‘How’s the honeymoon going?’ Zoe asks at lunchtime.
‘Great.’
‘You look knackered.’
I shrug and she looks away as if she’s a bit embarrassed. I’m about to say, ‘It’s only a hangover!’ but I think better of it. Instead I say, ‘Thanks for covering for me with my mum. Was she OK about it?’
She nods. ‘I told her you were staying with me for a few days. She believed me.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I don’t like lying to your mum.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I won’t ask you again.’
‘Good. When are you going home?’
‘Tomorrow.’
She finishes her sandwich and gets up from the table. I look up in surprise. ‘Where you off to?’
‘Library. Got some work to do.’
‘OK. Thanks again, Zo.’
She hesitates, like she wants to say something else. I smile up at her, waiting.
‘When’s your dad back, by the way?’ she says, finally.
‘Tomorrow.’
‘Thought so,’ she says. ‘Nice top.’ Then she walks away.
I watch her go, the smile wiped clean from my face.
She knows.
I’m all over the place that afternoon. I need to speak to Zoe. I don’t know what I’m going to say but I need to speak to her.
I want her to think it’s OK to use Dad and Jude’s flat while they’re away, that they’ve given us permission to do so.
But I know she won’t believe me.
I want to convince her, like Jem’s convinced me, that it’s no big deal.
But it is.
I want her to know I’m not a bad person.
We’re in different lessons so at the end of the day I make sure I slip out of Art early and am waiting outside Psychology for her when the bell goes. But a crowd of them spill out together, laughing and talking, and she doesn’t notice me standing there to the left, as she turns right and walks away down the corridor, chatting. I follow her as she leaves the building and makes her way across the car park, smiling, waving goodbye to people, all the time talking nineteen to the dozen to some girl from Psychology. I don’t know her name. The two of them stroll off together down the road and not once does she turn around to see where her BFF is. Not once.
I make my way in the opposite direction, to Dad’s apartment. It’s two bus journeys from college and by the time I get there I feel drained. I can’t wait to see Jem.
But when I let myself into the flat it’s dark and empty. The blinds are still drawn from the night before and there’s no sign of Jem. No note. Nothing.
He must be still at work. I open the blinds. The flat looks worse in the half-light. Dirty plates, mugs, glasses and dishes from breakfast and last night litter the place. How can two people make that much mess? I heave a big sigh and pick up a bowl of half-eaten olives from the floor. Last night they were seductive. Today they are repellent.
I chuck them in the bin and walk into the bedroom. The bed is unmade and in the en-suite bathroom there are damp towels on the floor and tiny dark hairs in the sink. Jem has used my dad’s razor, the expensive one Mum bought him for Christmas the year before last – he’s left it on the side of the bath. Anger rises in my throat. He could’ve cleared up after himself, the lazy git, he could’ve cleared up the whole flat instead of leaving it for me to do. Where is he, anyway? I ring his number but his phone is turned off.
In the kitchen I switch the kettle on and start to pile things into the dishwasher. But when the kettle boils I give up and make a cup of tea, slumping down on to the sofa with it. I’ve got A levels coming up, I remind myself crossly. I’ve got work to do. Jem can do this lot when he comes home.
But Jem doesn’t come home. I try to write up my History of Art homework but I find it hard to concentrate. I try his phone again but he’s not answering. At eight o’clock I raid the fridge and make myself a bacon sandwich, but it sticks in my throat and I can’t swallow. Where could he be?
I fight down the panic that is threatening to engulf me. I need to contact someone to find him, that’s what I need to do. But when I pick up my phone I don’t know who to ring. Not for the first time I realize how little I actually know about him. Something must have happened, but I have no way of finding out what.
Mum. She’ll know what to do. But she thinks I’m with Zoe. And I can’t ring Zoe and tell her I’ve lost Jem. Stop panicking, I tell myself, he’s probably still at the hotel; maybe he was told to work on. Ring the hotel! That’s the thing!
