by Sara Barnard
Emma snorts, clearly thinking the same thing. ‘Sleep on the sofa. Sure.’
Valerie rolls her eyes at her, but it’s affectionate. ‘I was going for plausible deniability. Don’t you have somewhere to be?’
Emma sighs. ‘Yes. Woe.’ She picks up her bag from where it’s been resting by the door. ‘Hey, Vee?’ Valerie turns and Emma grins. ‘I missed you. Glad you’re back.’ She opens her arms and Valerie steps immediately into them, the two of them sharing a quick, tight girl-hug. I think of hugging Bonnie, the quick hugs and the silly hugs and the crying hugs. So many hugs. I miss her so goddamn much.
‘Right!’ Emma says, swinging her bag up over her shoulder. ‘I better go. But I’m going to take a break tomorrow night so I can hang out with you guys. We can go to The Bell! They won’t try and ID you or anything.’ This girl is a talker. ‘You can tell me all about your runaway friend and the dodgy teacher. And what you think of York. And what it’s like being Vee’s little sister. I mean real little sister. We all feel like her little sisters, even though we’re all the same age here.’ She laughs, light and happy, tucking her hair behind her ears as she speaks. ‘OK, I really have to go. Have fun! See you later!’ And she finally leaves.
There’s a long pause. ‘Well,’ Connor says. ‘She’s chatty.’
‘Yeah,’ Valerie says. She doesn’t elaborate. ‘Let me show you the rest of the house, and then I’ll go and get us a pizza.’
It doesn’t take long, because the house is pretty small. The living room and kitchen are all on the ground floor along with Valerie’s bedroom, and the three other bedrooms and bathroom are all on the first. When we’re done, Connor disappears off into the bathroom, leaving Valerie and me standing in the living room, our eyes almost meeting but not quite, awkward in the silence.
‘Look,’ Valerie says eventually. ‘There’s a lot going on here, obviously. And I’m just too bloody tired to try and deal with it all now. So can we just . . . not?’
I look at her. ‘Not?’
‘Just for now.’ She gives a drained little smile. ‘Let me go out and get us some food. I’ll bring it back, we’ll stay up and chat about bullshit, nothing heavy. We’ll put all this –’ she gestures vaguely around us – ‘on pause. OK?’
‘OK,’ I say.
Valerie dips her head a little, forcing me to meet her gaze. ‘Happy?’
I nod. ‘Happy.’
Valerie is gone for almost an hour. Connor falls asleep on the sofa in front of old episodes of The Big Bang Theory, and I try out the shower. When I come back into the living room, wearing the clothes I’d brought to sleep in and with a towel wrapped around my head, Connor is sitting up, looking on his phone.
‘Any news?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘Not really. Mr Cohn’s dad has done a press conference, asking him to send Bonnie home. Poor guy. He looks wrecked.’
The front door opens and we both turn to see Valerie holding a pizza box and a plastic bag. ‘God,’ she says, coming into the living room and sinking straight down on to the floor. ‘I’m exhausted.’
‘You were gone for ages,’ I say.
‘I went to the supermarket for some wine –’ she holds up the bag and I hear the distinctive clinking sound coming from within – ‘and then the first pizza place I went to was closed.’ She rolls her eyes at me. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’
‘Thanks, Valerie,’ Connor says.
‘Well, thank you, Connor,’ Valerie says, raising her eyebrows significantly at me.
‘Thank you,’ I say, a little meekly. ‘And thanks for driving us, too.’
She shrugs. ‘Help yourself to the pizza. I just got plain cheese, so that better be OK. Can you grab some wine glasses? There should be some in the cupboard.’
Connor is already standing and moving over to the kitchen. ‘Um, do you mean the wine glasses that are in the sink?’
Valerie makes a face. ‘Are they clean?’ she asks hopefully.
‘Uh . . . no.’
‘Great,’ she mutters. ‘Fine, whatever. Any drinking receptacle will do.’
Connor comes back holding what looks like plastic children’s cups. ‘Er . . . even these?’
