Valentine

by Jodi McAlister

  I’m barely listening to Mr Hunter as he tells me all the things I did wrong, then labels my performance ‘adequate’ (which in Hunter-speak means . . . well, adequate, I won’t lie) before going back over to my family, who are motioning me. ‘Do you want dessert, Pearlie?’ Shad asks.

  Sugar. Perfect. ‘Yes please,’ I say enthusiastically, taking the menu.

  ‘Did your friends like the show?’ Disey asks, pouring herself another glass of wine.

  ‘Um, yeah, I think so,’ I say. ‘They all said nice things.’

  ‘As well they should!’ Helena exclaims. ‘You are just so good at this, Miss Pearlie! I wish I had half your talent!’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say vaguely. ‘Can I have the chocolate mousse, Shad?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ he says. ‘Dise, Helena? Anything for you guys?’

  ‘Nothing for me,’ the Hellbeast answers. ‘No sugar after seven!’

  Disey’s eyebrow twitches. Shad gives her a pointed look across the table.

  He orders from a passing waiter and we settle down to wait. Helena launches into some story about the newspaper and how she and Disey had such a nice time interviewing the mayor would you believe we met the mayor, Miss Pearlie, he is such a nice man, and I tune out, throwing in the odd chuckle or a mmm-hmm when she pauses to take a breath. I’ve got one eye on my friends so it’s not too obvious I’m watching them. Well, I say friends. You wouldn’t have to be Einstein to figure out the centre of my attention.

  ‘. . . and then he said that he’d never had such an interesting time at an interview! Can you believe that, Miss Pearlie?’

  ‘Wow,’ I say.

  Jenny’s just made some joke and he’s laughing and I wish I was Jenny and I was making that joke and he was laughing with me and –

  ‘Desserts? That’s a chocolate mousse and –’

  And then my attention is brought firmly back to earth as Finn Blacklin drops sticky-date pudding all over Shad and Helena.

  ‘I’m sorry –’ he splutters, diving to the floor to get the dish. ‘I’m so sorry – I don’t know what – I’ll get –’

  ‘Finn, what are you doing?!’ I explode.

  ‘Pearl!’ Disey and Shad both say sharply, but I’m not listening. I don’t believe this.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’ I exclaim, standing.

  ‘My job,’ Finn says tightly, grabbing a napkin off a nearby table and handing it to Helena.

  ‘What, throwing dessert at people?’

  ‘I’m a waiter. Thought the uniform might have tipped you off.’ He gestures to his Saffron Room apron.

  I splutter incoherently. I can’t believe he works here and he looks so good with his hair all pulled back and that one button on his white button-down shirt undone and OMG what if he realised how many of those songs were about him and –

  ‘Pearl, sit down!’ Disey orders. ‘People are looking!’

  People are – oh my God, Cardy is looking!

  My face feels like it’s on fire with a combination of rage and utter mortification. I hate him I hate him I hate him he must think I’m such an idiot I hate myself I hate everything I hate the world I hate this place oh God oh God.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I mumble, and practically sprint to the bathroom.

  I lock myself in a stall, flip the lid of the toilet down and hug my knees. I don’t want to cry because I know it’ll make my eyes blotchy, but I can’t help myself, and that makes me hate everything even more because I feel stupid and hormonal and I don’t want to be stupid and hormonal.

  Why am I such a terrible excuse for a human being? Why?

  I bet he’s in the kitchen now laughing his head off. And then he’ll leave here after his shift and go off and meet Holly-Anne or someone and they’ll make out in his car and he’ll tell her the story and she’ll laugh her head off. Or maybe he won’t tell her because he’ll be too busy licking her neck or whatever and I am just so far below his notice that it’s not even funny.

  Oh shut up, Pearl!

  This is ridiculous. I am being ridiculous. I have to pull myself together. I’m not the sap who sits in a bathroom crying.

  I scrub my face with cold water until it’s red raw, then I grasp the edge of the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. My mascara’s run a bit. I wipe it away. ‘Pearl Linford,’ I say to my reflection, ‘you are better than this.’

