Forget Me Never (7 page)

‘I can’t pretend I’m delighted,’ Effie was saying. I guessed she was in Reece’s room, next door. ‘I wish you’d asked me before telling her it was
OK.’

‘Could have, but you’d have said no,’ I heard Reece say. ‘Stop being snobby!’

‘I’m not! I just think you’re spending too much time with her.’

‘You don’t like her, do you?’

‘She takes you for granted, and what’s more, you let her! And I don’t think you having a girl staying over is appropriate. You behave yourself, OK?’

‘Mum! That is a total overreaction.’

I creaked the wardrobe door and noisily shifted some books on the bedside table. Reece and Effie fell silent. I let a moment pass, then opened the door.

‘Thanks for letting me stay,’ I said, poking my head around the door to Reece’s room.

‘Don’t mention it,’ Effie said thinly. ‘Do you like olives? I was going to get some from the delicatessen.’

‘Love them.’ I waited for her to leave, then turned to Reece and pulled a face. ‘Didn’t mean to get you into trouble.’

Reece rubbed his shoulder, looking a bit awkward. ‘You know how Mum is. Least Aiden can’t get you here. That’s the main thing.’

Mum didn’t say much over dinner but there was definitely a chilly atmosphere. Fortunately Neve was completely oblivious and proved a helpful distraction. Sometimes I
wished I could get back down to her level. She was nearly always happy. When she was sad, it only took a few words from Mum to coax her out of it. That kind of trust, the belief that people are
good and the world’s OK – everyone loses that sooner or later. It’s sad when you realize it.

I half thought Mum might follow me and Soph when we took our bowls of ice cream through to the sitting room. But she just said something about being in the conservatory if we needed her. I must
have been in a strange mood because I asked Neve if she wanted to hang out with us. Neve usually jumped at any invitation to be a ‘big kid’. This time she just shook her head. Soph had
already gone through. When I walked in she was rifling through the DVD collection.

‘I can’t believe how many you have,’ she said. It was amazing how relaxed she seemed. ‘Do you ever rewatch any of these?’

‘Sometimes. Any guesses which films are Mum’s and which are mine?’

‘If the thrillers are your mum’s and the costume dramas are yours, I’ll have to start reassessing things.’ Sophie chose the latest James Bond and we sat down. I stirred
my ice cream into liquidy goo, half watching the introduction.

We were very close on the sofa. Though we’d sat next to each other on the tube, on the Eye, when we’d been looking up stuff on my computer, this felt different. Maybe it was because
we were doing normal things, rather than talking about murders and stalkers and police. It felt weirdly intense.

I put my bowl down on the table. The ice cream was making me feel a little sick. As Bond blasted villains and dived out of burning buildings, I kept sneaking glances at Sophie. She was totally
engrossed in the film. She had always been like this whenever we watched anything, however far-fetched the story. It was kind of cute. Her hair had got really long now, almost to her waist. As
usual it could have done with a brush. I didn’t think Sophie realized how pretty she was. If she had, she might have made a bit more of herself. Plenty of times when we’d been out
I’d seen guys looking at her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Once again I found myself thinking that I could have been a better friend to her recently. It wasn’t like I couldn’t deal with it – I knew I could. About a year ago Sophie had
been acting weirdly. I’d realized something was badly wrong one afternoon when we were hanging out in Caffè Nero. I’d been telling her a story about something funny that had happened in
history class, but halfway through I’d realized she was a million miles away. While Sophie might be moody, she wasn’t usually like this.

I knew she’d bite my head off if I asked what was wrong in public, so I waited until we were alone at her house. I’m pretty rubbish at this kind of thing, but I must have done OK
because she started crying.

‘I just can’t
think
any more,’ she had said. Everythings bad.’

‘Don’t say that.’ I put my arm around her. Sophie flinched, but after a moment pressed her face into my shoulder, which really freaked me out. I said a lot of stuff about how
it was OK to get upset and I wouldn’t tell anyone and how we were going to get past this.

Sophie had said, ‘But people don’t get past bad things. You think you have, but it always stays with you.’

I had realized a lot in that moment. I’d always known Sophie had had pretty rubbish luck in life. She never bleated about it, but over the years I’d picked up enough to know that you
don’t bounce back easily from what she’d been through. It messes with your sense of self-worth and your ability to trust. Most people thought Sophie was prickly and had a bad attitude,
but I knew better. She looked after herself because she didn’t trust anyone else to.