By the time I’ve phoned directory enquiries, got the number and managed to get through, it’s gone ten o’clock. The bored receptionist finally informs me after keeping me on hold for ages that Jem Smith left work shortly after three p.m.
I sink back on to the sofa. I knew it! He must have had an accident. Should I ring the hospital? Should I report him missing? My hand reaches for my phone again.
Hold on. Call 999 and you’ll have the police around here. Take a deep breath and calm down. Now, think! What’s he likely to be doing at this time of night? .
Tagging.
He could be with a girl, says a small voice.
Maybe he’s left you.
Maybe he doesn’t love you any more.
I try his number once more but it goes to answer phone.
So I ring the next number on my contacts.
I ring Livi.
CHAPTER THIRTY
She answers straight away. I knew she would; her phone is a permanent extension of her right hand, like an extra digit.
‘Hi, Anna!’ she says breezily. ‘How’s the revision going?’
‘Fine.’ I take a deep breath, not sure of what I’m going to say, trying to keep the worry from my voice. ‘Look, daft question, I know, but I don’t suppose you’ve seen anything of Jem today, have you?’
‘Duh! He’s sitting here right next to me. D’you want him?’
I am stunned. I forget to answer. Then I hear Jem’s voice on the line. ‘Anna? You OK?’
‘What are you doing there?’ I ask in surprise.
‘Came over after work, since you’re at Zoe’s,’ he says, stressing her name warningly.
‘I’ve been worried! Why didn’t you let me know where you were?’
‘Sorry. Your mum asked me to stay for dinner. I didn’t realize the time.’
‘Why didn’t you answer your phone?’
‘It didn’t ring.’ I can hear him fumbling about then he says, ‘Oops! Forgot to switch it back on after work. Sorry!’
‘It’s all right, Anna!’ shrieks Livi’s voice in my ear. ‘We’ve been looking after him!’
‘Get off!’ I can hear Jem laughing and Livi giggling, like he’s trying to wrestle the phone from her. ‘It’s my phone!’ she yells and there’s more shrieks and laughter like they’re fighting over it. She must have won because she comes back on.
‘You can have him back!’ she pants, out of breath. ‘He eats too much anyway. Roast last night, curry tonight. He’s eating us out of house and home!’
He must’ve snatched the phone off her again because there are more squeals, then I hear him say, ‘I’m leaving this madhouse! I’ll ring you!’ and the phone goes dead.
I stare at it, bewildered.
Roast last night, curry tonight? There’s me thinking we’re having a secret few days together and Jem’s been stuffing his face with my mother and sister for the past two nights. What the hell is going on?
I don’t have long to find out. He rings me a few minutes later, on his way home, all apologetic, but I refuse to listen. I stand at the window and watch as the bus draws up and he leaps off and runs across to Wharfside. When the buzzer goes I leave it, feeling a small surge of power as it goes again. But soon he is leaning on it and the continuous noise does my head in and I smack the button to let him in. He looks at me sheepishly as he peels off his jacket.
‘Sorry.’
‘I was worried! I didn’t know where you wer
e!’
‘Sorry.’
‘And all that time you were at my house with my sister and my mother filling your face with curry!’
‘Sorry.’
‘Stop saying that! I nearly called the police!’
He looks alarmed. ‘You didn’t, did you?’
‘Of course not! What was I supposed to say? I’ve broken into this flat and now my boyfriend’s disappeared! They’d think I was some kind of psycho or something!’
‘You’re not …’
‘I know I’m not! But they’d think I was!’ My voice rises alarmingly. ‘And last night. We had a nice romantic meal together and then you left me, so I could get on with my work, you said, and you went round to my house and ate a roast dinner! What’s going on, Jem?’
‘Nothing! Look, sit down, Anna, you’re all upset.’
‘Too right, I’m upset.’ But I allow him to take my hand and lead me to the sofa. And I allow him to keep my hand in his as he explains.
‘I went round last night to give you a chance to get on with your work, yeah?’
I nod.
‘Your mum had made a roast and she offered some to me. I said no, but she insisted!’
