‘That’s not all,’ he says. ‘Look what else there was.’
He hands me a letter. My name is written on the envelope in silver gel pen in a strong, looping handwriting I know better than my own.
‘I’m going to go,’ Ryan says. ‘Give you some space, OK? Because this is kind of a big deal, right? But whatever the letter says … Well, I’m here for you, Eden. I promise. I’ll text you – or you text me, if you need me. See you later!’
He picks up the bucket, heads along the path and walks briskly along the road, Rocket at his heels.
My fingers shake as I open the envelope, draw out the pages, I sit down on the doorstep in the afternoon sun and begin to read.
51
Andie
Dear Eden,
Oh, it sounds so stupid being all formal and serious. We don’t really do serious, and we definitely don’t do fights and fall-outs and long, long silences. What can I say? I was really out of order at the sleepover. Over-the-top. Mean, spiteful, grade-A bitch. I don’t know why I said those things really. I was just so hurt.
I was so sure that would be the night me and Ryan got together, and … well, it wasn’t. I saw you slip and hurt your ankle, but I didn’t care because I wanted to keep on dancing with Ryan. I pretended not to see. And of course Ryan stopped dancing and went to help you and I was so, so angry. I tried not to care, I really did, but I was jealous. I think I knew all along that Ryan had a crush on you. I’d just pushed it to the back of my mind, blocked it out.
I knew you wouldn’t flirt with Ryan, anyway, because we’d talked so much about how much I liked him. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t seen the sadness in your eyes when we did that, but that was another thing I chose to push away. But yeah, I knew you liked him too.
And then I saw him try to kiss you, and I went a little bit crazy. Ryan liked you best, and deep down I knew he always had. Anger flooded through me like poison – anger and hurt. You were supposed to put me first, Eden. That’s the way it’s always been. I felt betrayed, and I didn’t care how upset you were, that you were saying sorry, crying. It didn’t matter what Hasmita, Tash or Ryan said, I couldn’t back down. I watched you go home that night with a sad, sick anger. I never wanted to see you again. I pressed delete on every text you sent, told my parents I wouldn’t speak to you if you rang. I was glad to be going to Scotland, because it meant I didn’t have to see you, didn’t have to listen to Ryan bleating about how nothing actually happened, how cruel I was being.
I won’t lie, Eden. I was so, so hurt.
Scotland is awesome, by the way. The sun has shone all week and we’ve practically lived on the beach. I was glad at first that it’s been raining back home. Serves you right, I thought. But I guess the sun has warmed me up, calmed me down. The anger isn’t directed at you any more, Eden, it’s directed at me. I knew you liked Ryan, knew he liked you, but I tried to control you by telling you how much I loved him, getting you to help set us up. I was relying on your loyalty to get what I wanted, and that wasn’t fair. I can see that now.
Well, the whole thing backfired big time, right?
I lost you and I lost Ryan, and Hasmita and Tash aren’t exactly impressed with me either right now. Mum and Dad know something’s wrong because I’ve been so miserable all week, but I can’t talk to them about it; some holiday, huh? I haven’t been joining in much, just lying on the beach with Ryan’s Harry Potter book, and it’s brilliant, sure, but I can’t even concentrate on that because I’m all mixed up, all upset.
I got your last text and I know how angry you are with me, and all I can say is that I deserve that anger. I deserve to lose you, but I really, really hope I haven’t.
I feel like such an idiot, Eden.
The only person I want to talk to is you. I miss you and I know I won’t have the guts to say all this on the phone, and besides, you’d have every right to cut the call or block me or whatever after all that has happened. So I’m writing it down, and if I can just get hold of a stamp and an envelope I will post it, and if not I will turn up on your doorstep the first day we’re back from Scotland and deliver it in person. Even if you’re mad, even if you slam the door on me, I’ll make sure you get this letter.
I have been a rubbish friend, Eden, and I’m sorry. I was hurt and angry and selfish, and I didn’t stop to think about you or Ryan. OK, I will find it hard if you and he start seeing each other, but you know what? I’ll get over it. I will. I am not going to let this come between me and my best friends in the whole, entire world.
All I know is that I’m miserable without you, Eden. Please say that you’ll forgive me. I have been so, so stupid and I’m scared I’ve lost you. That can’t happen, Eden, because I care about you way too much.
I’ll make it right, I promise.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please say you’ll forgive me.
Love you loads, forever and always,
Andie oxox
52
Ryan
I rang the hospital and told them I was Miss Smith’s nephew, and they told me she’d been discharged to the nursing home. ‘Which nursing home?’ I asked, and the receptionist told me she wasn’t at liberty to disclose that, and besides, I ought to know because I’d arranged it.
I hung up and went through the Yellow Pages; I pretended to be her great-nephew this time, and the sixth nursing home I called told me she was just settling in but I could visit if I liked.