Valerie rolls her eyes. ‘Oh my God, is that really all that’s left? You wouldn’t think it would be so hard for a bunch of actual adults to do some washing-up, would you?’ She lets out a loud sigh and reaches out a hand to take the cups from him. ‘They’ll have to do.’ She opens the bottle and pours out three cups of wine. ‘I’m capping you both at two cups each,’ she says, giving me a mock-stern look.
‘But these cups are tiny,’ I protest. ‘It’s basically a shot!’
‘Fine. Three cups each.’ Valerie lifts her cup to her lips, takes a swig and then looks back at it, frowning. ‘Four,’ she amends.
I end up drinking six; Connor – not much of a drinker – has three. I have no idea how many Valerie gets through, but by midnight both bottles are empty and she’s dancing around the room, singing something from Cabaret. She is loose-limbed and relaxed in a way I’ve never seen before. After what she’d said in the car about me not knowing her like I thought I did, I’m noticing things about her I never have before. Like how thin she actually is. Who is this person, my sister, really?
As agreed, we’ve talked about nothing heavy all night. This is good because there haven’t been any more tears or minor breakdowns, no shouting or swearing, but it’s also bad because I haven’t been able to bring up the tiny matter of us needing to go to Scotland tomorrow. And I have no idea how to do that. Like, literally no clue. To be honest, the thought of having to tell Valerie the truth is giving me heart palpitations, so I just . . . haven’t.
She’s going to say no, isn’t she? She’s just going to see right through me and shoot me down. Send me straight home and tell everyone what a deceitful, ungrateful liar I am.
Maybe I should tell her now, while she’s drunk. Yeah, that’s what I should do. What could go wrong?
‘Valerie?’
Valerie spins around to face me from where she’s standing by the window, stumbling a little on her foot. ‘Oui?’ she says.
‘We should probably go to bed,’ Connor says loudly. I glare at him and he gives me a look that says, I know what you’re going to do, and no.
‘Yes. Right. Yeah. Bed.’ Valerie nods a little, swaying to whatever music is playing in her head. ‘Oui. Je vais aller au lit.’ She gathers her loose hair into a ponytail, then drops it again, stretching out her arms and then dancing across the room towards the bathroom. ‘I’m going to wash my f-a-a-a-ace.’ She sings this last word, loud and elongated, before disappearing through the bathroom door.
Connor looks at me. ‘Wow.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, shrugging helplessly. ‘I guess this is Valerie on wine?’
‘Valerie on wine after a long day of driving and arguing,’ Connor replies. He scoots across the carpet so he’s next to me.
‘Oh God, don’t bring that up,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Sorry you had to . . . you know. Be there.’
‘It was quite intense.’ He makes a wincing face, then adds, ‘And she doesn’t even know about—’
I put my hand out to shush him just as Valerie comes parading out of the bathroom, barefoot and with moisturizer blobs on her face, holding a toothbrush. ‘You guys heard me earlier about the bed situation, right? I’ll be in Emma’s bed, but you guys . . .’ She wiggles her finger at us. ‘Bed and sofa. Separately.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I see Connor’s whole face go bright red. And then Valerie adds, grandly, ‘No hanky-panky on my watch.’
I wait until she’s gone back into the bathroom before I risk speaking. ‘I was going to tell her about Scotland about two minutes ago, but you ruined it.’
‘You can’t tell her now!’ Connor retorts, his voice hushed like mine, cheeks still flaming. ‘Not when she’s drunk. You don’t know how she’ll react.’
‘She’s not drunk,’ I say. ‘She’s just a bit . . . merry.’
‘She just used the word “hanky-panky”. She’s definitely drunk. My gran wouldn’t even say “hanky-panky”.’
Valerie comes out of the bathroom again, her face scrubbed clean. ‘Bedtime, children,’ she says, dancing over to the stairs and then gliding – and I mean gliding – up them.
Connor looks at me.
‘OK, fine, she’s a bit drunk,’ I say.
‘It must be you,’ he says. ‘You pushed her over the edge. You broke Valerie.’
‘Oh God,’ I say, looking at the empty stairs. ‘I did, didn’t I? I’m . . .’ I turn to him mid-sentence and then his mouth is on mine, his lips soft and familiar. I loosen against him, my tongue touching his as his hand moves up my body and cups the side of my face.
