by Sara Barnard
‘I thought they’d be here.’
‘I know you did.’
But how can they not be here?
We stay there together on the top step for a while, Valerie occasionally rubbing my arm, and Connor kind of hovering above us both, making a concerned face.
‘What happens now?’ I ask.
‘I don’t know,’ Valerie says.
‘Maybe you should call her,’ Connor says. This is actually the third time he’s said this, but it’s the first time it really registers for me. He’s right, of course. I should call her.
I unlock my phone and open my contacts, looking at the mostly blank ‘Ivy’ entry. Is this person really anything more than a stranger to me? Why am I putting myself through all of this, really?
‘Eden—’ Valerie starts.
‘I know; I’m going to call her,’ I say impatiently. ‘Just give me a—’
‘No, Eden,’ she says, insistent. ‘Look.’
I glance up to see that she’s facing away from me, looking down the road. I follow her gaze and spot two figures walking close together, one tall, one short, both holding carrier bags. The short figure has red hair. The tall one is wearing a baseball cap.
I walk back down the steps, my breath loud in my ears. It’s Bonnie. It’s Bonnie, it’s Bonnie, it’s Bonnie. I want to call out to her, but I can’t form words. I just stand, waiting for one of them to look up and see me.
Thirteen seconds later, Bonnie does. She’s close enough for me to see her whole face jerk with shock. ‘Eden? Oh my God, Eden!’ She drops the bags she’s holding and runs the last few metres towards me, throwing her arms around me for a hug. She steps back to look at me, hands still on my shoulders, a huge grin on her face. She is uncomplicatedly, genuinely happy to see me, I can tell. That is, at least, until she registers the tears and expression on my face. ‘What’s wrong?!’
What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!
‘You!’ I say. I don’t even know what I mean. Without even thinking about it, I reach out my arms and hug her again, feeling her arms curl around my back. Bonnie. Hugging her feels just the same.
When we break apart again, I look behind her at Mr Cohn, who has gathered up the bags Bonnie had dropped and is approaching us. His expression, from this distance, is hard to read.
‘Eden Rose McKinley,’ he says. ‘Now this is a surprise.’
‘Hi, sir,’ I say. I don’t even do it on purpose – it just comes out. ‘I mean . . . uh . . . Mr . . . um . . .’
‘Why don’t you call me Jack?’ Mr Cohn says, looking like he’s trying not to laugh. There’s no way I will ever call him Jack. ‘And Connor! Well. You’ve made quite the journey.’
Connor gives him a kind of uncomfortable half-smile, and I’m relieved that it’s not just me who’s feeling how completely weird this whole scenario is. Bonnie’s just standing there beaming.
‘Let’s go inside, shall we?’ Mr Cohn adds. He tries to hide it, but I see him look up and down the street, searching, no doubt, for police. And once I’ve seen that, I also notice that his jaw is pretty tight considering he’s smiling, like underneath it he’s clenching his teeth.
‘This is my sister, Valerie,’ I say, gesturing, partly because it seems polite to introduce them, and also because I’m belligerent, and stalling someone who’s obviously in a hurry is in my nature.
‘Shall we make the introductions inside the house?’ Mr Cohn says. ‘Lead the way, Bonnie.’
Bonnie obeys immediately, looping her arm through mine and ushering me towards the front door. ‘I can’t believe you’re here!’ she whispers, squeezing my elbow. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
What’s the right answer to this? ‘Surprise!’ I say.
She laughs, pushing a key into the lock and opening the door with a clunk. ‘Well, I’m definitely surprised!’
We go into the kitchen, which is small and cramped, and cluster around the table. There aren’t enough chairs for all of us, so Valerie and Mr Cohn stand on either side of the room, him unpacking the bags, her leaning against the sink, frowning.
‘Shall I make us all some tea?’ Mr Cohn suggests.
No one says anything, but he starts filling the kettle anyway.
‘So what brings you to Glasgow?’ Bonnie asks and, though she laughs, it sounds more awkward than anything else.
‘We came to see you,’ I say. ‘Well, I did.’ I glance at Connor and smile. ‘Plus guests.’
‘How did you find us?’ Mr Cohn asks, all casual, like he’s just curious.