I said I’d be there within the hour. I drop the letter off with Eden, then walk across town to the Silver Bay Nursing Home. They try to stop me bringing Rocket in, even though I pretend he’s a therapy dog, and when they spot the fish in the bucket I think they will actually throw me out. In the end one of the carers shakes her head and takes me through to see Miss Smith.
She’s sitting up in bed, the blue shawl tucked round her shoulders, and she looks a lot better than she did last night. Her room is small and impersonal, but at least it’s not part of a hospital ward.
‘Peter!’ she exclaims, her face lighting up. ‘I thought I’d dreamed you! And Patch!’
‘I’ve brought you Fish and Chips,’ I say, holding out the bucket. ‘From the pond? I thought you could have them in a tank. I’d get you one, only I’m all out of cash and they were much easier to carry in a bucket.’
‘We can get a tank for them,’ the carer offers. ‘Put them in the lounge. The clients will love it!’
‘Am I going home soon?’ Miss Smith asks, and I tell her she is, even though it’s not true.
‘I’m sorry about the javelin,’ I tell her. ‘I didn’t mean it, and I’ve learned my lesson. I’m going to change. I’m not hanging round with Buzz and Chris any more, and I’m going to join the running team at school.’
‘Oh, you were always good at running,’ Miss Smith says. ‘You got a certificate!’
‘Maybe I will again,’ I say. ‘I’ll make you proud, Miss Smith – and Mum and Dad, too. I’m going to ask Mr Khan to find me a counsellor, somewhere outside school, and I’ll see if I can dig the anger out and let go of it for good. Maybe Eden will do that, too. And I’m going to come to see you every week, Miss Smith, I promise you. Every week until you go home.’
‘You’re a good boy, Peter,’ she says, and I grin, because I want to be that again, I really do.
I leave the nursing home and set off at a sprint, trying to outrun the events of last night. Paper cranes, an old lady who t
hinks I am her long-dead son, a goldfish kidnap, the past coming finally to the surface like the wreck of a once-great galleon, broken and terrible in its beauty.
I run and Rocket runs and we go on running until we are exhausted, until the breath burns in my chest and the muscles ache in my legs, because that way I know I’m alive, alive, alive. My feet slow to a standstill and I look up at the clear blue sky and gulp in fresh air. I’m out on the edge of town, an area I never come to. There’s a big green space to one side of me, rolling grass and ancient willow trees, and across the way there’s a street of shops, small and local and well looked after, including a pizzeria that says it opens at seven.
I slip through the wrought-iron gates and into the quiet, tree-lined green space, and find a place to curl up and sleep beneath the willow trees.
53
Eden
A million thoughts swirl around my head, too fleeting to pin down; sadness, regret, grief, loss – and relief, too. Acceptance. It has been a long time coming. Andie didn’t hate me after all; she was angry, she was jealous, she lashed out – but she was sorry. She just never got the chance to tell me that.
Two years is a long time to believe your best friend hated you, and it’s a very long time to hate yourself. Something twists free inside me, sad and sharp and painful. It lifts away from my shoulders like a burden I no longer have to carry, dissolves into nothing on the late afternoon air. There is still a hole in my heart, a place that hurts, but the poison has gone and I feel brighter, braver, stronger.
Can someone reach out from beyond the grave, walk back into your life and fix things for you? Maybe, if you’ve been making as much of a mess of it as I was. A dead girl’s fashion and friendship advice changed my life, helped put the Heart Club back together. Tasha’s coming over in the October break; her parents have booked the flight, and Ryan, Hasmita and I are going to go to France next summer. Andie believed in magic, in stardust and miracles and paper cranes, but for the last two years I haven’t believed in anything, not even myself. Maybe it’s time to change that?
I click on my mobile, search for Andie’s messages, but my inbox has no trace of any of them. Did I imagine them? Were they ever there at all? I smile, grab my jacket and head outside.
There are so many ways to say goodbye.
I take a walk through the park and watch the little kids running across the grass, playing on the swings, laughing, singing, living. I used to be like that once; maybe, just maybe, I could be again.
I pass a flower bed where someone has knocked against some of the tall, white blooms. One lies snapped and broken on the path in front of me, petals unfurling, perfect, beautiful. It makes me think of Andie.
I pick it up and keep on walking, through the park and away from town, down less familiar streets.
I am not the kind of person who usually visits graveyards, trust me. I do not buy cheap flowers and kneel on the grass and cry. I just like to walk through sometimes, under the willow trees, where everything is green and calm and peaceful. I do not stop, I do not pray, I do not kid myself it’ll make me feel any better.
It’s just that sometimes it helps me to feel close to Andie.
The place is quiet, except for a few old ladies arranging flowers and fetching water from the taps. I try not to look across towards where Andie is buried, but as always, I just can’t help it. So I look, and my eyes open wide.
A boy and a dog are sitting on the velvety grass beside the gravestone. The boy has unkempt wavy hair and grey eyes, and he is eating takeaway pizza straight from the box. He sees me and his cheeks flare pink, as though he has been caught smoking behind the school gym. His arm jerks upwards into a wave. ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Eden!’