We lose ourselves to each other for a while, and at some point I realize we’re both lying on the floor, tangled together, and that our kissing has reached the point of escalation where it’s not enough, suddenly and all at once, to just be kissing. It’s like we both realize it at the same moment because we break apart, breathing hard, and look at each other. His hand touches mine. I can feel his heart beating in the space between us. And I can feel . . . well, something else.
‘Should we . . . um . . .’ Connor’s face is red, his voice breathy. He swallows. ‘Do you want to go and lie down for a bit?’
I nod. ‘Let me just . . .’ My voice is crackly and I clear my throat, trying to steady it. I point at the stairs Valerie walked up who-knows-how-long ago. ‘Um. Check.’
We both stand up and I creep up the stairs as silently as I can, leaving Connor staring after me. I push open the door that has EMMA written on it in pink chalk and poke my head around it. I can see Valerie lying on her side on the bed, clearly fast asleep. I close the door and pad back down the stairs, feeling a smile spread over my face as I look at Connor and nod the all-clear.
He takes my hand, his face a shiny, happy pink, and we walk across the living room together and into Valerie’s bedroom. The wine has made me feel buzzy and warm, somehow more alive than usual. And there’s electricity, too, in this room, between Connor and me, in his eyes and in his smile.
We lie down on the bed, curling together, his fingers sliding over my cheek and down to my chin as he leans in to kiss me.
Certain things happen when you’re sixteen and you’re lying on a bed with your boyfriend and you’ve had some wine and your sister is asleep in another room. I know it and Connor knows it, and the knowing it is all part of it.
The first and only time Connor and I sort-of-almost had sex was rushed and a bit frantic. We had about a half-hour window while his mother and gran were downstairs watching Poldark, for one thing. And the thing about first-time sex, at least if you believe in the whole virginity-loss as a thing and not just some stupid concept, is that it all becomes about it being over and done with; the thing being lost. There’s no savouring or, God forbid, enjoying it.
But this time, everything is different. In the time since that sloppy anticlimax we’ve learned how to kiss and touch each other, and so we do, slowly, properly. When it comes to the moment, when our clothes are all off and the condom is on, I can tell that Connor is still a bit nervous, but for some reason I’m not. This is all right in every sense.
I take the lead and he lets me, the two of us together in the dark. I am simultaneously thinking Why haven’t we been doing this the whole time? and I’m so glad we waited until right this moment. That is, until I stop thinking, and it’s just him and me and heat and love for this absolute perfect moment that I can’t quite believe is real, even when it’s happening.
After, we lie on our backs, staring at the ceiling, quiet. I can hear him trying to slow his breathing to a normal speed. I’m thinking hanky-panky, and smiling in the dark. Finally he says, ‘That was . . .’ and I say, ‘Yeah.’
Sometime later – I don’t know how long because time seems looser somehow, less relevant – Connor has fallen asleep. I ease myself out from under the covers, dress and creep across the floor towards the door. The living room is still and quiet in the dark, the pizza box and empty cups on the floor where we’d left them. I tidy up on a kind of autopilot, savouring the silence and the being alone for the first time in twelve hours.
It occurs to me as I slosh water into the cups that I’m the closest I’ve been to Bonnie since she left. It’s a weird thought. I could message her now, tell her about me and Connor. But how can I say just that bit and miss out all the rest, like the not-so-small fact that we’re in York right now, on a mission to collect her? Maybe I should tell her exactly what I’m doing, let her know I’m on my way. I think about finding my phone and sending her a message: Guess where I am!
No. That’s a bad idea. What if she tells Mr Cohn, and he gets spooked and they leave before I get there? What if she tells me not to come? Because that’s what will happen, isn’t it? She won’t want me to come, no way. Turning up unannounced is really my only option.
And what about Valerie? How am I going to get her to drive us to Glasgow, of all places? Should I just tell her the truth? But the truth doesn’t seem like any kind of an option, either. She’ll just get right on the phone to the police, won’t she? I’ll be bundled into the car and driven back to Kent, and there’ll be nothing I can do about it.
By the time I sneak back into the bedroom, I haven’t come up with any answers. Connor is still fast asleep in bed, and I hesitate, looking at him. I’d intended to wake him up and remind him to sleep on the sofa, but that seems a bit mean. Maybe I should sleep on the sofa? I’ll just lie down for a minute first.