I glance at Bonnie, but she’s looking at him instead of me. I open my mouth, but before I can speak Valerie answers. ‘Does it matter? We’re here now.’
‘I’d like to know whether to expect any other visitors,’ Mr Cohn says mildly. ‘If this particular location is . . . common knowledge.’
‘You mean like the police?’
He coughs. ‘Well . . .’
‘No need to be vague, Jack,’ she says. ‘Aren’t we a little bit past euphemisms at this point? Let’s call this what it is, shall we? A crime?’
‘Valerie,’ I hiss.
‘What?’ she demands. ‘Did you expect me to come here and act like this is all OK? Let these idiots play happy families right in front of me?’
‘Now, wait a—’ Mr Cohn starts.
‘No. No waiting,’ she interrupts, actually pointing an angry finger at him. ‘Abducting a minor, that’s a prison sentence right there, for a start. How many cups of tea in a little Scottish kitchen does it take to make you forget that? This isn’t a love story; it’s just a stupid mistake. One that’s going to ruin both your lives.’
The silence in the kitchen that follows these words feels almost alive. It crackles with electricity. By now, Bonnie is half standing, her expression as she stares at my sister a mix of anguish and horror. Reality, thy name is Valerie.
‘I love Bonnie,’ Mr Cohn says, and I think he means to say this with gravitas, like the way it would sound in a Richard Curtis film, but he gets the delivery wrong and it comes out all thin and weedy.
‘So?’ Valerie says, actually shrugging.
‘So we wanted to be together,’ Bonnie says.
Valerie closes her eyes and lets out a groan. ‘Oh my God,’ she says. ‘Is that as far as the reasoning went for you two? I’m in love, therefore this bullshit is OK?’
‘The “reasoning” is not your concern,’ Mr Cohn says, suddenly sounding more like the teacher I remember. ‘And neither is it welcome, quite frankly.’
‘Quite frankly,’ Valerie replies without hesitation, ‘as the only other adult here, I don’t care how welcome you think my concern is. You’re operating on levels of wrong. Multiple levels.’
‘Age gaps—’ Bonnie begins.
‘This isn’t about age gaps!’ Valerie interrupts, appalled. ‘Is that the bit he’s made you focus on? Has he done the whole “age gaps are taboo” crap? This is about things like power imbalances and taking advantage of authority and – oh, hey – boundaries?!’
‘Stop it,’ Bonnie begs, her voice shaky. I see her hands have clenched into fists. ‘Valerie. Stop.’
For a moment I think Valerie is going to carry on, but instead she actually does stop. ‘You’re right,’ she says, and Bonnie’s face pops in surprise. ‘There’s no point in me going on like this. Eden’s come all this way to see you. It’s her who should be talking to you.’ She looks expectantly at me. ‘Right?’
Everyone looks at me and I feel my face flush a slow, deep red in response. I hadn’t expected that I’d have to give a speech to an audience of anyone but Bonnie. ‘I . . .’I falter, then look helplessly at Valerie.
‘Bon, why don’t you give Eden a tour of the house?’ Mr Cohn suggests. ‘I’ll make some tea for Valerie and Connor while you both . . . chat.’
I’m not sure exactly why he suggests this – whether he means it out of kindness to me (unlikely), if he wants to have it out with Valerie while Bonnie isn’t in earshot (possible), or if he thinks I’
m just not a threat to his and Bonnie’s relationship because I’m such a nonentity (most likely) – but I decide it doesn’t matter. When Bonnie nods and smiles at me, I smile back. And when she reaches out a hand to me, like she did when we first met, when we were two little eight-year-olds from different worlds, I take it.
23
‘There’s not much to see,’ Bonnie says, pulling me down the hall, not letting go of my hand. ‘It’s really just the kitchen, the living room and the bedroom. And the bathroom, of course. It’s small. Cosy, I mean. We don’t need much, the two of us.’
‘How are you paying for all this?’ I ask, ducking my head obligingly into the bathroom as we pass, and then following her up a small flight of rickety, winding steps.
‘Jack got cash before we left,’ she says. ‘The bedroom is the only room up here, so this is it. Watch your head! The door frame is pretty low. On our first night here Jack hit his head on his way in. It bled and everything!’
