Friend Request Page 8

  ‘She’s a wild one. She likes boys, she likes girls, she likes it all ways, if you know what I mean.’

  I didn’t, not really, but I got the general idea. I forced some more vodka down.

  ‘Apparently she went so far that there was some boy who got totally obsessed with her, wouldn’t leave her alone, stalking her and that. That’s why she had to leave her old school.’

  I tend to divide the people I meet, or certainly those of my own age, into two broad categories: those who are like me, and those who aren’t. I was fascinated if a little disgusted by this new information about someone who (on my admittedly limited acquaintance with her) had seemed firmly in my category.

  ‘Are you sure? She doesn’t seem like that type.’

  ‘Ah, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch, Louise. Don’t you know that by now?’ He grinned. ‘You’re pretty quiet, aren’t you?’

  I flushed, my mind scrabbling around for a response, but thankfully we were interrupted by the arrival of Matt and Sophie. Sophie flung herself down next to Sam, leaning her head dramatically on his shoulder and declaring herself dying for a drink. Matt looked unhappily at them whilst he poured her another vodka and coke and then sat down next to me opposite them, his eyes on Sophie’s hand, which kept nudging Sam’s arm playfully. None of them seemed inclined to address any remarks to me, entering into an involved conversation about the exact nature of the drugs they had taken at a rave they’d been to recently, from which I was grateful to be excluded.

  The kitchen was heady with smoke and I was starting to feel a bit spaced out, unable to follow the conversation even if I’d had anything to add. I muttered something about needing the toilet, and none of the three even looked up as I rose and left the room.

  I wandered upstairs, stepping over snogging couples and pairs of girls deep in intense conversation. I had a choice at the top of the stairs. To my left was what I guessed to be the master bedroom. The door was ajar and I could hear a furtive rustling and panting from within. To my right there were several doors to choose from. The first turned out to be the airing cupboard, but the second one I tried was locked, suggesting it was the toilet. I sank down and sat cross-legged on the floor to wait.

  As the beat of the music downstairs faded for a second before rising again, I became aware of a noise coming from the toilet. At first I thought it was someone vomiting, but I gradually realised it was crying I could hear. A girl. She was obviously trying to keep the tears in, but it was no good. They were being wrenched out of her like a butcher tearing the innards from a dead animal. Gradually the gasps subsided and I heard the toilet flush. Despite my drunkenness, which was fairly advanced by now, I tried to arrange my face into a suitably nonchalant expression to indicate that I hadn’t heard a thing. However, when the door opened my face dropped, because the girl in the toilet was Maria.

  She looked at me with a mixture of shame and defiance.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ she asked, daring me to mention what I’d heard.

  ‘Nothing.’ I hesitated. ‘Are you OK though?’

  ‘Oh, I’m fine, great.’ Her speech was slurred and I realised she was even drunker than I was. ‘Just fucking great. And even better now I’ve seen you.’

  I reddened.

  ‘I’m sorry about that day in the lunch hall. You don’t understand what Sophie’s like. If I get on the wrong side of her, I’m finished. At school, I mean.’

  ‘Really? Seems like there’s plenty of people at school who get along fine without following her around like a puppy dog.’

  ‘But Sophie’s my friend,’ I say. ‘One of my oldest friends.’

  ‘I thought Esther was your oldest friend. Or non-friend now, I should say.’

  ‘What do you mean? What’s Esther told you?’

  ‘Never you mind,’ she said, attempting to tap her nose. The effect was somewhat spoiled by the fact that she was so drunk she missed her nose and ended up poking herself in the eye. For a moment she looked as though she was going to start crying again, but the balance tipped the other way and she collapsed in hysterical laughter, sinking down beside me on the floor. As she clutched my arm, laughter started to bubble up inside me and soon I had tears streaming down my face too. Every time the laughter started to die away, she would mime poking herself in the eye and it would start us off again.

  Eventually we calmed down, and from inside her jacket she produced a bottle of something similar to the concoction Sophie and I had been drinking earlier, except this one had a purplish tinge. She passed it over and I took a swig, barely even flinching this time.

  ‘So, what is it really?’ I asked her. ‘I heard you in there.’

  ‘I saw my dad today,’ she said, fiddling with the gold heart on her necklace. ‘You remember I told you he gave me this… before he left?’

  I remembered. The first present he had ever given her.

  ‘He said he’s not going to be able to see as much of us any more. He’s moving out of London. Got a job up north somewhere.’ She pulled the necklace forward harder. When she relaxed her hold I could see a faint pink line across the back of her neck. She looked as if she was about to say more but then seemed to change her mind. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Fair enough. What shall we talk about then?’

  ‘Why you’re such a bitch?’ she suggested, elbowing me to indicate that although she was half-joking, I wasn’t entirely forgiven.

  ‘I really am sorry. It’s just that Sophie’s been so good to me.’

  She looked at me sceptically.

  ‘She has! Inviting me to stuff, you know. Like here.’

