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  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it.’ I breathed deeply and tried to imagine that I – no Laura – was a spy on a treacherous mission, forced to seduce an evil man in order to save her lover’s life. Then I crawled over to Dave, grabbed him by the shoulders and, as quickly as I could, gave him a hard smack of a kiss on the mouth. No tongues. No soft lips. Barely any contact. When I pulled back Dave looked dazed and a little annoyed.

  ‘That’s not a snog,’ Jessica griped.

  ‘Leave her alone, Jess,’ said Alex, her tone concerned. She could see how upset I looked. That only made me feel worse.

  ‘I think I’m going to go to bed now,’ I said, clambering up from the floor, before anyone could argue with my decision. ‘Goodnight everyone.’

  I managed to leave the room and make it halfway up the stairs before bursting into tears. About ten minutes later, Alex came up to see if I was all right, but I pretended I was already asleep.

  I lay awake for what felt like hours, staring into the dark, my mind racing. I heard the front door slam several times as people left, and there were low murmured voices when Alex’s parents arrived home. At some point Alex came to bed and, exhausted, fell asleep almost at once.

  At about three a.m., I remembered that I’d turned off my mobile phone hours earlier, without listening to my voicemail. I tiptoed into the bathroom and switched it back on, hoping that it wouldn’t wake Alex. There was a text from Katie, three message alerts and about a dozen missed calls. Katie’s text read Cl me now!!! She hadn’t ended it with kisses, which was unusual and rather an ominous sign. She was probably still annoyed with me. I glanced at my watch. It was far too late to call. I’d have to wait until the morning.

  Next, I called my voicemail. Jack had left all three messages. It felt both weird and duplicitous to be listening to his voice in Alex’s house. Alex had lived there all her life. He must have stood in that bathroom, he’d probably used that toilet and that sink. I wondered if rooms remembered sounds, if they absorbed voices. They do in those ghost-hunting shows on TV; you can buy special equipment which records the ghostly voices captured within the plaster.

  The tone of Jack’s first message was warm and friendly: ‘Hi Lily, it’s me. I know you’re with Katie tonight but I wanted to ask you about something. Hope you’re having a brilliant time. Give me a call when you get a sec.’

  In the second message, recorded about an hour later, he sounded irritated: ‘Why aren’t you answering your phone, Lil? I must have rung about six times. Have you put it on silent? Please call me back.’

  The last message made my stomach lurch, horribly: ‘I’m worried now,’ said Jack, his voice a mixture of anxiety and barely contained anger. ‘You’ve switched your phone off and it’s going straight to voicemail. Is everything OK? I’m going to call Katie.’

  Chapter 18

  Alex and I both awoke early on Sunday morning, despite having had very little sleep. I think Alex was still high on adrenalin from her party and excited about Ben. I couldn’t rest for all the competing thoughts in my head: thoughts about what had happened the night before, about having to deceive Alex and, most pressing of all, about Jack. Why had Jack rung Katie and, more worrying, what had she told him? When could I get away to call her?

  I didn’t feel comfortable lying (in both senses of the word) in a strange bed, in an unfamiliar bedroom. I looked over at Alex and acknowledged how little I knew her, and how she didn’t know me at all, and it made me sad. When you sleep alongside another person it creates a sense of intimacy, and this only served to make me feel more of a fake than ever. Pretending to be someone else is a lonely job, even though you do have two voices competing in your head. I wanted to be at home, in my own bed, where I could be Lily, just plain Lily.

  ‘Laura?’ Alex said quietly, when she noticed me stirring. A tiny chink of light was peeking through the curtains and I could just make out her face, her new hairstyle messed up and sticking to her cheeks.

  ‘Uh-huh?’

  ‘I’m sorry about last night.’

  ‘It’s OK, it wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘Well, I knew you were upset about Jared. I shouldn’t have made you play with us.’

  ‘Honestly, it’s OK.’ Stop being so nice, I thought, I don’t deserve it.

  ‘Did you enjoy yourself, apart from that?’

  ‘Yes, it was a great party. Did you?’

