The Wrong Move

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The Wrong Move Page 20

by Jennifer Savin


  ‘Definitely!’

  She began moving the mound of clothes from the leather chair, then signalled royally to it.

  ‘Take a seat. I found this at a car boot sale for a tenner – not bad, eh?’

  Jessie shut her eyes as Lauren blended a golden-brown powder over her lids, taking the time to think more about what she might want to say to Matthew later. The make-up brush tickled but the majority of her swelling had gone down now, so at least it no longer hurt to apply make-up. She was healing. Jessie could smell the chewing gum in Lauren’s mouth; it was a sweeter kind of mint than the brand she kept in her own handbag. Less medicinal.

  ‘This is so fun for me, therapeutic almost. It’s like getting to paint a picture on someone’s face.’

  Lauren hummed as she worked, layering up creams and gels on Jessie’s eyelids, cheeks and, finally, lips.

  ‘I’ll do your hair too. Just make sure you keep your eyes shut the entire time, otherwise you’ll spoil it.’

  She could hear Lauren tidying up as she went, putting things into drawers and opening the wardrobe once or twice. Lauren made sure to explain each step of the process, even when she used heated irons to create soft waves at the back of Jessie’s head – not that Jessie was really taking any of it in. She pinned lengths of her hair up into a makeshift messy bob.

  ‘Open your eyes.’

  Jessie looked in the mirror Lauren was holding up for her. Suddenly she had deftly sculpted cheekbones that made her appear harsher, edgier and the cat flick of eyeliner was so precise she was compelled to pull the mirror closer to inspect it. Shimmers of highlighter had been placed along the upper arches of her eyebrows and on the end of her nose. They caught the light when Jessie turned her head.

  ‘How have you managed this?’ she gawped, wide-eyed, not quite able to believe the reflection she was seeing. Her face had changed entirely; she could barely recognise herself.

  ‘We look like twins,’ Lauren laughed, smoothing down a piece of Jessie’s fringe again. ‘Let’s take some replacement snaps for my wall.’

  She laughed again, a deep laugh that crawled its way out of her belly, and clapped her hands together gleefully, admiring her handiwork.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  They stayed in Lauren’s bedroom for a couple of hours, Jessie curled up in the leather chair, touching her face every few minutes in disbelief, Lauren idly painting at her easel and controlling the playlist.

  ‘I need to head off,’ Jessie said eventually, heaving herself up and out of the chair. ‘I’ve arranged to meet Priya.’

  A smear of make-up had rubbed off on the chair’s high curved back, where her cheek had leant against it. The afternoon had passed by with the speed of a freight train.

  ‘What was that?’ Lauren asked, peering out from behind the canvas.

  ‘I’ve arranged to catch up with Priya tonight,’ Jessie repeated, heading to the door, smiling to Lauren as she did. ‘I’m glad you’re okay.’

  Lauren put the paintbrush down.

  ‘I’m not really,’ she said, suddenly quiet and serious.

  Jessie wavered. Lauren had seemed fine only a minute ago and hadn’t mentioned Magda at all for the last few hours. But, Jessie considered, whereas Lauren had surprisingly implied she was a bit of an expert on grief, Jessie had only ever spent her life living in fear of it. Her grandparents had either died before she was born or were still alive and well. The most loss she’d suffered was the odd family pet. Not knowing the ‘appropriate’ response to this situation, she would have to follow Lauren’s lead.

  ‘You’re not okay, do you mean?’ she asked.

  Lauren shook her head vigorously in response.

  ‘I’m not okay at all.’

  She stepped away from the easel.

  ‘Can you please just stay here? I really don’t want to be alone.’ Her voice was high, almost pleading. ‘I hate being on my own.’

  A pang of guilt struck Jessie. She already felt bad for keeping a huge secret from Lauren, pretending she knew practically nothing about Magda when in reality they’d arranged to meet. But still, Jessie needed to speak to Priya about how to approach Matthew. She was torn.

  ‘Is Sofie coming back tonight? I’m sure she would if you asked her to,’ she tried to reason. ‘I can ring her now, or Marcus. You and him both knew Magda far better than I did. I never actually met her.’