I slide under the covers and curl up close to Connor, listening to the sound of his breathing in the silence of the room. He stirs a little and puts an arm around me, nuzzling his head against mine, and I smile. The moment is so nice – just plain nice – that I sink into it, warm and soft, and close my eyes. I can’t help thinking, lying here next to Connor, about how I got here. This time last week, I was in my own bed in Larking, and everything was ordinary. Now, I’m in my adoptive sister’s house in York, a place I never thought I’d see. I’m on a covert mission to try and bring my runaway friend back to England. I just had sex with my boyfriend. And it all comes back to Bonnie, the person who was my constant, the most reliable, my best friend.
Tomorrow, I will see her again. This whole strange, unlikely week will end with us in the back seat of Valerie’s car, all of us on our way back to Larking. I can see it so clearly. Connor in the front seat, Valerie smiling and shaking her head in the driver seat, still not quite believing that her dipshit younger sister managed to pull it all off. And Bonnie beside me, shell-shocked perhaps, but there, squeezing my hand and saying, ‘You were right. Thank God you came.’
This is the image in my mind as I fall asleep. Bonnie’s earnest, familiar face and the words, comforting validation, echoing into my dreams.
Conversations That Took on a New Meaning after Bonnie Disappeared
The Last Edition: one day before
‘Do you want to come back to mine?’ I asked, pulling my bag over my shoulder and following Bonnie out of the classroom and into the hall. It was our last revision session before the weekend, and I felt instantly lighter.
‘I’ve got a flute lesson,’ Bonnie said. ‘Sorry.’ She paused outside the door, leaning against the wall, trying to stuff her papers into her notepad. ‘Shit.’ Her pencil case slipped from her grasp and hit the floor. ‘Can you pick that up for me?’
‘What’s up with you?’ I asked, obeying. ‘You’ve been stressy all day.’
Bonnie lifted her free hand to her face, sweeping her side fringe out of her eyes. ‘Just . . .’
‘Exams?’ I supplied.
For a second, an expression passed over her face that I couldn’t read. ‘I can care about other stuff, you know.’
‘OK, sure,’ I said, shrugging. ‘Like what?’
For a moment she just looked at me, and I had no idea what it was she wanted. ‘Forget it. You’re right. I only care about revision
and exams.’
‘Why’ve you got a flute lesson this late on a Friday?’ I asked. ‘I thought you’d done the assessment already?’
She shook her head, her face pink and flustered. ‘This is an extra thing. For the written exam.’
‘But—’
‘I have to go; I’m late.’
‘OK, fine, go,’ I said. ‘See you tomorrow, then.’
Bonnie, who’d already started to turn to walk in the opposite direction, paused. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘Yeah. Canterbury, right?’
‘Oh. Oh, yeah.’
‘You didn’t forget, did you?’
‘Of course not. I’ll text you later.’
‘See you tomorrow,’ I said again, watching her departing back.
She glanced behind her and smiled. ‘See you.’
Friday
20
I wake up groggy. I’d thought I hadn’t had much wine, but what I did have seems to have floated up into my head and settled there in a heavy, uncomfortable weight.
‘Eden?’
Someone is saying my name. Who is it? Valerie?
‘Eden!’ No, not Valerie. Connor. He’s standing – I realize when I lift my head – in the doorway, not quite in the room.
‘What?’ I demand, not particularly nicely. I am not a morning person.
‘Where’s Valerie?’
I half sit up. ‘I don’t know. Isn’t she just upstairs?’
Connor shakes his head. ‘I went to ask if she wanted tea when I got up. The door’s open and the room’s empty.’ He ducks out of the room and I hear his voice drift from the living room. ‘Her shoes are gone. She must have gone for coffee or something.’
I throw on some clothes and join him, the thin carpet more scratchy than soft against my bare feet. ‘I hope she brings some back for—’
That’s the moment the front door opens and Valerie appears, holding a carrier of four cups in one hand and a paper bag, sunglasses and keys in the other. She smiles in surprise when she sees us. ‘Hey, guys,’ she says, swinging the door closed with her hip and coming into the house. ‘I didn’t think you’d be up yet.’