‘Ryan,’ I say. ‘Great minds think alike, huh?’
Rocket bounds towards me, tail waving, and I duck down to stroke his fur, hold him close, then step off the path and walk over to Ryan. He pats the ground beside him and I sink down on the daisy-scattered grass.
Without thinking, I start picking daisies, weaving them into a tiny, bracelet-sized chain, the way I used to do for Andie long ago.
‘I’ve never visited her grave before,’ he tells me. ‘Stupid, right?’
‘Not so stupid.’ I shrug. ‘I come sometimes, just to be near, but she’s not here, not really, is she?’
‘I don’t think so, no.’
Ryan offers me a slice of pizza. It’s cheese and pineapple, the kind he always ordered for Andie.
‘Your favourite,’ I say, knowing it really isn’t. Typical Ryan, still thinking of what Andie liked, two years on.
‘I could get to like it, eventually.’ He frowns. ‘It’s just the pineapple that I’m not sure about.’
‘So why not order cheese and tomato, or pepperoni, or something you do like?’ I suggest.
‘No, I’ll stick with cheese and pineapple,’ he says. ‘I expect it’s an acquired taste. You can’t rush these things.’
He picks the pineapple pieces off, sets them neatly along the granite plinth beneath the gravestone. I imagine the birds and squirrels coming after we’ve gone and eating the pineapple, leaving everything neat and tidy again.
I put the daisy-chain bracelet on the gravestone too, beside the bits of pineapple, and the broken white flower from the park. I fish the crumpled paper crane Ryan gave me weeks ago in the school library out of my pocket and sit it on the marble ledge, tweaking its wings until it looks like it could fly.
I remember Andie’s paper-crane craze, remember the story of Sadako who thought that if she could just make one thousand paper cranes she would get any wish she wanted. I only made three hundred, but perhaps I got my wish after all. I got to see Andie again, make things right, make a fresh start.
‘My mum comes and puts flowers here, sometimes,’ Ryan tells me. ‘She comes in case nobody else does, now that the family have moved away. She says that sometimes there are flowers there already. Was that you?’
‘I left flowers on her birthday, once,’ I say. ‘And holly and mistletoe at Christmas. Once, I left Jammie Dodgers because they were her favourite.’
‘Two years of trying to cope alone,’ Ryan says. ‘How come it took us so long to work out that it couldn’t be done; that we needed each other?’
‘You tell me,’ I sigh.
I stretch out my fingers and touch the gravestone, trace the letters engraved on its surface. Andie isn’t here, but still, I’m lucky. I had the chance to say goodbye after all, to say how much she meant to me. I had the chance to put my arms round my best friend and breathe in that sweet vanilla scent, hold her one last time.
It wasn’t enough; how could it be? But still it was something.
I’d give anything to see her again, even now.
We stand up to go, and Ryan puts his hand in mine. It feels easy and natural, like we’re meant to walk that way, fingers tightly entwined. The light is fading as we walk away, and the sun is setting.
I look back as we walk out through the gate, and that’s when I see her, running along the grass among the gravestones, trailing a skipping rope. She is no more than four or five, a little girl in a red plastic apron, with blonde pigtails streaked with purple, pink and green. She waves, and I see the daisy-chain bracelet on her wrist, and then she turns away and is gone, lost in the lengthening shadows.
Thanks …
As always, thanks to Liam, Cait and Cal, and to all of my lovely family. Big hugs to Helen, Sheena, Fiona, Lal, Mel, Jessie and all of my fab friends. Hats off to Ruth, my PA, to lovely Annie who arranges my tours, and to Martyn who does the numbers stuff. Thanks to
Darley and his team for being generally awesome.
Special thanks to my fab editors, Amanda and Carmen; to Erin for the stunning cover artwork; and to Puffins Sam, Mary-Jane, Tania, Julia and the wonderful Roz for all the help and support.
Thanks to the original Heart Club, wherever you may be now … your inspiration helped to create this story. The last and biggest thank-you is for YOU, my readers … when the going gets tough, you guys keep me going.
Look out for another special
treat from Cathy …
Alice nearly didn’t go to the sleepover. Why would Savvy, queen of the school, invite someone like her?
Now Alice is lying unconcious in a hospital bed.
Lost in a world of dreams and half-formed memories, she is surrounded by voices – the doctor, her worried friends and Luke, whose kisses the night of the fall took her by surprise …
When the accident happened, her world vanished – can Alice ever find her way back from wonderland?
Read the first book in Cathy Cassidy’s irresistible Chocolate Box Girls series!
Cherry Costello’s life is about to change forever. She and Dad are moving to Somerset where a new mum and a bunch of brand-new sisters await. And on Cherry’s first day there she meets Shay Fletcher – the kind of boy who should carry a government health warning. But Shay already has a girlfriend, Cherry’s new stepsister, Honey. Cherry knows her friendship with Shay is dangerous – it could destroy everything. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to stay away from him …
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Broken Heart Club Page 17