  There hadn’t been a need for her to add that last part on. Lauren looked at Jessie strangely, clearly thinking the same thing.

  ‘I know you didn’t, but you do know me,’ she pushed again. ‘Can’t you tell I’m upset? You’re my best friend, Jessie, and I really need you to stay with me tonight. I can’t stand the thought of being left alone.’

  Lauren’s mouth wobbled as she spoke and Jessie’s hand hovered over the door handle, unsure what she should do with herself. It had to be Priya she spoke to about Matthew because she needed advice from somebody who knew their history and could verify her own memories of it. She could meet her just for an hour, then come straight back? Jessie was also desperate to talk about Magda without having to be on guard over her words. She submerged Lauren in a hug.

  ‘I promise to be so speedy you won’t even realise I’ve gone.’

  Lauren clutched her tightly back. After a few seconds Jessie tried to wriggle free, but the vice-like grip only became stronger, like a tightening belt. Then the prison slackened and Jessie slipped out, a little breathless. Lauren’s eyes were vacant.

  ‘Sure, just go then,’ she sighed. ‘I see where your loyalties lie.’

  It was a comment designed to make Jessie feel awful. She’d vowed to be a good friend but was about to do the opposite by leaving.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Lauren, it’s just that I want to speak to Priya about my ex-boyfriend. The one I told you about when we were watching the music channel downstairs. Do you remember?’ Jessie felt a familiar sensation of remorse mixed with dread as she spoke.

  It was the same feeling that Matthew used to give her, whenever they argued and he told her that all the bad things that had happened in his life were her fault.

  ‘Why can’t you talk to me about that?’ Lauren asked, her nostrils flaring.

  The music on her laptop finished but Lauren didn’t move to queue a new selection of tracks. They both heard Marcus enter the flat downstairs, dump his bag on the hallway floor and head into the kitchen.

  ‘I can, and I know we can talk about anything. It’s just that Priya actually knows him so she understands the situation better,’ Jessie explained as patiently as she could.

  Lauren shrugged defeatedly and looked at her feet, uncomfortable with how much emotion she’d let herself disclose. When would she learn that when she acted in that way it scared people? She was desperate not to lose Jessie as well. Having her close by helped to silence some of the snickering voices in her head that jabbed and teased, telling her she had no true friends, that nobody earned for her. The stress of Magda’s death was making them louder than ever.

  ‘Sometimes a fresh perspective is good, but I get it. Don’t worry about me, I’ll just stay here and paint,’ she mumbled, closing her eyes.

  Jessie checked her watch and gave Lauren one last quick hug. She was running late and would have to catch the next bus if she were to make it to Priya’s for seven.

  She slammed the front door shut and bounced down the steps, glad that the bus stop was only a short walk away. It was still early enough to mean she could avoid sharing the journey with hyperbolic groups of students, hiding half-drunk cans inside their coats. Their chants and catcalls put her on edge nowadays. As she walked, Jessie became aware of a second set of footsteps behind her. She instinctively tightened the grasp around her phone and took a sharp intake of breath, as though she were about to have her head dunked under water. Act normal. That sound of footsteps was familiar. She waited for them to overtake her but instead, they halted right behind her.

  ‘Do you have a minute?’

  Jessie froze
, then turned her head around. It was Marcus. Had he been following her? His dark eyes met hers.

  ‘I’m actually running late – I should already be somewhere,’ she said, making a show out of checking her watch.

  ‘I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important,’ Marcus replied, unsmiling.

  Jessie dithered.

  ‘Okay, but just give me a moment to text my friend to let her know I’ll be late.’

  She reached into her bag for her phone and Marcus glanced up at the flat windows that faced the street. They were shrouded in darkness.

  ‘Of course,’ he said quietly. ‘But I think we should move away from the flat. Let’s try the place on the corner.’

