Darcy remembers Zoe had sat in the corner, refusing to join in. When she was told it was part of their participation grade, she got up but looked as though someone had stuck a ruler up her arse. ‘It was fun,’ Darcy remembers fondly. She’s always been a sucker for any kind of game. ‘Mind you, maybe if I’d had a little less fun, my grades would have been as good as Zoe’s—and I’d be the one landing the big gigs.’

‘Oh, please,’ Ed says. ‘Want me to get out my violin?’ His sympathy levels have clearly reached their peak. ‘Who wants to go to university to just study? We’re never going to party like we did back then.’

It’s depressing to think that, but she guesses he’s right. They’d had so much fun over those three years. Among their studies, there had been a constant stream of parties and impromptu drinking sessions and staying out all night. As she moves to the cupboard to find some food, she tells him, ‘I remember you so clearly from that first day.’

A crease forms between Ed’s eyes as he collapses onto the lounge. ‘Oh yeah, what is it you remember? My good looks?’

Ed is a good-looking man. Tall, broad, with green sparkling eyes and a smile that brightens any room. But it hadn’t been his looks that caught Darcy’s attention. ‘I thought you looked like a nice guy.’ She remembers thinking she could be friends with him. He seemed like the kind of guy that was fun but genuine, silly yet serious.

Ed frowns, unimpressed with her answer. ‘You do know if I said the same thing to you, you’d think it was the worst compliment in the world—you’d twist my words and make out that it meant you were very unattractive.’

Darcy’s amused at this and reconsiders her words. ‘So true.’ She finally finds half a bag of corn chips and settles back against the bench. ‘So, what first impressions did I make on you?’

‘Killer legs,’ he answers without hesitation.

She feigns offence—‘Typical guy!’—but then hides her grin behind her glass of wine.

He rolls his eyes at seeing how much she likes the compliment, and gestures for her to chuck him the packet of chips.

‘Where’s Sienna?’ Darcy asks, throwing the packet to him.

‘Who knows?’ He shrugs, stuffing some chips into his mouth. ‘I’ve given up asking. There’s always some meeting after school, photocopying to be done or setting up for the next day.’

Darcy gets it. Even though Drew technically knocks off at three o’clock, some nights he doesn’t get home until hours later.

‘She gets the shits if I call to check how long she’s going to be,’ he says.

‘Teachers.’ She shakes her head in mock disgust. ‘What bastards, educating the children of the world.’

‘Touché.’