  I don’t feel much better, but sometimes the bravado helps.

  I was prepared for Disey and Shad to chew me out well and good over the unfortunate snappage incident, but they take it easy on me. I kind of wish they hadn’t, to tell the truth. It makes me worried when I don’t know what they’re thinking about.

  But I can’t worry too much about them right now. I have to work out how to rebuild my social life after behaving like a toddler in a public place.

  Is everyone going to know? Are they going to look at me and go, ‘Wow, someone has a case of the serious sexual frustrations’, and laugh at me forevermore?

  I shut myself in my room when we get home and open up Facebook. I consider a few status options but settle on, ‘Can’t believe how high strung I am sometimes!’ I have to acknowledge the incident but not try to make it seem too serious, like I abuse waiters casually in restaurants all the time . . . but in a funny way.

  Yeah, that sounds terrible. Because I am terrible.

  I check the chat list and yes, Cardy’s online. That means that, hopefully, he’ll see my status update. The ultimate victory would be if he liked it. Hahaha, what an adorably slightly unbalanced genius she is, he will think. That creative temperament!

  Oooh, there’s a thought. If Finn has changed his status to ‘Pearl Linford is a crazy bitch’ or something like that, then I might have to do some serious damage control.

  I surf to his page, but nothing is new. I scroll down to check whether anyone has written anything on his wall along the lines of, ‘Whoa, so Pearl just totally chucked a hugely public hissy fit at you’, but it all seems good so far. He’s changed his relationship status back from ‘It’s Complicated’ to ‘Single’ (he oscillates between the two on a fairly regular basis) but Holly-Anne still seems to be the girl of the moment, judging by the messages she’s left on his wall.

  I bet Holly probably has enough social graces not to throw a temper tantrum in the middle of a restaurant.

  Disey walks in with a cup of tea for me and I slam my laptop lid shut. I really have to train her to knock. ‘Don’t stay up too late on the internet,’ she says with a wry smile.

  ‘I won’t,’ I reply, trying hard not to sound defensive.

  ‘Night, Pearlie – hey, check out that!’

  I follow her pointing finger. The black cat is still sitting on my windowsill, staring at me through the security screen.

  ‘How bizarre,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t let it cross your path,’ Disey says. ‘Night.’

  ‘Night, Dise.’

  She shuts the door behind her. I open the lid of my computer again and start reading a Rookie article, determined to ignore the crazy staring cat. But I can’t. I can feel it watching me. All the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up and it’s like its eyes are boring into the back of my head and –

  Hang on a minute. When did I open my curtains? And when did I open my window?

  Because I closed both of them, didn’t I? It was watching me while I was getting dressed for the show. I was talking to Phil on the phone, and the cat was watching me, and she was laughing at me, and I closed the curtains and the window. And then I left, because Disey was yelling at me to hurry up.

  And now they’re both open.

  I stare at the cat. It stares back. It hasn’t moved at all as far as I can tell, not a paw, not a whisker.

  Get a grip, Pearl. There has to be an explanation.

  I close the window again and walk down the hall to Shad’s study. I have to force myself not to run.

  Shad looks surprised when I open the door. ‘Can’t sleep, Pearlie?’ he
asks, looking up from his computer.

  ‘Something like that,’ I reply. ‘Hey, did you open my window before?’

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘Maybe it was Dise.’

  Maybe it was. But –

  ‘Can you explain to me what you’re doing?’ I ask.

  He smiles. ‘’Course. So, here . . .’

  Some people can’t sleep unless there’s perfect silence. Silence freaks me out. Shad’s been nocturnal for, like, ever, so there’s always something going on in our house at night. It’s nice knowing that if you can’t sleep, you can go and curl up in the corner in Shad’s study and drowsily watch him tap away at the keyboard. And if it’s a soporific you need, there’s nothing better than asking Shad what he’s working on. He designs software and he’s totally incapable of explaining it to neophytes like me, so although I love him very much, he can put me to sleep like no one else in the world.