  As they walked together, Jessie got a reply from Priya, saying she was free to head round whenever she was ready, then started to second-guess what Marcus might say. He looked serious. But then again, he always did. Could he somehow know that she’d been in contact with Magda? Jessie swallowed hard, then remembered she could always use the necklace as a perfectly plausible excuse. She needn’t mention that Magda had also wanted to speak to her about why she’d left Maver Place.

  When they reached the wine bar at the end of the street, Marcus let Jessie pass through the door first. It was a dimly lit venue with slim, leather-bound menus and attractive waiting staff. For a split second she wondered if he was about to confess he’d been harbouring feelings for her. Maybe it wasn’t Lauren he had his eye on after all? She had no idea how to respond if that were the case, as those feelings certainly weren’t mutual. They heaved themselves up onto stools at the bar and a waitress immediately poured out two glasses of tap water and placed a couple of menus between them. Without looking, Jessie ordered a glass of the cheapest red wine and Marcus asked for a lager. He looked agitated. She waited for him to start speaking.

  ‘I’m worried about Lauren,’ he said eventually, picking at his nails.

  It was a nervous tic he had. Jessie had noticed him doing it a few times in the flat too, usually when they all ate dinner together or if Henry was around.

  ‘Because of Magda?’ she asked, leaning forward to hear him better.

  A birthday party cheered loudly at the far end of the room. A woman with a holographic badge pinned to her shirt blew out the candles on a cake, then fanned away the smoke, laughing. Her friends all clapped.

  ‘In part, but I’m also worried that her behaviour is becoming a bit …’ He paused, searching for the right word. ‘Unpredictable.’

  Grief was an intensely personal thing; it was to be expected that Lauren might have a few up and down moments while they waited for the police to announce the results of the post-mortem. The whole of Brighton seemed to be on tenterhooks – Magda’s story had garnered a lot of attention. Jessie waited for him to continue, unsure as to what he meant.

  ‘She might be more upset about Magda than she’s letting on,’ Marcus continued. ‘The two of you are obviously very close, but you don’t know her like I do, she keeps a lot bottled up.’

  Marcus studied Jessie’s face, as if suddenly realising it looked different today. She felt her cheeks blush under the thick layers of make-up she was wearing, suddenly feeling stupid.

  ‘How do you mean?’ Jessie asked, a crinkle forming over her brow.

  He evidently didn’t like that they’d become such solid friends. That Lauren now seemed to prefer spending time with her, rather than with him.

  The same waitress carefully offloaded their drinks from a tray and asked if they’d like anything to eat. Both Marcus and Jessie shook their heads, then waited for her to leave before resuming their conversation.

  ‘We used to be close too, believe it or not,’ Marcus said, his eyes looking tired. ‘I know she doesn’t handle stress like this very well. I just want to make sure she’s taking care of herself?’

  Jessie didn’t respond. Was he implying she wasn’t being a good enough friend? She’d be heading back to Lauren as soon as she’d finished at Priya’s, despite dreading the thought of sleeping in her own bedroom. Magda would still be dead by the time she got back. Maybe she ought to crash on the sofa.

  ‘To be honest, Marcus, I don’t really think what you’re saying has anything to do with me. It’s pretty obvious that you have feelings for Lauren, right? It’s not my fault if they aren’t reciprocated.’

  Marcus lowered his beer and leant back.

  ‘That couldn’t be further from the truth,’ he said drily. ‘I don’t have a crush on Lauren.’

  ‘So why are you always staring at her like a lovesick teenager across the dinner table?’

  ‘I don’t. She’s just a friend.’

  ‘Of course, just a friend.’ Jessie’s voice had taken on an irritated tone.

  ‘I’ve lived with her a long time and I care about her, but my feelings aren’t romantic in any way,’ Marcus continued, unconvincingly. ‘I don’t know how much she’s told you about her past, and it’s not my place to, so I won’t, but she’s had a difficult life. She also mentioned that you were out with some people she used to hang around with the night you were assaulted?’

  Jessie widened her eyes. Marcus was the last person on earth that she wanted to talk to about her attack, which had flipped everything she thought she knew about the world and humanity on its head.

  ‘I’m sure if there’s anything that Lauren wanted me to know about, then she would have told me by now,’ she replied, mentally checking out of the conversation and shutting down.

