The Roommates

by Rachel Sargeant

  “Did he get back all right?” Phoenix asks.

  Tegan folds her arms and shrugs. “Suppose so.”

  Phoenix raises her eyebrows. Surely Tegan phoned to make sure the stalker returned her baby brother? Phoenix has no siblings, but she likes to know where the younger kids are when they’re touring. Families look out for each other.

  “I’m steering clear,” Tegan says. She must see the surprise on Phoenix’s face and adds: “It’s best for Kanya. Dad will play happy families for a few weeks then beggar off to London. I’ll get in touch then.”

  Phoenix nods and it dawns on her that, despite Tegan’s bad mood, something’s shifted. She refers to her stepmother as Kanya now. But Phoenix is still uneasy. How can Tegan be sure the hired thug returned Dylan safely?

  “How long has Marlon worked for your father?” she asks.

  “He took Dylan home if that’s what’s bugging you. He’s back here now. Look.” She pulls Phoenix by her shoulders through a gap in the queue. “Can you see out there? Keep looking.”

  Phoenix watches the busy foyer, for a moment stepping out of the queue as it shuffles up. Then she spots him. Man in black, hood up, take-away coffee, mobile to his ear. She gives Tegan a sympathetic sigh. What words of comfort do you give a girl whose father has sent a minder to watch her every move? It’s only because he cares? Bollocks, she can’t say that. Phoenix’s parents care but they let her go her way, always have. Real love, even after Cloud’s accident.

  Glancing into the foyer again, Phoenix senses someone looking her way. Expecting Marlon and pretending she’s not intimidated, she makes eye contact. But it’s not with Marlon – no sign of him now. The person watching is petite with dark hair in a ponytail. The Parents’ Group woman from the Freshers’ Fair. Phoenix thinks of smiling but the eye lock has gone on too long. She presses her palms under her armpits and feels the dampness on her fingers.

  Eventually the woman slips her gaze. Phoenix is relieved until she realizes she’s shifted it onto Tegan, frowning as if she’s working something out. What if she recognizes Tegan from the fake Facebook profile? Though it hardly matters. Tegan and Dylan won’t be attending the Parents’ Group any time soon. She wants to nudge Tegan but figures the woman is off limits as much as Imo. Both led to her gaining Dylan and losing him again.

  Suddenly the woman’s puzzled expression changes and she hurries away, leaving Phoenix to make sense of the flash of anger she saw in her face.

  Eventually, Phoenix and Tegan move forward in the queue, near enough to the reception desks to hear what’s said.

  “Have you got your Accountancy assignment too?” one of the secretaries asks.

  “I haven’t got one, have I?” Grey uni hoodie, crumpled jeans, wavering voice. Imo is at the front.

  “It says here, you’re due to hand in German for Dr Wyatt and Accounting for Mr Hennessy.”

  Phoenix expects Tegan to make a sarcastic comment about Imo’s incompetence, but she pushes her way to the woman’s desk, frowning. “We weren’t set an Accountancy paper.” She turns towards the crowd. “Do any of you do Business Studies?”

  A few nods, a wave, a couple of “Yeah”s.

  “Did Hennessy set us an Accountancy assignment?”

  Vigorous headshakes. A chorus of “Nope”s.

  “Looks like the Business Studies department made a cock-up,” Tegan tells the secretary.

  “Thanks,” Imo says, but Tegan looks away.

  The secretary smiles apologetically. “They’re academics; they’re not expected to get things quite right.”

  Phoenix catches Imo’s arm as she leaves. “Time for a coffee?”

  Imo lifts her bloodshot eyes and manages a smile. “Okay, but I have a lecture at eleven.”

  “Tegan, will you join us?” Phoenix calls.

  Tegan gives a firm head shake, causing her thick locks to bounce on her shoulders, and reaches the reception desk. She doesn’t look round.

  Chapter 49

  Phoenix

  Phoenix wishes there was time to go back to the flat for a drink instead of coming to a campus coffee shop. Imo’s appearance might put other customers off their latte. The lank strands of hair that poke out of her sweatshirt hood could fry chips, and the corners of her eyes are crusty.

  Phoenix pulls out a clean tissue. “Do you mind if I just …”

  Imo closes her eyes while Phoenix dabs the worst of the crud off them.

