poly—barely any girls there. None like you, anyway.”
“Suppose.” She smirked. “And if she’s not his type?”
“Just so he’s not bored. We’ll see.”
His mother bustled in the kitchen that morning. Edward’s attempts to help were thwarted by nerves—dashing back and forth over ties, shirts.
“Set the table,” she urged. “And relax—if you like her, I will too.”
“You’re brilliant.” He kissed her cheek. “She’ll love you.”
Henry arrived, steadying him. Still, Edward kept checking the clock. The girls were late.
“What if she changed her mind?” he fretted.
“Lasses are always late. Get used to it,” his father said.
The doorbell rang. Edward bolted. His mother sighed.
“This infatuation won’t end well.”
Edward returned with two girls. His mother and Henry instantly noticed the striking blonde—straight out of a film. But Edward introduced plain, lively Victoria instead. Sweet, but ordinary next to Lizzie.
At the table, his father toasted. Soon, the parents excused themselves.
The lads were well-matched in looks—Edward shy, Henry quick with jokes. Victoria howled at each one, forgetting Edward entirely. Finally, he dragged Henry outside.
“What’re you playing at? She’s mine!” Edward seethed.
“Not my fault she’s taken a shine!”
“So you turn on the charm?”
“Got it, no more. Lizzie’s more my speed.”
“I’m serious.”
“Relax—don’t want your Victoria. Bit plain, honestly.”
Back inside, Victoria tugged Henry to dance. He shot Edward an apologetic shrug.
Edward asked Lizzie. Mid-dance, she clutched her eye.
“Something’s in it—my mascara’ll run.”
He led her to the loo. She gripped his wrist.
“See anything?”
Nothing. Returning, they found the others gone.
“Where’d they go?” Edward frowned.
“Your friend’s walking her home.”
“Why?”
“Fancied him. I’ll head off too.”
His parents returned.
“Leaving so soon?”
“Was lovely,” Lizzie said.
“Aren’t you walking her?” his mother scolded.
Edward sighed, obliged. Home, he rang Henry.
“Sorry—wasn’t my idea. She asked.”
Their first real fight. Edward blamed Victoria too.
After exams, he spotted Henry and Victoria together.
“Fancy the beach? First swim of summer!” Henry offered peace.
The whole walk, Henry joked. Edward stayed sullen. At the crowded beach, only reckless teens braved the chilly water.
A tense silence hung.
“Honestly!” Victoria huffed. “Did I promise you anything? I like you both.”
“Race you across,” she challenged. “Winner takes all.”
Edward was a strong swimmer—Henry, hopeless.
“Too cold. Could cramp,” Henry wavered.
“Chicken?” she taunted.
“He knows I’ll win,” Edward scoffed.
“We’ll see.” Henry plunged in.
Edward gave him a head start, then swam smoothly, gaining fast. Victoria bit her lip, watching Henry falter, sink.
She screamed. Lads rushed in.
Edward turned, saw the commotion, swam back. He and another dragged Henry ashore. Edward pumped his chest.
Henry coughed up water, gasped. Victoria knelt beside him.
“Had no idea you couldn’t swim!”
A stranger tossed Henry a towel. He dressed shakily, walked off without a word.
Edward chased him.
“You won,” Henry muttered at his door.
“Don’t be daft. You’d have saved me too. Victoria set us up—why’d you jump?”
Henry gave him a strange look, vanished inside. Calls went unanswered. Victoria rang, complaining Henry wouldn’t pick up.
Exams passed without her. Edward realised he could live without Victoria—but not Henry. He stopped calling, letting things cool. But the rift remained.
Edward never married. No love ever compared. Henry did. Edward glimpsed the wedding car from afar—assumed it was Victoria. He didn’t envy, only stung that Henry hadn’t invited him.
***
Edward rang the next day. The hatchet was buried—had there even been one? Just a girl they’d both fancied. He was happy for them.
“Hello?”
“Blimey! Been a thousand years!”
“Work, travel… Let’s meet.”
“Can’t—wife’s just had a son. No one to mind my daughter.”
“Ah! You and Victoria—”
“Victoria? My wife’s Lizzie.”
“The sameEdward laughed—suddenly lighter, as though every lost year had slipped away like the last of winter’s ice.