  And there’s an advantage to your big brother being the one person that can put you to sleep, because your big brother is one of the few people in the world who’ll carry you to bed if you fall asleep in his study.

  I love sleeping in on Saturday morning, but today is not my lucky day. I get a call from the manager at the pool, asking me to come in and pull a double shift to cover for Dave, who’s sick. Surprise, surprise.

  ‘Hey Pearlie, you need to call one of your teachers,’ Disey says when I get home that afternoon.

  ‘What?’ I ask blankly, tossing Shad’s car keys onto the bench.

  ‘Ms Rao called for you about an hour ago,’ Disey hands me a Post-it. ‘Here’s her number.’

  ‘Weird,’ I say. ‘I didn’t think teachers existed on Saturdays. Don’t they live in their desk drawers?’

  ‘I hear that is a common misconception.’

  Ms Rao picks up on the fourth ring. ‘Hi, Ms Rao? It’s Pearl,’ I say.

  ‘Hi Pearl, how are you?’

  ‘I’m fine – sorry I wasn’t home when you called before. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I was just wondering if you’d heard from Marie lately.’

  I blink. ‘Marie Jessup?’

  ‘Yes. She’s been out of school all week and we haven’t had any explanation about her absence, so we’re just trying to track her down, but we’re having a bit of trouble getting in contact with her.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure her parents are out of the country at the moment.’

  ‘When was the last time you saw her?’

  ‘Um, it would have been at Tillie’s birthday party last weekend out at the old stables.’

  ‘Thanks for your help, Pearl. Can you let me know if you hear from her?’

  ‘Sure. Bye, Ms Rao.’

  I hang up the phone. ‘What was all that about?’ Disey asks.

  ‘Marie,’ I answer. ‘She hasn’t been into school all week and no one can contact her.’

  Disey raises her eyebrows. ‘And they left it all week to try and track her down?’

  ‘The school administration isn’t exactly a well-oiled machine,’ I reply.

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ I say vaguely, disappearing into my room.

  Hey Marie, long time no see! Just checking you’re not too sick – is there anything you need? I text, then open up my laptop. If you want to know someone’s movements, then Facebook is your first stop. I don’t think it’s possible to be seventeen years old and living in the world and not update something on Facebook at least once a day.

  But there’s nothing on Marie’s page. Her last status update was Friday last week: ‘Excited about Til’s massive bday party!’ A few people have written on her wall since then, but she hasn’t replied to any of them.

  I check her Tumblr. She hasn’t posted anything since Wednesday last week – no likes, no reblogs, nothing. And her most recent update on Instagram is a photo of her with a cardboard cutout of Zayn Malik she posted more than a week ago.

  Nothing. Since the party.

  I feel like the temperature in the room has dropped by about ten degrees.

  ‘Hey Shad, are you going out tonight?’ I ask, pulling my coat on as I walk into the kitchen.

  ‘Mmm-hmmm,’ he says, turning a page in the news­paper. ‘Going to dinner with Helena.’

  ‘What’s up?’ Disey asks.

  ‘I’m a bit worried about Marie. Can I borrow your car?’

  ‘Sure,’ Disey says, tossing me her keys. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Just up to her house. I want to check she’s all right.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s fine,’ Disey says.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, me too,’ I say.

  She has to be fine. Nothing ever happens to anyone in Haylesford – a fact which my sister the journalist laments often.

  Marie lives over on the beach side of town. I park out the front. There are no cars in the driveway, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she’s not home. The front curtains are closed, but maybe she just couldn’t be bothered to open them . . .?

  I ring the doorbell.

  Nothing.

  I lean on the doorbell.

  Nothing.

  I knock.

  Nothing.

  The side gate is open so I go around the back, hoping none of the neighbours see and call the police on me for trespass and attempted burglary or whatever. In the movies they’d always find a window open and they’d shimmy inside and explore the house, but I don’t think I’d be game to do that even if I did find one. I do try the back door, though, just in case, but it’s locked.

  So this is a bust.