  “You remind me of my mother,” she speaks awkwardly as Phoenix grips her chin. “When I want to go out, it’s like getting through airport security. Worse since … Doesn’t matter. Do you know what it’s like to sleep badly?”

  “Not every night,” Phoenix answers. Some winters in the caravan it’s hard to sleep even with the heater on. “Have you phoned your mum lately?” That’s what Imo needs, a heart-to-heart with family. Phoenix phones Cloud most days and they text all the time.

  “What would I say?” Imo rubs her eye.

  They stare into the drinks. Phoenix suspects Imo’s mood is down to her argument with Tegan. The flat’s walls are thin and she heard what Tegan said yesterday. No point in broaching the subject; even if she could talk Imo round, Tegan is still fuming.

  Imo rests her head in her hands. “Everything’s pointless; we all die anyway.”

  Phoenix’s heart rate increases and she looks around her. Animated students sit at other tables, chatting, texting, eating. No one’s watching but she sees Imo through others’ eyes. The girl is struggling, needs help. Phoenix feels out of her depth.

  “Have you ever talked to … someone about how you feel?”

  “The welfare reps say, ‘Tell me your problems, I’m here to help,’ but they don’t listen. I wanted to talk about Amber but the woman started asking about me.”

  “It might help though.” Phoenix peers over her cup. “To talk with a … professional.”

  Tears trickle over Imo’s uneven, red skin. “How can they work me out when I’ve never worked myself out? Have you noticed when you see a big Celebrations tin on a coffee table, it never contains chocolates? It’s stuffed with scissors or elastic bands. That’s what it’s like inside my life.”

  “What about your mother then?” Phoenix brings the conversation back to where she started, clutching at straws. “Maybe you’re right about counsellors but your mum knows you.”

  Imo rubs her eyes and peers through her fingers. “My mother has three children, but is consumed by one of them, and it isn’t me.”

  Phoenix sighs. Sibling rivalry. She wasn’t expecting this.

  “Not like that. I’m not jealous.” Imo forces out a laugh. “We’re all consumed by Sophia. Always will be, I suppose, until we know.” She swallows. “That’s why I worry about Amber.”

  Here we go. Phoenix rubs her mouth, contemplating what to say. Decides it best to let her talk. Get Amber out of her system.

  “If she turned up right as rain, I’d have more questions than she could ever answer. I’ve had night after night to wonder, to make up my own what-ifs. Could I cope with the betrayal? I want her to be fine, I love her, but might end up hating her if it turned out she left of her own accord.” She looks up, her eyes hungry for reassurance. “I’m not mad, am I?”

  Phoenix takes a breath as she sees what’s been in plain sight ever since she met Imo. This isn’t about Amber, not really. “Who do you mean?”

  Imo blinks out tears. “Sophia, my big sister.” She struggles to control her voice. “We reported her missing on my eighteenth birthday. Strictly speaking, the next day because it was long after midnight when Dad made the call. She was supposed to come back from university to take me and my friends out clubbing. Mum was furious when she didn’t turn up. Didn’t think we’d be safe on our own. We waited until ten and finally persuaded Mum to let us go without her.” She looks directly at Phoenix. “Did you see the appeals? BBC, ITN and the others.”

  “I don’t think so …” Between circus performances and faulty electricity generators, she doesn�
��t see much TV in the caravan. Even term time at Carla and Antonio’s she was head down with revision. Her skin heats with shame; her own family secret pales next to Imo’s.

  “And you’ve heard nothing since?” she asks gently.

  “There were several sightings at Nottingham railway station on my birthday so it looked like she intended to catch a train to my party. Police thought it was down to three possibilities: something happened at the station; on the train; or when she arrived at our end. But they never found anyone who saw her on a train. They wasted ten days until a young woman came forward who matched the CCTV images they thought were Sophia at Nottingham. The sightings had all been mistaken identity. The police interviewed Sophia’s flatmates again in her hall of residence and it emerged that no one had actually seen her for at least three days before Dad reported her missing.” She wipes her eyes. “Police say the first twenty-four hours after the last sighting are the Golden Time. We discovered our gold was base metal. Police know less now than when they started.”