  She grinned. ‘Absolutely. I had a fantastic time. I’m not looking forward to clearing up, though.’

  Please don’t ask me to stay and help, I thought. I want to get out of here. I need to get out of here. What I said was, ‘Well, I can help for a bit,’ and hoped for once that she could tell I didn’t mean it. ‘I promised Mum and Dad I’d come home and do my coursework.’

  ‘Hey, no, you’re a guest. I don’t expect you to. Jess and a few other people are coming back later to help – it’s all arranged.’

  ‘OK, cool. So, what’s with you and Ben . . .’

  ‘Me and Ben, what?’

  ‘You know what I mean! So what’s the score? Are you seeing each other now?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, wistfully. ‘I guess we’ll have to see what happens.’

  ‘But you like him?’

  ‘I think so. Yes.’

  ‘He seems nice. I didn’t get to talk to him much, but I think he’s cute and I can tell he’s into you.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘I’m still not sure if I want a relationship.’

  ‘But it’s been well over a year since you and Jack split up.’

  She paused. Her brow furrowed and I thought that she gave me a weirdly intense stare, although maybe it was just the way the shaft of light was hitting her face. ‘True,’ she said, eventually. ‘But you know what it’s like when you really love someone. It’s not that easy to get them out of your head.’

  ‘I don’t think Jared and I were as serious as you were,’ I said, trying to downplay my imaginary relationship.

  ‘That’s trash. I saw how upset you were last night.’

  ‘Nah, it was the punch. And PMT. I get a bit weepy before my period. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Me too, I guess.’ She didn’t sound convinced. ‘So did you find out what he wanted when he called?’

  I’d forgotten that she’d been with me when Jack had rung. ‘No. I switched off my phone and then deleted his messages,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to talk to him.’

  ‘You know, you might be better off talking to him and hearing what he has to say,’ she said, her voice soft with caution. ‘Even if you don’t want to get back with him, at least you’ll have said everything you want to say, and it will be over properly, with no more ifs and buts. I wish I’d done that with Jack. There was tons of stuff we didn’t sort out, you know? He tried to call me for months, but I wouldn’t take his calls. I was too upset, and everyone told me I was better off trying to move on with my life. But ever since, I’ve been wondering how he is and what he’s doing, and whether he has any regrets. Sometimes, I wonder whether we could have worked things out, if I’d just let him have his say.’

  ‘Really?’ I asked. Facts that for weeks had made no sense to me were now becoming clear. I hadn’t understood why Jack had told me that Alex dumped him, when I knew he had initiated the break-up. But it made perfect sense if he’d instantly regretted his decision and wanted Alex back, and she didn’t want to know; he’d see that as a final rejection, wouldn’t he? In his eyes, she would have been the one who finished the relationship for good.

  ‘Really?’ I said again. I swallowed hard. I could tell Alex, I thought. I could tell her everything. I could put her out of her misery. I could say, ‘It’s obvious Jack really loved you because he’s as cut up about all this as you are; he can’t even bear it when I mention your name. I could say, he’s so full of pain and regret that he’s convinced himself you finished with him, when I know it’s the other way around. And, I hate to admit it, but I still don’t think he’s completely over you either. Hell, I thought, I cou
ld even give you his phone number and his new address. I could invite you both round at the same time and engineer it so you get back together. Maybe that’ll be my penance for lying to you both . . .’

  ‘Yeah,’ Alex said. ‘Ben’s great and all, but he isn’t Jack. I can’t get Jack out of my head. I only wish I could turn back the clock.’

  She reached into her bedside drawer and removed something. I couldn’t make out what it was, but it sparkled when the light caught it. ‘He gave me this,’ she said, leaning over to show me. ‘I can’t wear it, but I haven’t had the heart to throw it out.’

  It was a gold bracelet, decorated with tiny charms that jangled pleasingly when they knocked against each other. I caught a glimpse of a little dog, a football, a horseshoe and a heart, before Alex took the bracelet back again and replaced it in her drawer. It seemed that she didn’t feel comfortable holding it. ‘He gave me a charm for each month of our relationship,’ she said. ‘There are twenty-five altogether. Every month, he’d buy me a new one. Isn’t that lovely?’

  ‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘It’s gorgeous.’ Did Jack give all his girlfriends bracelets? Was it his M.O.? I pictured the bracelet Jack had given me and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it wasn’t half as special as Alex’s. I’m not talking about how much it cost, but of the sentimental value, the thought that had gone into it. There was no contest: he’d liked her more than he would ever like me. I’d always known it, really. It was sad, but there was nothing I could do about it.

  ‘What exactly happened with him, Alex? Please tell me,’ I asked. Perhaps it was a brave question, or a stupid one, but it was the reason I was there, after all, and I had a feeling that if she didn’t open up now, she never would.

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ she said, her tone uncertain. ‘I haven’t really told anyone. Only Jess, and my mum.’

  ‘Don’t then.’ Did I sound annoyed, rather than concerned? ‘I mean, only tell me if it will help.’

  ‘Maybe it will make me feel better about things,’ she said. She sighed.

  I felt my pulse quicken. Finally, finally, I was going to learn the truth and then all the deceit would have been worth it.

  She pulled the duvet tight up to her neck, swaddling herself like a baby. ‘There’s no point dressing it up. We broke up because he hit me.’

  I was so shocked it was almost as if someone had hit me too. I felt winded, unable to breathe or speak. For a moment I even thought I might pass out. I heard a little voice in my head repeating, ‘Pull yourself together, Lily, pull yourself together.’ How would a normal person react? They’d say something, wouldn’t they?

  I managed to squeak out: ‘Oh my God!’

  I don’t know what I’d expected Alex to tell me, but it wasn’t this. Not in a billion, trillion years. Jack couldn’t have hit her; he was gentle, he didn’t like violence, he’d tried to protect his mum. Surely she meant Jack’s dad had hit her, not Jack? At the same instant I had the thought, I knew that it couldn’t have been him – he’d been off the scene years before Jack and Alex met. Maybe I had misheard? What other word sounded like hit? Bit? Spit?

  ‘He hit you? Are you sure?’ What a stupid thing to ask. Of course she was sure.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. She sat up in bed, still cloaked in the duvet. ‘It was horrible.’ She was absorbed by her own memories and unaware of my apparent overreaction to her words. I wanted to sob and run out of the room but I knew I had to hold it together. I couldn’t allow her to see how upset I was. I wasn’t supposed to know Jack; I wasn’t supposed to care.

  I swallowed hard. ‘Had he done it before?’ I asked.

  ‘God no. It was a one off.’

  That, at least, was a relief. ‘So what happened?’

  ‘It was over another guy, a friend of mine called Dom. He wasn’t here tonight, we’re not friends anymore. Basically, Dom and I got really close at school, just good mates, but Jack didn’t like it. There was nothing going on, at least not for me, but I think Dom started to get the wrong idea and one night we got a bit carried away and we ended up kissing. I stopped it and told him it couldn’t happen again. It didn’t mean anything at all, not to me, anyway. I told Jack because I wanted to be honest. He sort of forgave me, except, after that, he became really jealous and possessive. It wasn’t just Dom, it was like he didn’t want me to see anyone else, or spend time with anyone else. If he couldn’t get hold of me, he’d panic and leave loads of messages. He’d never been like that before . . .’

  I shivered, even though I was wrapped snugly in my sleeping bag. Jack hadn’t been able to get hold of me last night. Why had he called, anyway? Was it a sign that he was starting to become jealous and possessive of me too? What if he’d found out he couldn’t trust me? My urge to leave Alex’s house was growing stronger by the minute. It had to find out what Katie had told Jack. Ironic, isn’t it, how I’d waited for months for Alex to tell me this story and now that I was finally hearing it, I didn’t want to stick around to listen to the details?