‘How much cash?’ I ask. The bedroom is small, basically just a bed and a single wardrobe. The sheets are messy and rumpled – ew, ew, ew – and there are two suitcases on either side of the room, but not much else. It’s kind of bare, actually.
‘Enough for a while,’ she says.
‘Did you guys plan this?’ I ask, wondering what ‘a while’ means.
She shrugs. ‘Not really. I mean, we talked about it, yeah. And Jack got the money out in cash all ready for us to go a bit before. But we didn’t know for sure we were going to do it until we did.’ She smiles at me, spreading out her arms like she’s gesturing to the whole room all at once. ‘Pretty good, right? For a couple of fugitives?’
I try to smile back, but it doesn’t quite land on my face.
‘It’s not forever, anyway,’ she adds. ‘We’ll be moving on soon, probably.’
My stomach tightens. Not likely. ‘Were all the places you’ve stayed like this?’
‘No, the place in Tenby was so cute. Like a proper holiday cottage. I could’ve stayed there forever. But then we got busted.’ She sighs and sits down on the bed, pulling her legs underneath her.
‘What about Yorkshire?’ I ask, hovering awkwardly, not really wanting to sit on the crumpled sheets.
‘Oh, we didn’t actually stay anywhere there.’
I feel my face scrunch. ‘You were there for a couple of days, weren’t you?’
‘Yeah, we slept in the car.’
I pause. ‘What?’
‘We slept in the car,’ she repeats. ‘We couldn’t find somewhere that was safe that took cash, so we just slept in the car. That’s basically why we left and came up here.’ Seeing my face, she shrugs. ‘It’s not that weird. It was good, actually. Proper cosy.’
I stare at her, searching for traces of the friend I knew who would be able to hear how ridiculous she sounds, and laugh. Connor was completely right about her being in denial. It’s like she’s putting everything that’s happening through an ‘adventure’ filter in her head before she lets herself think about it too hard.
‘Sit down,’ Bonnie says, nodding at the space beside her, and I do, because refusing would be weird. It’s strange how awkward I feel around her, even though Bonnie is meant to be one of the people I’m most comfortable around in the world, and I’m not even a shy person. But I thought I’d know what to say, and I just . . . don’t.
‘This is so bizarre,’ I say finally, and I laugh out some of my nerves. ‘You feel like a stranger.’
Bonnie grins. ‘It’s the hair, right?’ She puts two hands under her new red bob and then laughs. ‘I’m still me, though.’ She reaches over with open arms to hug me, her head settling on my shoulder. ‘See?’
I lean my head against hers, like I have a thousand times. ‘It feels like you’ve been gone for so long.’
‘It feels like that for me, too.’
We lift our heads at the same moment so we can face each other again. ‘Do you miss it?’ I ask. ‘Home?’
At this, Bonnie looks away, shrugging. ‘What’s to miss?’
‘Um, your family? Me? Not having to hide all the time?’
‘Firstly, we don’t actually have to hide all that much,’ she replies, her chin jutting slightly. ‘It’s not like it looks in films and stuff. Secondly, you’re right here, aren’t you? And honestly? No, I don’t really miss my family. Home wasn’t exactly a fun place to be.’ She must read the sceptical surprise on my face, because she lets out a bitter laugh. ‘Oh, I know they’ve been pulling the perfect family bit for the press. I’ve seen the press conferences. Mum crying and Dad looking all stoic, or whatever. Please. They just don’t like the embarrassment. Being shown up in front of their friends at church. A daughter with a mind of her own? The horror!’ She shakes her head. ‘This is the best thing for everyone.’
‘I didn’t know you felt that way about your family.’
‘It’s not a “thing”. I’m not trying to say I’ve got some secret childhood trauma. I obviously don’t. It just wasn’t a very happy place, that’s all.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘After everything you’ve been through in your life? It’d be like complaining about a headache to someone with a brain tumour.’
I frown. ‘Um, what?’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘No, I don’t. You’re saying that because I was adopted, you didn’t want to talk to me about not being happy at home?’
‘Well, yeah. It would just have been a bit insensitive, you know?’
‘Bonnie. That’s so stupid.’ The more I think about it, the stupider it sounds. ‘And who cares if it was insensitive, anyway? You got to the point where you actually ran away. How could you not tell me that?’