  Suddenly she’s on her feet and pacing, oblivious to curious looks from two girls at the next table. “I can’t find Sophia, but Amber’s trail is fresher. What if she’s in danger? Will I let her down too?”

  Without thinking, Phoenix stands up and takes her hands. “Listen to me. You’re exhausted. Go back to the flat after your lecture and get some sleep. I’ll help you with this, I promise. We’ll find Amber together.”

  Phoenix watches her trail out for her lecture. With any luck, afterwards, she’ll sleep through until the morning and Phoenix will have had time to think of how the hell she can keep her promise.

  Chapter 50

  Imogen

  The seat nearest the door of the Accounting lecture room is empty. Imo puts her stuff on the desk but has to stand up to let the class nerd through. He knocks her mobile with his rucksack as he brushes past. Imo catches it before it spins onto the floor, doesn’t expect an apology and doesn’t get one.

  When Tegan appears, she stands up again to let her sit in the row, but Tegan walks to the back of the lecture theatre without acknowledging her.

  Hennessey arrives ten minutes late, manages a “Hi, guys” into his briefcase. He can’t find what he wants and pulls the contents onto the empty desk beside Imo’s. A dab of bloodied tissue sticks on his jawline and his pale blue collar is speckled with red. Among the printed sheets and what looks like students’ Accounts homework, Imo spots a handwritten page. She studies the title out of her eye corner. Death of a Dying Rose. A poem? He shoves everything back into the briefcase apart from another handwritten sheet – too scrappy for Imo to read – which he takes to the whiteboard and copies from it in red marker pen.

  “Profit and loss accounts …” He addresses his crib sheet rather than the students.

  As hard as she tries, Imo realizes she’s only deciphering every fifth phrase. Elbows on the desk, she pushes her fingers under her hood. They slide easily through her greasy hair. Has it only been three days since the trip with Tegan to Wales? She screwed up. So absorbed in her pursuit of Amber, she lost sight of how much Tegan was hurting. She knew from the first day of term Tegan wouldn’t want to be her friend, but it’s worse than she predicted. Tegan isn’t just ignoring her; she hates her.

  “The balance sheet is a snapshot of …” Hennessey points at the board.

  Imo rests her hands in the front pocket of her sweatshirt. Two weeks in and Tegan’s found her out. Grow up, Imogen. And what Phoenix said this morning about promising to help. Something to humour her, along with Go to bed after your lecture. Phoenix is friends with Tegan, not her. She blinks hard; she’s on her own.

  ***

  It’s the after-school, tea-time rush and the restaurant is packed when Imo gets to Chadcombe. But she can’t leave it any later if she wants to catch the last train back. She aims to return to Abbeythorpe by midnight. Little chance of seeing Phoenix for the talk she promised. Good; she prefers Tegan’s open scorn to Phoenix’s condescension, only saying she’ll help find Amber to pacify her.

  Harassed-looking staff speed across the dining floor. Should she take a window seat in the take-away area? As she resigns herself to a long wait, a waitress appears. She’s dressed in a uniform like the one Imo saw Jade Murphy wearing the previous week, except the waitress’s shirt is red and hangs off her skinny shoulders. Jade’s was purple and showed off her figure.

  “How many of you?” The waitress takes a menu out of the stand. “Just the one? If you’d like to follow me.” She takes her across the busy restaurant to a table for two next to the toilets. Wedged behind a larger table where two mums are feeding bolognaise and pizza slices into assorted children.

  “Welcome to Pizza Pedro. I’m Tasey and I’ll be looking after you.” The waitress has also squeezed through the gap and launches into her spiel. Imo’s seat and the toilet door match Tasey’s shirt. “We have a buffet and a specials board.” She waves her arms like an air stewardess identifying safety exits. “Your choices include: Pasta Paradiso, Simply Spaghetti and Pedro’s Perfecto. There’s also—”

  “I’ll have a margarita,” Imo says. “And a Coke. Is Jade here this afternoon, the manager?”

  “In the kitchen; we’ve had a late delivery. I’ll see if she can serve you.” Tasey scurries away before it dawns on Imo she must think she’s requested to see the manager to complain about something. Poor kid. Imo senses a kindred spirit.