  I glanced around nervously. The music pounded relentlessly away, reverberating through the house, and I could hear someone laughing raucously. Was it Sophie? Hopefully she wouldn’t have any reason to come up here and see me talking to Maria.

  ‘How come you’re here anyway?’ I asked her.

  ‘Charming!’

  ‘You know what I mean. I’d never have been invited if it wasn’t for Sophie. Who got you in?’

  ‘My brother, Tim,’ she admitted. ‘He’s at college with Matt’s older brother. He’s in that room, with some slag.’ She gestured to the master bedroom. The panter.

  ‘Do you get on with him? Your brother?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s all right. He looks out for me, you know. Protective.’

  I didn’t know, not having any brothers or sisters.

  ‘Sounds nice,’ I said wistfully.

  ‘Can be. Bit much sometimes.’

  She looked as if she was going to say more, but then the bedroom door creaked and the dark-haired boy that I’d seen on the path outside Maria’s house appeared, pulling on a T-shirt. The top button of his jeans was undone and I couldn’t help looking at the line of dark hair that led downwards. He walked over to us.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked Maria, ignoring me.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, keeping her eyes on the floor. She kept her hair pulled down over her face, using it as a shield to stop Tim from seeing that she’d been crying. ‘Leave me alone. Go back to your lady friend.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he asked, eyeballing me with suspicion. ‘Isn’t this that girl who —’

  ‘I’m fine, Tim,’ Maria repeated, jumping to her feet. I scrambled up, not wanting to be left alone with him. ‘We’re going outside to get some air. See you later.’

  ‘Don’t leave without telling me, OK?’ he called after us. Maria threw up her hand in a gesture that fell somewhere between waving and giving him the finger.

  We made our way back down the stairs, through the kitchen where there was no sign of Sophie, thank God, and out of the back door. I hadn’t seen anyone in the back garden earlier, so hopefully we could stay under the radar.

  There were a couple of slatted wooden sun loungers on the patio, and we lay down on our backs under the clear, star-studded night sky. I could still hear the noise of the party – the heavy thud of the music, a buzz of chatter,
the occasional whoop of laughter – but it had receded, as if it was happening far away, to people who had nothing to do with me. The air smelled cool and clean and I breathed easily for the first time all evening.

  We were silent for a while, until Maria flipped onto her side and looked at me.

  ‘So go on, what have you heard then?’

  I continued to stare at the night sky with a studied calmness I was far from feeling.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Me, of course. My mum thought we could leave it behind, but I’m not stupid, I know the rumours will have followed me here.’

  ‘I haven’t heard anything about you, honestly,’ I lied.

  I could tell that part of her wanted to talk, to share whatever it was that had followed her from London, which had already excited the attention or attracted the opprobrium of her new classmates. Whatever it was, it was making me feel on edge. I didn’t know if I wanted to be drawn into her world, so I stayed silent, giving her no encouragement.

  She remained on her side looking at me for a couple of minutes, until, seeming to come to a decision, she rolled back to face the sky. We lapsed into peaceful silence. My hand flopped over the side of my lounger and brushed against Maria’s, and she linked her little finger to mine, our hands swinging gently together as we watched our breath curl into the night air.

  ‘Hello, lovebirds!’ Sophie’s voice was strangely triumphant.

  My heart leapt. I snatched my hand away from Maria’s, swung my legs hastily round and sat up far too quickly, head spinning. The back door had swung open and a shaft of light illuminated the dark space between our sunbeds. Sophie was silhouetted in the doorway, Matt and Sam lurking behind her. What had they seen? I must have swayed, because Matt’s expression changed from prurient interest to mild concern.

  ‘Hey, are you OK? Are you going to be sick?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ I gripped the edge of the sun lounger.

  ‘Come and get some water.’ Suddenly, Sophie was all motherly concern. She pulled me up, put an arm around my shoulder and started to usher me inside. I allowed her to, only risking a look back when I was halfway through the open door. I expected to see anger, contempt or even pity. I wasn’t prepared for the naked despair on Maria’s face as Sophie led me away from her and back to the party.

  Chapter 10

  2016

  As I approach the school, still thinking uneasily of my conversation with Esther, the landmarks start to mount up: the bus stop with its carpet of cigarette butts; the high fence that still runs the length of the playground; the noticeboard by the front gate with its tatty bits of paper advertising God knows what. The buildings are largely unchanged, the old part of the school still handsome with its Victorian red-brick facade, the ‘new’ buildings grey and blocky, the product of sixties architecture that once thought itself so terribly modern.

  I was planning to drive straight past, take a quick look at the place, but amongst the faded notes on the noticeboard that look like they’ve been there since my time at school, a garish poster demands my attention. I slow to try and read it, and can just make out the rainbow-coloured bubble writing: School Reunion – Class of 1989.