  Oblivious, Alex continued. ‘We started having rows, about stupid things, mainly. And then, one night we ended up arguing about Dom and I got so worked up I told Jack I wished I was with him – Dom – instead because it would be less hassle. He was so incensed he grabbed me by my wrists. He was hurting me and so I tried to push him away and wriggle free. And then he totally lost it and he hit me. It wasn’t like he was trying to hurt me, he just lashed out and he caught me on my cheek with the side of his hand, sending me flying. I was so surprised that it didn’t even really hurt at first. I was in shock, I think. He tried to see if I was OK but I wouldn’t let him come near me. I told him he was just like his father – his dad used to hit his mum, you see – and that he should go home. He was mortified. He kept saying sorry, again and again. He was crying more than me.’

  She gasped for air. She’d said all of this in virtually one breath. ‘He called me later and apologised again. He asked if he could come round to talk. I hadn’t even had time to process what had happened yet, you know? But he’d made up his mind. He said I was right: he was like his dad, and he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t do it again. He said I was too good for him and that I deserved better. He told me he loved me, that he’d always love me, but it was over and there was nothing I could say to change his mind. He broke my heart.’

  While she was telling me what had happened, I felt I was watching it play out in front of me, like a movie – no, like I was in the room with Jack and Alex. I could see Jack’s face and hear his voice, I could even smell his aftershave. I knew the expression he’d be wearing, how he’d be shuffling from foot to foot and chewing his lip. I could see everything except the part where Jack hit Alex; that didn’t seem possible.

  She was still talking. ‘I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened; I thought we could sort it out. I had a big bruise so I told everybody that I’d hurt myself playing football – you know, that I was whacked in the face by the ball. Of course, Mum guessed and I couldn’t lie to her. She said that if a guy ever hits you, even once, then you should get out straight away. She said however sorry Jack was, however lovely he was most of the time, it didn’t matter. Jess said the same thing. So, when Jack started calling again the following week, asking if we could meet up to talk, I said no, he was right, splitting up was for the best. He pleaded with me to give him another chance, to hear him out, at least, but Mum and Jess were telling me not to, and I was so confused, so I said no, even though I really wanted to. He was about to move house again, to another area – he moved around a lot – so it seemed like the right time to end it too, Mum said. I was only sixteen, it was all much too heavy for me. After about a month, Jack stopped calling. He moved away and I haven’t heard from him since. I actually tried to ring him once – about six months ago – but I got number not recognised. He must have changed his mobile number.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, that’s why it’s so hard for me to even think about having another relationship.’

  I nodded. ‘I bet,’ I said,
my voice barely louder than a whisper. It wasn’t much of a response. Again, I asked myself, how would a normal, objective person react to this story, somebody who wasn’t overwhelmed, confused and even a little bit frightened by it? I thought of the confessional shows on daytime TV and I tried to pretend that I was the host, and that Alex had just told me her gut-wrenching life story on a show. What would I say? There would be ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ from the audience, and they would applaud her for being so brave. Then I would turn to her and say something like: ‘You’ve clearly been through a difficult time, but you’ve come out on the other side, stronger and wiser.’

  ‘It must have been so hard,’ is what I finally said. I didn’t want to sound like I was reading an autocue. ‘Wow. I had no idea.’

  It seemed adequate. Alex smiled. ‘It’s in the past. I don’t think about it so much any more.’

  Not for me, it isn’t, I thought. Jack is my present. I need to get out of here so I can find out what’s going on with him.

  What I said was: ‘Then I think you should give Ben a chance. He could be just what you need.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  We both sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbed in our own thoughts. Finally, when I thought it wouldn’t be rude to change the subject, I asked, ‘What’s the time?’

  ‘It’s only nine o’clock.’

  ‘Only it’s just that I said I’d be home by eleven.’

  ‘Oh right. Let’s get up then. What do you fancy for breakfast? Hey, I know there are a few cupcakes left.’

  The thought of gooey, sickly sweet icing made me want to throw up. ‘I’m not hungry,’ I said, climbing out of my sleeping bag without unzipping it. ‘Honestly, don’t worry about me. Have breakfast after I’ve gone.’

  She appeared disappointed. Was it too obvious that I was trying to get away? ‘No worries.’