I also suddenly knew that it was really important not to give up on her.

Looking back, I probably should have told someone at the time, but it seemed like I’d be betraying Soph. I knew now the reason she was feeling so rubbish. A couple of months earlier had
been the anniversary of her mum and aunt dying and she’d been to the cemetery to visit the graves for the first time. The loss of her mum had really hit her then. She’d started
remembering how her life used to be with her mum, and feeling guilty that she’d been taken into care, as if it had been her fault, and she kept having nightmares about cars crashing. I
wasn’t sure what to say or that I even understood. I hadn’t known I had it in me to be so patient. Over autumn half-term I made her do stuff with me every day and I called and texted
when we weren’t together. By the time December came she had started taking more of an interest in things.

One day in the Christmas holidays we went to the funfair at Ally Pally and we bumped into some girls from Broom Hill. One of them was Zoe Edwards, whom I couldn’t stand. She’d always
picked on Sophie in the kind of way teachers didn’t notice – nasty comments here and there, elbow pokes when Soph walked down the corridor, false rumours.

‘Ooh, we’ve interrupted their date,’ Zoe sneered. The other girls tittered as though she’d said something clever. ‘How’s it feel to have a crazy girlfriend,
Reece? You could do so much better.’

‘Is that an offer?’ I’d asked. ‘In your dreams, Zoe. Why don’t you get lost? Not in the mood for a slagging match.’

‘I’m not slagging her off. I’m just, you know, stating the obvious.’

‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘Come on, Soph.’

‘Guess it does look like we’re on a date,’ Sophie said as we walked away. ‘They don’t get how things are.’

She was talking as if I knew what she meant. Suddenly I wasn’t sure I did. ‘And how is that?’

Sophie shot me a surprised look. ‘You know – mates.’

‘Duh,’ I found myself saying. My reaction was totally at odds with what my heart was saying. ‘What do they know anyway? I want a girl who’s shorter than me, obviously
– else I’ll develop a complex.’

‘Yeah, and you’ve enough of mine to deal with.’ Sophie nudged me, and I smiled. As we whirled on carousels and shot at plastic ducks and frittered coins on arcade machines I
came to the realization that this ‘just mates’ thing wasn’t working for me. If I was honest, it hadn’t been for a while.

The problem was what to do about it.

I still wasn’t sure now and it was almost a year on. During the months I hadn’t seen Sophie it had been easy to forget about all that, trick myself into believing it didn’t
mean anything. But we had spent enough time together this week for me to be pretty sure those feelings hadn’t gone away.

Sophie snorted with laughter. Bond had just sent one of his foes flying out of the back of the helicopter, with a typically cheesy one-liner.

‘Hey.’ She glanced across. ‘You didn’t laugh. You OK?’

‘Uh-huh,’ I said, with a big fake smile.

Sophie made a face at me. ‘Don’t look OK.’

I considered telling her. But what good would it do? The thought that I might be interested in her as more than a mate hadn’t even crossed her mind. And I
still
didn’t understand why
she’d cut me out of her life for so many months. Who was to say she wouldn’t do the same again?

When I woke up the next morning I wasn’t sure where I was. I could feel soft pillows around my head and smell sweetness in the air. As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes,
it came back to me. I was in Reece’s house, and I’d slept better than I had in a long while. I took my time showering, trying out each of the shower gels in the en suite, posh brands,
which, to my approval, were all free from animal testing.

I got out, wrapping myself in a huge fluffy towel that matched the light green tiles, and found myself thinking about Reece’s invitation to stay. It definitely showed he was happy to be
friends again – generally Reece didn’t do things he didn’t want to, and he wasn’t nice to people he didn’t like either.

I heard a knock on the door.

‘I am making you Oat So Simple,’ came Reece’s voice. ‘Your presence is required in the kitchen in five minutes.’

‘Ten!’ I shouted. Quickly I rubbed myself down and pulled on the denim shorts I’d been wearing most of the summer and a lightweight top. After a bit of make-up and a quick hair
brush I made my way downstairs. Reece was watching two bowls spin around in the microwave.

