“A-ha!” Sophie said, finally, lifting the second to last jacket away from the others and inspecting it thoroughly before presenting it to her impossibly hard to please associate. “Is that ‘less red’ enough for you?”
George lifted the front flap and examined the grey lining. It was still very shiny, but not red, or blue, or, thankfully, pink.
“Well?” Sophie prompted. “And if you dare tell me it’s too grey I swear to God I’ll…”
“It’s fine,” George said quickly. “Let’s just find some trousers to go with it and get out of here.” He was usually a very enthusiastic shopper, but not today.
“Hallelujah!” she declared triumphantly. The trousers were the easy bit and five minutes later, they left the ‘vintage’ clothes shop with a full and authentic outfit. Now George just needed to find some shoes and get his hair trimmed, and they were done: all before lunchtime. Josh was working, so they decided to head back to the house for something to eat, seeing as they’d spent far too much time and money in the tea shop already this week. George made cheese sandwiches and took them through to the lounge, where Sophie was examining the décor.
“Sean’s got that wallpaper,” she said. “Best not tell Josh that though, I’m thinking.”
“I already did. He didn’t seem to care much, actually. Here.” He indicated to her to sit on the sofa and handed her a plate.
“They do seem to be getting along better these days,” she observed.
“Yeah. Just as well really.”
After that neither of them spoke for a while, both busily munching their lunch and thinking back to how awkward things had been during the first term of their course, with Josh and Sean always at loggerheads. Their impromptu Christmas night out seemed to have brought an end to hostilities for the most part; there were still the occasional snipes at each other, although nothing compared to how it had been.
Sophie finished eating first and leaned forward to put her plate on the table, in the process spotting the game on top of the games console.
“Crash Team Racing. I haven’t played that for years,” she said, kneeling down to retrieve the case.
“It’s one of our favourites,” George explained. “Always good for a bit of friendly competition.”
“Maybe we could get them to fight it out on this instead,” Sophie suggested. George laughed.
“That’s not a bad idea,” he said. She still had the case in her hand, and he took it from her and turned on the console. “Come on then.”
“Yay!” she said excitedly. He passed her a controller. “What are we playing for?”
“Err, how about lunch next Thursday?”
“Why Thursday?”
“I’m at the prison on Monday and Tuesday, and then it’s James’s stag do, so I’ll be fit for nothing on Wednesday.”
“I thought you were giving up the prison.”
“I am, but I haven’t got round to it yet.”
“Just email them and tell them. I’m sure Sean and Josh will support your decision.”
“Yeah, I suppose I could do that,” George said thoughtfully. “All right then, lunch all next week. Except maybe not Wednesday. I’ll see how I feel.”
“Deal,” she said and perched on the edge of the sofa cushion. “I’m so going to kick your ass.”
“Ha! I don’t think so.”
George set up a new game and typed in their names, ready for the tournament to commence. The first two races went to Sophie, but soon they were level and stayed that way until it rested on the last race of the cup. Now things got really dirty, with them throwing everything they had at each other. As they came into the final straight, they were ‘neck and neck’ and crashing so often in their attempts to knock one another off the track that the rest of the characters had long since passed the finish line, but out of the pair of them it was Sophie who crossed first, by a fraction of a second. She leapt up from the sofa, punching the air in victory.
“Hardly a convincing win, was it?” George scoffed.
“Ooh! Someone’s a sore loser!” Sophie said, making an ‘L’ against her forehead with her thumb and index finger.
“Definitely a fluke. I say we go for best of three.”
“You’re on!”
George restarted the game and they were off again, and he easily won the first race, but by the fourth he was wishing he’d bowed out gracefully after round one. At the end of the cup, Sophie threw down her controller and did a lap of the coffee table in celebration.
“Damn,” George said defeatedly. “I guess lunch is on me!”
“Yup!” Sophie smiled. “I guess it is!” No time for a rematch, she helped George wash up, then left him to his afternoon of getting ready for the reunion party, but not without a quick restating of her superiority in the Crash Team Racing stakes on her way out.
“Told you I’d kick your ass,” she said, giving him a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Now, you have a fab time tonight. Drink too much, dance embarrassingly and just enjoy yourself.”
“I’ll try.”
“You better had. I want to hear all about it, over lunch next week.” She grinned and George raised his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll beat you next time,” he called after her as she bounced down the path, stopping at the gate to wave her fists in the air. George laughed and waved her off, then closed the door. “Time for a shower, I suppose,” he said, glancing around the house to see if there were any other opportunities for further delaying getting ready. It was still only early afternoon, but when Josh returned he’d want the bathroom to be free so he could have a long, hot bath, and then he’d faff about with his hair for an hour or so, styling and restyling it, gelling it down, then washing out the gel and starting all over again. By the time he was done, it would look exactly the same as it always did, which was perfectly fine by George on any day of the week. With these thoughts in mind, he turned off the TV and trudged upstairs with the enthusiasm of a man going to the gallows.
