by Cat Clarke
Jamie leaned next to me. ‘She always looked up to me, you know. Even when I did things I wasn’t necessarily proud of. When we were little she’d always copy everything I did and want to hang out with me and my friends. Sometimes it was annoying – my mates didn’t really appreciate always having a girl follow us around – but mostly it was kind of sweet.’ He stopped talking and I realized he was trying not to cry. He blinked hard and shook his head, managing to control himself. ‘It’s weird, cos Mum and Dad are busy blaming themselves for what they think Alex has done, and Alex’s blaming herself for hurting you, and all the time I’m wondering if there’s something I did. Or didn’t do. Maybe if I’d been there for her more, she’d have felt like she could have come and talked to me about things instead of being all secretive. I might have been able to stop this whole thing from happening.’
People always blame themelves, don’t they? Even when there’s no possible way they could be held accountable, people always find a way. I think it’s because we like to think that we matter – that everything we do has an effect on other people. I didn’t believe for a second that Alex pretended to be a boy just because she looked up to her older brother. The only person who knew the real reason she’d done it was her, and I’d never even given her the chance to explain.
‘You can’t blame yourself.’ If the situation had been different I might have hugged him, or at least patted his arm.
Jamie turned to look at me. We were standing closer to each other now. I found myself thinking that he was really very attractive. What would have happened if he’d been the one on the forum instead of Alex? Nothing, in all probability. He was three years older than me and from what Alex said he was very popular with girls. He would never have any reason to look once at me, let alone twice. Even now, in this horrible situation, I could tell he had that confidence that was so appealing to girls. Not to me though. I preferred boys who didn’t think they were God’s gift. Boys like Alex. Ones who don’t exist in real life. Astrid, on the other hand, would be all over Jamie like cheese on nachos.
Jamie was staring at me and I wondered if he was trying to work out what Alex had seen in me. Maybe he was thinking that I wasn’t pretty enough or special enough for her to have gone to all that effort. Maybe he was going to apologize for sort of threatening to blackmail me. Then his blank expression turned dark. ‘I don’t blame myself. I blame you.’
He turned and walked away.
chapter forty
At first I thought he expected me to follow him, but he didn’t look back to check on me. I watched as he walked back down the Promenade, shoulders hunched against the wind. I could almost imagine it was Alex walking away from me but in that little scenario she would be going to buy some takeaway hot chocolate so we could sit on a bench like that old couple. She would hurry back and we would snuggle close to keep warm.
The movie in my head came to an abrupt halt.
She. The Alex in my daydream had been a she. Not my Alex, the boy I’d fallen in love with.
I sat on the bench recently vacated by the old couple. They’d probably gone home to watch Midsomer Murders and have a slice of lemon drizzle cake.
I stared out to sea as the sun went down. It got colder and colder. I took off my hat and gloves and let the coldness nip at my ears and fingers. Before long I was completely alone, apart from the occasional cyclist hurtling along the Promenade. I thought about Alex and Jamie and Astrid and Sergeant Tanaka and back to Alex. It always came back to Alex.
My phone rang and my numb fingers struggled to get it out of my pocket. It was Mum, wondering where I’d got to. Worrying, as usual. I said I was on my way home, and she really didn’t have anything to worry about. I was a big girl and could take care of myself. The silence on the other end of the line told me exactly what Mum thought of that. ‘Do you feel a bit better though?’
‘Yes, I think I do.’ And strangely enough, that was true.
I felt better now I had a plan.
*
After an evening of carb overload and rusty piano-playing, sneaking out of the house was surprisingly easy. Mum could sleep through the zombie apocalypse so I didn’t have to worry about creaking stairs or anything (mostly because we lived in a bungalow). I’d gone to the trouble of arranging some pillows under my duvet to look like a sleeping me, just in case she got up to check on me later. I think I only did that because that’s what people do on TV; there was no way my mother would ever be fooled.
The only other person on the top deck of the bus was a snoring middle-aged man in a black suit and black tie, with a black overcoat on the seat next to him. I sat four seats behind him and watched his head loll from side to side and occasionally jerk upright before lolling again. He’d been at a funeral, that was my guess. No one in his immediate family, but someone close enough to make him want to drink far too much at the wake. Maybe an unrequited love from years ago. He’d probably been meaning to drive home but some sensible person had confiscated his car keys and packed him on to the bus.
I got off the bus on Princes Street. The white lights on the trees were still sparkling and the castle looked like something out of a film set. Everything was closed and there were only a few people around. I walked fast to try and keep warm but by the time I got there my teeth were chattering. There was a light on in the front room – the living room.
I keyed in the number and sent a text message: I’m outside.
I didn’t have to wait long for a reply: You shouldn’t be here. I’m not allowed to talk to you.
I texted back: This won’t take long.
No reply. I waited underneath a lamp post, thinking about Mr Tumnus and lions and witches and wardrobes. I jumped up and down a few times to try to get some feeling back into my legs. I checked the time on my phone. 12.31.
