Free Do You Remember the First Time? by Jenny Colgan Page A

her identity? Because if you are I’m telling the police.’
    At that, I was tempted to tell her her PIN number, which I knew in case of emergencies but, I figured, best not.
    ‘No,’ I said. ‘I swear on Dave Grohl’s life.’
    She shook her head, dazed.
    ‘Tashy, remember when we were fourteen and we swore faithfully the only man we’d sleep with before marriage was Prince Edward?’
    She stared at me.
    ‘Remember when you got locked in a toilet with that boyat McKaskill’s party? You weren’t really locked in, were you?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘Remember when we tried to drink your parents’ crème de menthe and hurled all over the shagpile rug?’
    ‘We were never going to tell anyone about that.’
    ‘We never did. What about the time you …’
    ‘OK, what? WHAT?!’
    Her face was a picture of confusion and despair. I took a deep breath. She was staring at me, eyes and mouth wide.
    I lowered my voice. ‘A certain tampon withdrawal failure? Being discovered on the end of a certain man’s …’
    Her hands went to her face. ‘OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. It’s you. WHAT HAPPENED?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    ‘It just – can’t be.’
    ‘I know.’
    She came up to me and squinted right in my face. I tried to keep still.
    ‘God,’ she said. ‘What the hell have you done now?’
    ‘So, I couldn’t get away with it just being a very good facelift and lots of healthy living?’ I said glumly.
    ‘Who would believe that of you anyway?’ She was staring at my face in a quite unnerving manner, and put her hands up to touch it. ‘My God …’ she said.
    ‘I know.’
    ‘What … what happened?’
    ‘I wish I knew,’ I said.
    ‘I saw you just a couple of days ago.’
    ‘No! That’s the thing. I just woke up this morning. Well, when I say “this morning” …’ I paused. ‘We really, really need a drink for this,’ I said. ‘Want to nip over to the Atlantic?’
    She half sniggered. ‘A teenager says what now?’
    ‘What?’
    We used to love the Atlantic. So expensive, but so pretty, and we could watch the mating rituals of the predatory scrawny English blonde, and merchant bankers and Eurotrash.
    ‘Tash, it’s me. It’s ME ME ME ME. So can we go to the Atlantic or not?’
    ‘Well, if we can get you in.’
    We made it in by my taking off my school tie and whisking past the doorman when he was distracted.
    ‘This is terrible,’ said Tashy. ‘Look at my hand shaking. I feel like your evil auntie. But that’s OK, because in a second – ’ she sipped her Mojito – ‘you’re going to tell me the secret of eternal youth. Or I’m going to wake up.’
    ‘I’ve been waiting for that all day.’
    ‘And it hasn’t happened?’
    ‘Not so far.’
    This time Tashy took a gulp, closed her eyes firmly for five seconds, opened them again and stared at me.
    ‘OK,’ I said. ‘This is going to sound crazy.’
    ‘No shit.’
    ‘We were at your wedding.’
    ‘My WHAT?’
    ‘We’re attracting attention.’
    ‘My wedding NEXT MONTH!’
    ‘Shh. Yes.’
    ‘Oh my God.’ Tashy’s eyes were darting around. ‘What’s it like? What’s the weather like? How do I look? How’s the food?’
    ‘Um,’ I said.
    ‘Does everyone cry? Is there a fountain? Is Max all right or does he look a bit of a dick in his morning suit?’
    ‘Um, Tash, I don’t know if I should tell you.’
    She was very red in the face. ‘Oh. This is bullshit, isn’t it? I’m out of my mind. OK, tell me: what have you done with my friend?’
    ‘Max wears a bottle-green waistcoat,’ I barked out suddenly. ‘He looks like a prick to start with because he’s embarrassed, but he relaxes into it and looks alright. And your Vera Wang is gorgeous.’
    ‘Fuck a duck,’ said Tashy, sitting back. ‘Fuck a fucking duck.’
    ‘I’m just … I mean maybe all this is weird enough. Maybe you’re not supposed to know the future or something.’
    ‘But what about …? I mean, you must know other things that happen.’ She