She’s calm even as I’m starting to get worked up. ‘Because the running-away bit – and I hate that phrase, by the way – was all to do with Jack, and I couldn’t tell you about him.’
‘Why not?’ The big question. ‘Didn’t you want to tell me? Didn’t you trust me?’
‘It had to be a secret,’ she says. ‘It’s nothing to do with trusting you – it just had to be a secret. I know that must sound crazy to you from the outside, but that was the only way it could go. It was always about just the two of us. The only ones who get it. And that’s OK. That’s part of us being together. The two of us against the world.’
I resist the urge to tell her that she sounds completely delusional, because even I can see that that won’t help me to convince her to come back home with me. She needs a dose of reality, but not too much, or I’ll lose her completely. ‘Do you think that’s why you did this? Like . . . it’s a big adventure you’re both having?’
‘Sure!’ Her face lights up, like she’s excited that I understand.
‘But what about when the adventure . . . ends?’
‘Who says it has to end?’
‘Don’t all adventures end?’
‘Not this one. Not with Jack and me.’
‘You want to be running away forever?’
‘Sure,’ she says again. ‘Why not?’ Her eyes are bright; too bright. There’s a touch too much energy in her voice. ‘We’re like outlaws.’
‘And that’s a good thing?’ Frustration is thickening in my throat, and it’s getting harder to hide. This isn’t going how I expected, and this Bonnie is not a girl I recognize. I don’t know how to navigate this conversation; there are none of the usual signposts in her voice or her expression to guide me.
‘If I can be with Jack, yes.’
‘But, Bon . . . you slept in a car.’
‘So?’
Great. This isn’t going well. ‘Are you even a little bit sorry?’ I ask, changing tack.
‘Sorry about what?’
That’s a no, then. About the mess you caused, I could say. Or, about starting a national manhunt. I say, ‘For lying to me.’
‘I didn’t lie. You didn’t ask.’
‘You mean, I didn’t ask if your secret boyfriend was actually Mr Cohn?’ I try to swal
low down my sudden anger, but I can feel it rising in my throat. She wants to put this on me? ‘That’s bullshit, and you know it. The biggest thing that had ever happened to you was happening, and you didn’t tell me. And then you buggered off and left me – and everyone else – to deal with the fallout. You know everyone thought I knew all along? And why wouldn’t they? I should’ve done.’
‘I just explained,’ she says. ‘I couldn’t tell you. It had to be a secret.’
‘From everyone else, sure. But me? I thought we trusted each other.’
‘What would you’ve said if I actually told you?’ she challenges. ‘Great, go for it? No. You would’ve freaked out, just like you did when you found out. Remember what you texted me? Holy fucking shitballs?’
‘That reaction is totally valid,’ I say. ‘Yeah, I would have freaked out. It’s a freak-out-able thing. But I would still have kept it a secret, if that’s what you wanted. Just like I have all this week – by the way, you’re welcome.’
‘Exactly,’ she says. ‘You kept it a secret. So you obviously don’t think it’s that bad, do you?’
‘I do think it’s that bad,’ I say, trying to keep up with the twists in the conversation. ‘It’s completely wrong. Can’t you see it?’
Bonnie raises one eyebrow. ‘Is that what you came all the way here to say? That you think I’m wrong?’
I hesitate. ‘Well, yeah.’
To my surprise, she smiles. ‘Do you know, that’s why you’re so great, Eden. That’s why I told you about leaving, and where I was, even after we nearly got caught in Tenby. Because even though you think this is wrong, you still kept the secret. You didn’t tell anyone. You trusted me to know what I’m doing.’
I know I’m meant to feel pleased about this. What she’s saying is everything I’ve thought over the last week, the way I reasoned with myself every time I hesitated over keeping her secrets safe within me. But instead, Connor’s face pops into my mind. That point he’d made yesterday (that was only yesterday?!) about Bonnie acting selfishly.
Everything she’s said is great, I guess, but isn’t it all a bit . . . one-sided? She’s listed everything I’m doing for her, but what exactly is she doing for me in return? Forcing me to collude with her in this trainwreck of mistakes? I’ve lied to my family, been shouted at by journalists, dragged my sister more than halfway across the country. And for what? This dewy-eyed schoolgirl, infatuated by some false idea of love.