At 12.37 I resigned myself to the fact that this had been a waste of time. At least I’d tried. I started trudging back up the hill towards town and I was about to cross the road when I heard her calling my name in that quiet half-shout people do when they don’t want to draw attention to themselves.
I walked towards her. Her arms were crossed and her hair was damp and slicked back like she’d just got out of the shower. She looked so different to my Alex with her hair like that. You could really see her face. She was wearing a big coat that looked like it might belong to her dad. Underneath that there were a pair of striped pyjama bottoms and hi-top Converse with the laces trailing on the ground.
I wasn’t prepared for the shock of being face-to-face with her. To see those features that I knew so well, those eyes I’d spent hours gazing into, that mouth I’d kissed. The pain was almost too much to bear. But there was something else, lurking behind the pain … Was it relief?
‘Hi,’ I said. I stared at her shoes. Our matching Converse. We’d sat on a bench in Princes Street Gardens one Saturday and I’d taken a picture of our feet. I’d texted it to Alex that night, saying we were ‘solemates’. I’d thought I was so clever.
‘Hi,’ she said, eyes on the pavement. She waited for me to say something then shook her head when the silence went on for too long. ‘Listen, whatever it is you have to say you’d better be quick. Mum and Dad would freak if they knew you were here.’
‘Same here. Well, I mean, my mum would freak. My dad wouldn’t even … Um … How are you?’ Our breath formed icy clouds as we spoke. We weren’t standing close enough for the clouds to mingle.
Finally she looked me in the eyes. ‘I’ve got court in the morning.’ That didn’t answer my question but told me everything I needed to know. ‘Why are you here?’
‘I wanted to ask you something.’ She waited. ‘I … Oh God, it seems stupid now. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’m just going to go. Forget I was here, OK?’
She sighed. ‘You’re here now so you might as well just spit it out.’ Her voice was softer, but still impatient.
‘I … wanted to know why you did it.’
‘Did what?’ But I could tell from the l
ook in her eyes that she knew what I was talking about.
‘Why you let me think you were a boy. You knew I liked you, didn’t you? Before we even met, I mean.’
Alex sighed again and for a second I thought she wasn’t going to answer. She looked up at the sky before her gaze locked on to mine. ‘I didn’t think it was possible that someone like you would like someone like me. And I didn’t think it was possible for me to like you either.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re a girl.’ She said this so quietly I wondered if I’d misheard.
This made no sense whatsoever. ‘So you’re not …?’
‘Gay? It’s OK, you know. You can say the word. It’s not going to infect you or anything.’ She didn’t say this with spite or venom – more a sort of weary sadness. ‘I don’t know what I am. And I honestly don’t even care anymore. Straight or gay or bi or whatever, people can think what they want. What does it matter, anyway? People are people.’ This sounded rehearsed, like something she’d been telling herself over and over again.
Alex was right: people are people. And people deserve to be told the truth about what they were getting themselves into. ‘You could have told me though. That you weren’t a boy.’
‘Yeah, cos that’s really easy to slip into the conversation. Not awkward at all.’ And there it was, a tiniest hint of the smile I’d loved.
‘You should have told me.’ The tiny smile was gone.
‘I know.’ Very matter of fact.
‘I can’t believe you went to all that effort. It must have been stressful.’ Such a banal thing to say.
Alex shrugged. ‘It’s amazing the things you’ll do when you’re …’ She looked down and some of her hair fell in front of her eyes. And just like that my Alex was standing in front of me.
‘When you’re what?’ My throat felt like it was closing up, trying to stop me from asking the question.
Alex’s eyes met mine and I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to. ‘When you’re in love.’
I’d known, I suppose. Of course I’d known. Love makes people do crazy things. Once you’ve found it you’ll do anything in your power to keep it. I knew because I’d felt the same way. I blinked hard in an effort not to cry.
Alex coughed awkwardly. ‘Is that all? I’d better get back inside. Got to get my beauty sleep for tomorrow.’ She didn’t sound bitter or angry, and I couldn’t understand why.
The full force of it all hit me at that moment. What had I been thinking? How had I let this happen? Somewhere along the line I’d managed to forget that this was real life and it’s messy and difficult and people will hurt you but that doesn’t give you a licence to destroy them.
I panicked. ‘You have to tell them you didn’t do it!’
‘Didn’t do what?’ She was going to make me say the words out loud, to admit what I was accusing her of.
‘You know … assault me. You have to take back your confession. They’ll send you to prison!’
‘I thought that was what you wanted.’
‘No! I … I made a mistake, OK?’ My voice cracked and the tears began to flow. ‘It’s not what you think! I said something to Mum and she got the wrong idea and then she called the police. I swear I didn’t know she was going to do that. But when the police came to interview me I felt … I don’t know … I hated you for lying to me and I was too scared to tell the truth. I’m sorry! You have to tell them you didn’t do it. They’ll believe you. I’m sure the police thought I was lying anyway, but then you confessed and I suppose they thought you’d never confess to something you hadn’t done …’ The words eventually lost their battle against the rising sobs. My shoulders shook and I was so ashamed for crying – so ashamed for everything – that I didn’t know what to do. Was I expecting Alex to comfort me? To hug me and hold me and stroke my hair and say everything was going to be OK? That was never going to happen. She would never touch me again.