  She drank her wine greedily, feeling it burn first her throat and then her chest. Jessie wanted to get going, to speak to Priya, not Marcus. He was evidently uncomfortable too. She took a took a £5 note out of her purse and laid it on the table.

  ‘Sorry, but I really need to head off now, unless there’s anything else?’

  Jessie looked at him hesitantly, hoping that they were done.

  ‘No, nothing else,’ Marcus replied defeatedly, reaching for his phone, wanting something to do other than stare at Jessie as she left the bar.

  That conversation couldn’t have gone any worse. But what else could he do? Lauren had built up a wall around herself and it seemed Jessie was the only one she now allowed in. He, on the other hand, was left shut out on the other side, worrying and trying to fill in the blanks himself.

  Outside, the cold air felt good against Jessie’s flushed face, but it was dark now. She’d have to call a taxi. As she waited for it arrive, she watched the back of Marcus’s skinny frame through the window, dejectedly hunched over his pint glass, fringe narrowly avoiding the liquid inside, shoulders slumped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Stepping out of the taxi, Jessie internally groaned as she handed over the fare. Being afraid of walking through the city alone was putting a real dent in her pocket. She watched the large white moon shadow bounce off the dark sea and thought about Magda – Brighton had a strange air about it tonight. Pushing the noisy buzzer for Priya’s flat made her involuntarily jump, which annoyed her; she was coming to realise that she didn’t want to exist as a timid half-person, who flinched at the sight of their own shadow or at a doorbell they’d rung themselves. Where was that person she used to be, the one she was before meeting Matthew? Who loved going to new places, who painted their nails bright colours and easily cracked jokes with friends over coffee, without second-guessing herself? How much harder did she need to try to become that person again? Brighton was supposed to be a new start. She couldn’t let it slip away, this chance at happiness, and willed the black clouds that had taken up residence in her mind to shift. The door opened.

  ‘Come on in,’ Priya said, smiling, her ponytail swishing behind her as she led Jessie inside the flat. ‘Zoe’s out with her work lot, so we’ve got the place to ourselves. Your make-up looks different.’

  The bright moon outside and a chunky television in the corner were the only sources of light in the room. Priya fumbled with the switch of a copper floor lamp as Jessie perched on the edge of the windowsill, gazing out
at the ruined pier and leisurely moving water down below. She unpinned her hair, letting it tumble back over her shoulders, and lined the grips up in a neat row.

  ‘Sorry, didn’t realise how gloomy it was in here,’ Priya said, her eyes adjusting from sitting in darkness all afternoon, absorbed in Netflix documentaries. ‘Drink? I’ve got lemonade, water, tea … whatever you like.’

  Jessie had spotted bottles of wine in a rack on top of the fridge.

  ‘Maybe something a little more alcoholic?’ she replied, continuing to stare intently out the window.

  The sea looked misleadingly gentle and calm, yet if the papers were to be believed, a woman had committed suicide in there just days ago. They claimed that Magda had deliberately chosen to let the waves drag her under, filling her lungs filled with salt water, rather than stay alive. Jessie shivered and turned away, closing the curtains. Life felt so fragile. You didn’t get a second go at it either.

  ‘How are you feeling? About it all,’ Priya asked, obediently fetching a couple of wine glasses.

  On the taxi ride over to Priya’s place, Jessie had thought long and hard about what she wanted to do. The conversation with Marcus had got her mind whirring. She thought about how she’d survived being physically attacked. Yes, her attacker had left her afraid and bruised, but so had Matthew – and the key word was survive. She had made it through both ordeals. Finally, she saw the power in recognising that she’d overcome them both. She didn’t want to let her demons overtake her, as poor Magda’s supposedly had. Instead, she was still standing and no longer prepared to give anybody a reason to see her as a walkover.

  ‘I still feel on edge – it’s almost become second nature to look over my shoulder now. But I’ve realised I don’t want to – no, I don’t have to – any more.’

  Priya listened and nodded as Jessie recounted her revelation.

 

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