  A few minutes later Jade approaches with her pizza and steps aside to let the mums vacate their table and retrieve a pushchair. “Thanks for coming. Have a lovely evening.” Her smile fades when she sees that her new customer is Imo. “What are you doing here? Did you request to see me?”

  Imo apologizes for disturbing her at work. “I want to ask you about your neighbour. You mentioned her to my friends when you collected Amber’s things.”

  Jade puts down the pizza. “Then you’ve come a long way for nothing. Thanks to my so-called sister …” She remembers where she is and whispers, “I haven’t seen Cheryl for years.”

  Imo pulls out the other chair. “Two minutes, please.”

  “That’s all I can spare.” She sits down. There’s a definite kink in the hair she’s scooped into a ponytail. No time for the straighteners that Mrs Murphy disapproves of.

  “How well did you know your neighbour?”

  “She was my friend more than Amber’s. We were closer in age although she was a good bit older than me. Amber had been kicking off for months, ever since Dad died. I used to confide in Cheryl. A bitch fest really, but I could hardly mouth off to my mum, could I? Then Amber spoils everything. Cheryl was thrilled to announce her pregnancy but then the kid next door gets knocked up too, stealing her thunder. To her credit, she took Amber under her wing when Mum couldn’t cope. But there was no time to hang out with me. Amber’s needs got in the way of mine as usual.”

  Tasey comes to the table, apologizes for the interruption and says Jade’s required on the phone. Imo moves her face into a friendly smile, not wanting to upset the waitress again even though she’s ticked off at her timing.

  Her pizza’s already been cut into sectors and Imo eats a slice with her fingers. She’s hungry, realizing this is the first thing she’s eaten all day. It’s a long way to come for food, but it looks like food is all she’ll get. Jade’s at the bar, cradling the phone to her ear while interrogating a computer screen.

  To her surprise, Jade returns after a few minutes and sits down. “Not only was my sister drunk, stoned and running wild every night, she ruined my friendship with Cheryl. Mum had to go on sleeping pills. She hadn’t needed those when Dad first died, but Amber’s antics made her a nervous wreck. The only good thing about her fake pregnancy stunt was she stayed away from Verity and her bridge crowd cronies.”

  Verity? Known as Vee? The girl Imo met at Chadcombe Bridge with Tegan? Staggering, incoherent, arms etched with five-bar gates. Said she knew Amber, but would have known Taylor Swift if Tegan paid her enough. Imo remembers somethi
ng she said.

  “Who’s Leo?”

  Jade stares at her for a moment and lets out a big sigh. “Amber kept that going, did she? She went back to her pisshead phase after she’d destroyed us with the fake baby scam. Mum thought she was settling down, but I wasn’t surprised when she started up again. She’d forgotten what being normal was by then.” Jade pauses, as if losing her thread.

  “Leo?” Imo prompts.

  Jade shrugs. “A name Amber rambled in her drunken stupors. No doubt another ‘friend’ from the bridge.” Jade snaps her hands in the air in angry inverted commas.

  There’s a crash and the sound of shattering glass. The restaurant noise lulls and two boys applaud until their mother shushes them and conversations continue. Red-faced, Tasey squats on the floor, picking shards out of a brown puddle.

  Jade jumps up. “Let me do that. You get the mop, love.” Her tone is kind. Kinder than when she talks about Amber.

  “One last question,” Imo says, thinking how much easier it would be if Tegan let her access the Facebook profile. “What did your neighbour look like?”

  “Cheryl? Dark hair, slim, fairly small. Why?” But she doesn’t wait for an answer and goes to help Tasey.

  Chapter 51

  Phoenix

  Hoping that Imo’s finally asleep, Phoenix doesn’t call on her when she gets back from her lecture. Would helping her give false hope? About her sister as well as Amber? Unable to face her, she goes straight to her room and googles Sophia Smith.

  Oh God. Hundreds of hits. And images. A pale-skinned graduate with Imo’s blue eyes. And a couple in their forties huddled outside a railway station. The same couple flanked by police officers at a press conference. And several out-of-focus shots of a girl and boy, always hidden in hooded coats or sweatshirts. More than likely Imo and her brother. No wonder the poor kid is obsessed with Amber. Can’t contemplate another loss. Phoenix closes down the search, unable to bear the knowledge of Imo’s pain.