Alex shook her head. ‘It’s too late. No one will believe me. They’ll just think I got cold feet about pleading guilty.’
‘But you didn’t do anything!’ I shouted and the noise seemed to echo off the darkened windows looking down on us.
Alex took a step towards me. ‘I hurt you,’ she said quietly. ‘Even if I didn’t do what they think I did, I still hurt you.’ Her gaze was steady on mine. ‘I’ll never be able to forgive myself for that. I don’t care what happens tomorrow. None of it matters anymore.’
‘But you’re going to go to prison! This is your life we’re talking about, Alex!’ I wanted to shake her, make her realize how crazy this was.
‘I don’t care. I’ve seen what they’re saying about me online, you know. Maybe after a year or two in a Young Offenders place the heat will die down and I’ll be able to get on with things. Maybe it’s best for both of us if I disappear for a bit.’ Who was she trying to convince?
‘No! Alex!’
She took another step towards me. ‘I want you to know that I understand why you did it. Why you said that to the police. I hurt you so you hurt me back. I get that.’
How could she be so calm when I was in the process of destroying her life? ‘I’m sorry! This is all … how did it all go so wrong?! It was so … I thought you were the best thing that ever happened to me.’ No, that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to say. ‘You were the best thing that ever happened to me.’
Alex smiled wistfully and started backing away from me. ‘It could have been good, you know. In another lifetime, maybe.’
‘It was good. Please, Alex, you have to tell them you lied. They’ll find you not guilty, I’m sure of it.’ I tried to sound less hysterical, desperate to make her see my point of view. A scattering of snowflakes started to fall and the scene might have been romantic. In another lifetime, maybe.
‘They won’t listen to me. There’s only one person they’ll listen to.’ Her voice was gentle; she knew this wasn’t what I wanted to hear.
I started to speak and then stopped. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Mum would never forgive me. If Alex changed her plea to not guilty, they’d find her innocent (they would, wouldn’t they?) but no one would have to know I’d lied. They’d just think there wasn’t enough evidence for a conviction or something. And even if everyone else did think I’d lied about what happened to me, Mum would still believe me. And maybe one day …
‘Alex, I can’t.’
She backed away another couple of steps, still holding my eyes with hers. ‘I know.’
Her hand was reaching out to open the front door.
Say something.
She was opening the door.
Stop her.
‘Goodbye, Kate.’
She was gone.
I was lost.
chapter forty-one
I didn’t move. The snow turned into icy rain. The light in the front room went out. Before long I was shivering uncontrollably. I watched the door even though I didn’t expect it to open again. I wondered how long I could stay out in this cold before I would die. If I curled up into a little ball on Alex’s front doorstep would I be dead by morning? Would Alex come outside, all dressed up for court, and find me frozen to death, a fine layer of ice blanketing my body? No one would be able to hate me if I was dead.
Eventually I started walking back up the hill. It was hard to walk at first – my joints were Tin-Man stiff. I should never have come. Seeing Alex again hadn’t solved anything; there was no closure. There was just a heaviness in my heart that wouldn’t go away, and the picture in my head of her backing away from me. I’d never forget the way she looked at me – the sadness and the understanding and the love. The love was definitely still there; I wasn’t imagining it. How could she still love me after what I’d done?
I had to wait twenty-five minutes for a night bus. There was a couple in the bus shelter. They looked like students. He was sitting on the bench and she was standing between his legs. They did a lot of kissing. I moved down to the other end of the bench, stealing glances at them every
once in a while. Life must be so easy for them. She’s a girl and he’s a boy and that’s that. No one would ever give them weird looks for kissing or holding hands in public.
It was after two o’clock by the time I put my key in the front door. I was cold and exhausted and full to the brim with self-loathing. I changed into a hoodie and tracksuit bottoms and my thickest, warmest pair of socks and got into bed. I checked my phone before turning out the light. No new messages.
I didn’t sleep.
*
I got up an hour before Mum’s alarm went off, took a long shower and was sitting at the breakfast table sipping a cup of tea by the time she came through.
‘Morning, love. How are you feeling? Did you sleep OK?’
‘Fine, thanks.’
She put some bread in the toaster and went to get the jam out of the fridge. ‘I hope you’re not too worried about today. Sergeant Tanaka said she’d keep us informed so I’ll text you as soon as there’s news. We should hear something this morning.’
‘OK.’
Mum stopped what she was doing and looked at me. ‘Oh, Kate. It will all be over soon, I promise. That girl will be sent away and you’ll never have to worry about her again.’
I nodded.
‘You know, there aren’t many girls your age who’d have had the courage to speak out about something like this.’ Like I’d had any choice in the matter. She sat down next to me and squeezed my hand, which was clammy and warm from holding the mug of tea. ‘It makes me think I must have done something right, at least. I’m proud of you.’
She was proud of me.
When she carried on preparing her breakfast I sent a lightning-fast text. The reply arrived before Mum had even sat down.