Adele pulled another tissue from the glitzy cube-shaped box and dabbed at her eyes, sniffing loudly. Little Shaunna was playing with her doll, the only intermission in Adele’s misery being the declaration of ‘I-do-it’ as the recently stripped toy was passed to her to be re-dressed once again. She didn’t want to go to this rotten reunion in the first place. Of course, it’d be an entirely different matter if Dan were here, but he wasn’t and he’d sounded so poorly on the phone that she’d struggled to find things to say to him that didn’t involve asking if he was OK uncountable times. Even in his weakened state, he’d snapped at her in irritation and she couldn’t take it. But that wasn’t why she was crying. It was all Jess’s fault. She sobbed again, dumped the sodden tissue ball with the others on the sofa and took another from the box. The baby toddled around the edge of the table and held out the doll.
“I-do-it?” she asked hopefully. Adele smiled at her daughter and took the doll and the little pile of clothes. And there was another thing.
As if she was still going to have her original ball gown! She didn’t have the outfits she’d worn last summer, let alone those from twenty years ago. With her ‘passion for fashion’, there was no way she could possibly store all those clothes, and she was ruthless in getting rid of the ones she didn’t want anymore, which was more or less all of them. The contents of her wardrobe were only ever as old as the latest trend; no room for sentimental holding on to ‘this skirt’ or ‘that dress’, simply because it prompted fond memories. If she’d wanted to go tonight, then she’d have immediately gone shopping for something new, but it was almost five o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. It just wasn’t going to happen. Dan reassured her that he didn’t mind at all, but then he would say that now, before the event. A few months on and he’d be throwing it right back in her face, with unfounded accusations of what she’d been up to in his absence. So she wasn’t going and that was that. She’d sent Shaunna a text message to the same effect, which didn’t lead to the anticipated relief she’d expected at
getting herself out of it, given her reply of “u bloody well are! x”. Why bother putting a kiss at the end? Shaunna just didn’t understand, and now she’d fallen out with Jess too, so it was all so pointless. She stifled a further sob with a gulp and handed the newly dressed baby doll back to little Shaunna, then re-armed herself with yet another fresh tissue.
Whichever way she looked at it, she couldn’t see what Jess’s problem was. All right, so it made sense not to tell Dan and Andy about the reunion a couple of days ago, because they more than likely would’ve tried to get home for it, but now they couldn’t, it really didn’t matter that they knew, and she hadn’t meant to tell him. That was the worst part. If she’d done it on purpose, then at least she’d have something to feel guilty about, but it just slipped out. Anyway, they knew now and there was nothing she could do to change that, so Jess was going to have to get on with it. Adele sniffed resolutely, dumped the discarded tissues in the bin and went to make a cup of tea. Just as the kettle boiled, the doorbell chimed and she knew instantly who it would be. She had to have some kind of tea detector. It was the only possible explanation.
“Hi,” Shaunna smiled breathlessly, having marched round immediately after responding to the text message.
“Hi,” Adele replied and turned her back. Shaunna followed her into the kitchen and eyed the recently made tea.
“Perfect timing,” she grinned, getting herself a tea bag and a cup and placing it next to Adele’s.
“Yes. How do you do that, by the way? Can you smell it or something?”
“That’s probably it,” Shaunna laughed. Adele shook her head and filled the second cup, handing it to her friend. They took their tea through to the lounge, where little Shaunna held out her naked doll to adult Shaunna.
“I-do-it?” she asked, blinking her big brown eyes. Shaunna took the doll from her and waited while the toddler retrieved the pile of clothes from the floor, passing over one item at a time, which she duly replaced on the doll, talking to Adele as she did so.
“Tell me again why you’re not coming tonight.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“A couple of Martinis and you’ll be fine.”
“And with Dan being sick I…I just don’t want to go.”
“That’s rubbish. It’s not because he’s sick at all. It’s because he’s not here, but don’t you worry about that. I’ll make sure he knows how much you missed him and what a horrible night you had without him, and how you didn’t drink, or dance, or talk to anyone because you were so miserable.”
“And Jess called me a stupid bint,” Adele added.
“She calls you that all the time. It doesn’t normally bother you.” She handed the doll back to her tiny namesake. “Ta,” she said.
“Ta,” Little Shaunna repeated, immediately re-commencing the clothes removal procedure.
“Anyway, why did she call you a stupid bint?”
“Because I told Dan about tonight.”
“Right,” Shaunna frowned. “And that’s a problem because?”
“She said they’d try and find a way to get back for the reunion.”
“Surely it would take too long? Isn’t the flight, like, eight hours?”
“Even longer than that, I think. Which is exactly what I mean. What does it matter? I didn’t tell him on purpose. I wasn’t trying to spite her, or anything.”
“Well, as you say, it doesn’t matter, hun, which is why you are still coming tonight.” Adele opened her mouth to protest, but Shaunna put her hand up. “I don’t care what Dan has to say about it. I want you to come. I missed the first one, remember? This is my sixth form ball and I want to spend it with my best friend.”