‘Perfect timing,’ he said without looking up. ‘The Oat So Simple is nearly fully formed and Mum and the poddling have just hit the shops. Wanna go down the cricket pitch later?
I’m playing in a T20.’

‘Sure,’ I said, taking a seat and pouring myself some apple juice. ‘It’s been too long since I saw you in action.’

The microwave pinged. Reece took out the bowls, brought them to the table and immediately started swathing his in golden syrup. I opened the local paper. It felt cosy and normal. Aiden and his
car could have been a million miles away.

When Reece and I arrived at Berkeley, there was already a decent crowd milling around, mostly enthusiastic parents and petulant-looking siblings, though there were a couple of
girls I guessed might be girlfriends. I found a decent spot by the pavilion and sat down, dumping my bag on the seat next to me. I spotted a couple of Reece’s friends, but they were too busy
limbering up to pay any attention to me.

Reece’s team lost the toss and were made to bowl. Reece turned and made a face at me – he was more of a batsman. I waved and gave him a big grin.

About ten overs into the game I heard ringing inside my bag. For a moment it puzzled me – it wasn’t a sound I recognized. Then I remembered that Reece had given me his phone to look
after before the match began. I took it out. The screen said, ‘Mum Calling’.

‘Hi, Effie,’ I said. ‘It’s Sophie. Reece is playing in a match right now.’

‘Oh. Of course, I forgot.’ She sounded flustered. A feeling of unease rose inside me. ‘Sophie, listen, could you get Reece to come home as soon as possible, please? I
wouldn’t normally ask, not when he’s playing, but I need him. We’ve been burgled!’

Having pictured the house turned upside down, when we got to Reece’s I was surprised. If it hadn’t been for Effie’s call and the police car outside, you
wouldn’t know that the house
had
been burgled.

‘Pretty crap burglars!’ Reece exclaimed, walking into the sitting room. ‘Flat-screen telly – still there! New computer – still there!’

‘Reece!’ Effie hurried through from the kitchen, a tearful-looking Neve behind her. A police officer followed. ‘I’m so glad you’re here; I can’t cope with
this by myself. I came back from Waitrose and found the conservatory window smashed! Sergeant Hill here thinks I might have disturbed whoever it was – they didn’t have the chance to
take much – but all the same. Burgled! In the middle of the day!’

I looked around. ‘Do we know what they took?’

‘Your mother’s still working that out,’ Sergeant Hill said. ‘Most of the intruder’s efforts seem to have been concentrated upstairs.’

‘She’s not my mother,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m Reece’s friend.’

‘Have they messed with my stuff?’ Reece asked, narrowing his eyes.

Effie reached out and gently pulled Neve away from him. ‘I’m afraid so. You’re not going to be too happy . . .’

Reece ran upstairs, dumping his cricket bag en route. I followed him. As I stepped on to the landing I heard an angry howl.

Reece’s room was a mess. The drawers had been emptied and were lying on their sides, his iPod had been snatched from it’s dock and his bedclothes were pulled across the floor. He
didn’t seem bothered by this. He was kneeling by the overturned bookshelf, cradling some old books that I realized were his dad’s annuals. Some of the pages were ripped and a couple of
covers had come off. Reece looked utterly crushed.

‘Oh, Reece!’ I went over and hugged him. Reece didn’t need to say how much the books meant to him – tracking the annuals down had been something Reece and his dad had
done together, travelling to second-hand bookshops and searching eBay. Reece had once said that these annuals brought back the good memories of his dad more vividly than anything else.

‘Bastards!’ Reece said. ‘Didn’t even nick them. Just tossed them on the floor like they were dumb old books that didn’t mean anything.’

‘The police will find the person who did this.’

Reece snorted. ‘Oh yeah? You got much faith in the police at the moment, Soph?’

I didn’t have any answer to that. After a while I managed to coax him into checking what else had been taken.

Surprisingly, the only things that seemed to have gone were his iPod and a watch that looked more expensive than it was.

‘It’s possible the burglar was looking around to see what was here,’ Hill said. We were back in the kitchen, sitting around the table with cups of tea. Reece hadn’t
touched his. I could feel him seething beside me. ‘That’s quite common,’ he continued. ‘They take a putty imprint from your spare keys, then return with a vehicle to
transport the big stuff – TVs and suchlike.’