  I brake sharply and swing over to the side of the road, parking haphazardly half-on and half-off the pavement. I dart across the road, ignoring the hoots and furious gestures of a driver who has to swerve to avoid me, and read the poster from top to bottom: it promises a disco, pay bar and cold buffet; eighties tunes and old friends. I look behind me, feeling weirdly guilty, as if someone might catch me out. I hear Esther’s voice in my head: Still tagging along, Louise?

  I cross back to my car and sit at the steering wheel for a few minutes, staring over at the school, trying to get to grips with the emotions tumbling inside me. I’m a completely different person now to the girl who came here every day for five years, and yet I wonder whether that can be true. There must be some core part of me that is the same. The girl who did the things I did is me. That was what made being with Sam so safe. He knew the real me, and I knew he’d never tell anyone about what I had done. He would tell me so sometimes, when we lay together, absorbed in each other, the rest of the world shut out. Promise me that despite the terrible thing I had done, he would never leave me. But of course he did, in the end.

  I start the engine and pull off. When I get to the end of the road I have a choice of turning left to head out of town, or right, towards the main residential part of Sharne Bay. I turn right, realising as I do that the contours of the road have been saved somewhere in my brain, a muscle memory that still works over twenty-five years on. Without thinking, I take another right towards my old house. The street is still lined with identikit 1970s houses, the front gardens neat and well cared for. There’s at least two cars on every drive now – some people have even managed to squeeze three on.

  Rather than turning the car around in this narrow street, I decide to carry on and rejoin the main road at a different point, but when I get to the junction where I need to turn right, I find the road has been made one-way, so I have to carry on. I turn left and right at random, trusting that I’ll end up back on the main road at some point – Sharne Bay’s a small town, I’m hardly likely to get lost. But as familiar landmarks begin to catch my eye – the post box built into a brick wall, that high box hedge on the corner – I gradually begin to realise that I am far from lost. I am on the road where Maria lived, a street of small Victorian terraces cramped together behind narrow pavements. These houses don’t have driveways so the street is busy with parked cars, but there’s a space opposite number 33, and I pull over, remembering the last time I was there, lying on Maria’s bed, laughing until my stomach ached. I try to recall the last time I laughed like that, but I can’t. Maybe it doesn’t happen in adult life. It’s stuffy in the car where I’ve had the heating on, so I decide to have a walk, get some air and then head back to London – leaving this nostalgia-fest, or whatever it is, behind me.

  As I get out of the car, a bald man of about my age comes along the pavement with a baby in a buggy. As he passes me, our eyes meet and there’s a second of non-recognition before I gasp and he does a double take.

  Oh my God. A shard of ice slithers down my back. He looks older, of course, older than his years in fact, but I’d know him anywhere. It’s Maria’s brother, Tim Weston.

  ‘Louise?’ he says, standing stock-still in the middle of the pavement. ‘Louise Williams?’

  ‘Tim. Oh my goodness, I didn’t know you still…’ I tuck my hair behind my ears, then thrust my hands into my pockets to keep them still. ‘What are you doing here? Does your mum…?’ I indicate number 33.

  ‘What? Oh no – I live there now. Bought it from Mum. What are you doing here, Louise?’

  ‘I’ve been seeing a client in the area,’ I improvise hastily. ‘I lost my way, and I pulled over to look at the map on my phone.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ He’s looking at me dubiously. ‘Where does the client live?’

  My mind goes blank, and I can only think of my own old street.

  ‘Turner Street, would you believe?’ I smile, trying to deflect the suspicion that this piece of information is likely to garner.

  ‘So has your mum moved away, or…?’

  ‘She moved to a bungalow a few years ago, so we bought it from her, me and my wife. Couldn’t have afforded to buy otherwise.’

  ‘Oh, wonderful!’ I’m going wildly over the top, my heart fluttering in my chest. ‘And this is your daughter?’

  His face thaws slightly. ‘Yes. Have to take her out in the buggy, it’s the only way she’ll sleep. Gives my wife a break too. She needs it sometimes, especially now she’s back working again. She’s got her own business, doing really well, but it’s hard, she’s…’ He trails off as if he’s thought better of letting me into his life to that degree.

  I look down at the baby, fast asleep in her pink snowsuit, all rosy cheeks and long eyelashes.

  ‘She’s beautiful.’ It took Sam and me so much t
ime and effort and pain to have Henry, that I thought when he arrived we would relish every minute, every cry, every sleepless night. I thought that when people talked about sleepless nights, it was just a figure of speech. I didn’t realise that it actually meant nights without any sleep at all. It soon became clear that Sam couldn’t or didn’t want to cope with the ferocious demands of babyhood, and that I was willing to take on all the caring duties because I was terrified that if I didn’t, he would leave. I did other things too, to keep him happy, to keep him with me. I didn’t know then that you can’t stop someone leaving you.

  Tim looks down at his daughter, smiling. ‘Thanks.’ There’s an awkward pause and I cast around for something to say. What do you say to someone you haven’t seen for more than twenty-five years who you know hates your guts, and with good reason?