Adele couldn’t argue with that. However, there was still the matter of having nothing to wear, but yet again Shaunna pre-empted the protest with a show of her palm. “You asked Alice to babysit tonight, yes?” Adele nodded to confirm she had. “Phone her and see if she can come now. We’re going emergency shopping.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
THE NEWS ARRIVES
Andy was furious to begin with, but by the time he’d got through to Jess again, his anger had expanded into something so massive that he could hardly speak; she wasn’t saying much either. He knew exactly why she hadn’t mentioned the reunion, and it had nothing to do with stopping him trying to fly home, not that it would have been an option at any point, let alone with only hours to go before it was due to start. The boredom was bad enough, without this to contend with and he couldn’t stand to be in the hotel a moment longer. He put on his trainers and went running.
A couple of hours on and he was still none the calmer for it. This wasn’t the first time she’d kept something from him. In fact it was starting to become something of a habit. First the shopping addiction, then the dates with Kevin Callaghan last year, which was, quite frankly, idiotic, because she’d put herself in great danger by being secretive, not that any of them knew it at the time, but the way he was feeling that was by-the-by. Running at this altitude was hard-going, which was all the better, because if he didn’t drain this rage from his system he’d end up killing someone. As it was, anybody who happened to inadvertently get in his way became the unwitting victim of a muttered string of expletives that fortunately they could neither hear nor understand. Friendship with benefits? What fucking benefits? The adrenaline kicked in again and Andy increased his pace as he turned a corner, right on time to run straight into a man carrying two large bins filled almost to the brim with tiny, brightly coloured, round beads, which predictably flew out of his hands, their contents exploding into the air and rolling off in all directions.
“Oh shit,” he said, slowing to a stop. “Sorry. Sorry, I’m so sorry.”
The market stall owner glared at him, a look of pure fury on his face. There was little else Andy could do, other than stay and help retrieve the beads, all the while repeating his apology, whilst other traders packed up for the night and shouted questions about what had happened. Needless to say, the anger he had been feeling prior to the collision was now matched by that of the stall owner, but even in his current state, Andy could appreciate the humour in what had happened, with passers-by slipping and sliding as if on ice, apparently in too much of a hurry to stop and wait for safe passage. It took nearly half an hour to gather all of the beads that hadn’t rolled out of view or been scooped up by local children eager for a freebie, by which point he was almost his usual self, and made his way back to the hotel, taking a little more care this time. A good, long shower, something to eat and drink and he was feeling much calmer, until, that is, he arrived back at the hospital.
“Alright, bro?” Andy called on his way into the room. Dan stirred and turned to face him.
“Yeah. I’m OK.” It was a statement derived from social nicety rather than truth. “Did you see the doctor?”
“I didn’t. I can go and get him for you, if you like.”
“No, he wanted to speak to you, that’s all.”
“Oh right. What about?”
“Something to do with quarantine. Not sure, to be honest.”
“Hmm. OK. Well, he knows where to find me,” Andy said, already wondering how long he needed to stay before it would be acceptable to leave again, not that he had anywhere better to be. He wanted to go home, to sort out this situation with Jess. He wanted to be at the reunion, to make sure nothing happened, and there was not a damned thing he could do about any of it. He felt the anger attempting to resurface and pushed it back down inside.
“What time is it?” Dan asked. Andy checked the clock on his phone.
“Quarter past nine.”
Dan nodded to indicate his understanding and his eyes drooped shut again. This was how it had been for the past two days: short periods where he seemed almost back to normal, followed by relapses into drowsiness and sleep as his immune system attempted to rebuild its defences. Yet again, Andy gave thanks for Dan being such a fitness fanatic. This was the virus that had already killed lesser mortals,
although he could also sense his anger turning towards his brother and was trying to rationalise it. Too much time to think: that was the problem, and he’d forgotten to bring his tablet with him again. He still had his phone in his hand and wondered whether the cost was worth it for a few minutes of trying to open a web page only to give up because the connection was so flaky. Before he reached a decision, the doctor came into the room, wearing what could only be described as a biohazard suit.
“Ah. Good. You’re here. I’ll get a bed for you,” he said, picking up Dan’s chart and flicking through the various sheets of paper.
“Sorry?” Andy had no idea what the doctor was talking about.
“I told your brother earlier. He has not told you?”
“Told me what?”
“The World Health Organisation have put out a quarantine directive.”
“Dan mentioned quarantine, but that’s all he said. What does that mean?”
“I’m afraid you have to stay here, until we run tests to see if you have been infected or not.”
“Are you kidding me?” Andy could feel his hands balling into fists, the pulse in his temple quickening, the hairs all over his body prickling.
“We’ll take samples right away, and if they are clear you can leave, but you won’t be able to come back to visit. This room is now closed to anyone other than staff, and we must take all steps…”
The Harder They Fall Page 11