  I walk slowly back to the car and slide back into the driver’s seat, but I don’t start the engine. Instead, I sit there like one of those private detectives doing surveillance in an old movie. Except I don’t think I’m really surveilling anything. I’m staring blankly at the front door of Marie’s house, hoping desperately that Marie will suddenly walk out of it.

  I can’t just give up and go home. ‘Oh, she’s not here, she must be fine!’ What kind of friend would that make me? But what, exactly, am I supposed to do?

  Hey, have you seen Marie lately? I type into my phone, and send it to just about everyone in my contact list. It’s probably going to cost me all of my phone credit, but I don’t care. I lean my head against the steering wheel and try to think like Veronica Mars. If I were Marie, where would I be? Where would I go?

  The stables. The last place I saw her. It’s as good a place to start as any.

  I take off down the street. The sun is setting over the ocean but I think I can make it to the stables and back before it gets dark. I mean, I don’t know exactly what I expect to find there – Marie sitting on the ground having some Zen moment of communion with the horse or nature or whatever? – but I don’t want to think about that, because the alternatives are pretty horrible.

  Ms Rao will have to have called other people by now. Maybe they’ll know where she is. Maybe this will all blow over and there’ll be another message waiting for me at home with Disey saying that all is well and Marie’s just been quarantined away with the flu or something. Because it’s going around. Look at Dave. Everyone’s getting it. That’s got to be right . . . right?

  But it can’t hurt to check, and I can’t do nothing.

  It doesn’t register with me at all that I’m driving along Finn’s street until I actually see him in his front yard, tossing a footy around with his little brother. I don’t intend to stop but then something hits me – Finn and Marie used to date. Sure, it was for about five minutes, but it wasn’t that long ago. Maybe he . . .?

  I park the car. He doesn’t pay attention until I get out, at which point he looks like he’s torn between running for the hills and punching a wall. ‘Geez, Linford, what is it with you? I already told you I didn’t mean to drop that –’

  ‘Shut up.’

  His brother rolls his eyes. ‘What is it with you and girls, Finn?’

  Haha. Finn’s brother clearly = way more awesome than Finn.
/>   ‘So what, are you stalking me now?’ Finn asks. ‘Because I’m telling you, Linford, if you want –’

  ‘Have you seen Marie?’

  ‘No. Why?’

  ‘She’s missing.’

  ‘Missing?’

  ‘She’s been out of school for a week and no one’s seen her.’

  Finn swears.

  ‘Mum’ll kill you if she hears you say that.’

  ‘Shut up, Matty,’ he says. ‘Have you been to her house?’

  ‘I’ve just been there. I’m heading up to the stables now to have a look around, but I saw you, so I just thought I’d check and see if you knew anything. But you don’t, so bye.’

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ I say firmly. ‘Goodbye.’

  He grabs my arm and I pull away. ‘Do not touch me.’

  ‘Sorry – sorry. Look, two eyes are better than one, yeah?’

  ‘I have two eyes,’ I say tightly.

  ‘You know what I meant! Look, if something did happen to Marie, you can’t go up there by yourself. It’s dangerous.’

  I’m on the point of telling him that I can look after myself perfectly well thank you very much when the memory of the horse comes into my mind, with its glossy black hide and dark, dark eyes. ‘You do anything I even vaguely consider misbehaving, and I will punch you in the teeth,’ I warn him.

  ‘Promise, promise,’ he says, raising his hand. ‘Matty, tell Mum I’ve gone out for a bit, well you?’

  ‘With your giiiiiiiiiirlfriend?!’

  ‘NO!’ both Finn and I say.

  Looks like there is one thing we can agree on.

  ‘Check my phone, will you?’ I tell him as we pull away from his house. ‘I sent out a group text earlier asking if anyone’s seen her – someone might have replied.’

  He scrolls through my phone. ‘What’s your pincode?’

  ‘1402.’

  He looks at me sideways. ‘Your birthday?’

  ‘Our birthday,’ I correct.

  His. Mine. Cardy’s.

  Marie’s.

  ‘Are there any replies?’ I ask.

  ‘Three,’ he says. ‘All negative.’