I sniff. I know what he means. My mother doesn’t take no for an answer when it comes to food.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because you were fast asleep when I got home, that’s why.’ He refrains from saying I was crashed out, drunk. ‘Then this morning you were gone before I could say anything.’
I consider what he’s saying. It all makes sense. But I’m not quite ready to let him off the hook yet.
‘Still, you didn’t have to do the same thing all over again tonight,’ I say sulkily.
‘Don’t go moody on me, Anna. I didn’t mean to. I only went around after work because I’m bored out of my mind without you.’ He takes my hand and draws me into his arms. ‘Anyway, think about it,’ he says. ‘It’s a great alibi. It shows your mum that, obviously, we’re not together. You’re revising at Zoe’s, I’m at a loose end. She was pleased to see me and so was Livi …’
‘I bet she was!’ I mutter to myself. Livi worships the ground he walks on.
‘Your mum sort of assumed I was staying for dinner again and it would’ve been a bit rude to leave straight after. Anyway, I thought it would give you time to get on with your work with me out of your hair for a bit.’ He looks repentant. ‘I’ve cocked up, haven’t I?’
Jem is irresistible when he’s sad. He’s got that dark, soulful look that lends itself to misery.
‘Come here,’ I say, my anger all spent, and his face lights up. We kiss and make up and then he stretches out on the sofa, his head in my lap.
‘I don’t deserve you,’ he says.
I trace the outline of his lips with my finger, wondering how I can hate him so much one minute and love him so much the next. It’s not his fault – it’s me, I’m all over the place. I mean, what was going on in my head? My boyfriend goes out of his way to allow me to get on with my work, spending two boring evenings with my mother and my kid sister for my sake, and what do I do? Freak out! Make out he’s some kind of lying criminal.
‘It’s me that doesn’t deserve you,’ I confess. ‘I was so mad at you, Jem, when I came home. I was dying to see you and you weren’t here …’
‘I’m here now,’ he says, kissing the tips of my fingers.
‘… And the flat was in a mess, and I was horrible. I wouldn’t clean it up on my own …’
‘We can do it together in the morning.’ He reaches up and pulls me down towards him. ‘We’ve got more important things to be getting on with now.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I wake up, needing the loo, and check the time on the clock. Not yet six a.m. Quietly, I slip from between the sheets, trying not to disturb Jem. Afterwards I get a glass of water and wander over to the bedroom window to drink it. It’s still dark outside and so silent I think I can almost make out the melodic clinking of the boats in the harbour. No one is around yet.
But then as I peer down at the empty Wharfside, my forehead resting against the cool glass, a taxi draws up. I can just see the top of it from where I’m standing. Late-night clubbers, I think. Young professionals from the apartments on their way home.
The door opens, the one furthest away from the kerb, and a girl gets out. I gasp aloud. Even from this angle, I can tell it is Jude. In horror I crane to see if my father appears out of the nearside door. I catch a brief glimpse of the top of his head and jump back in a panic.
‘Jem!’ I scream. ‘Wake up! My dad’s home!’
‘What?’ He sits bolt upright, his face almost comical with sleepy confusion.
‘Dad! And Jude! They’re here!’
His expression clears and he jumps to his feet and peers down into the road. The taxi driver has got out now and he and Dad have moved round to the boot.
‘Shit!’ he says and pulls on his jeans. Frantically, I start to snatch my clothes up from the floor where I had discarded them the night before.
‘Where’s my bra?’ I say desperately. ‘I can’t find my bra!’
‘Here it is!’ Jem thrusts it into my hand. I fasten it with shaking hands and pull my sweater over it. Then I drag on my jeans.
‘My sock, I’ve lost a sock. Put the light on!’
‘No!’ hisses Jem, hopping about madly, trying to stuff his foot into his shoe. ‘They’ll see us. Put your shoes on and grab your stuff, they’ll be here in a minute.’
‘My books!’ I run into the lounge and scoop everything up from the floor where all my college work is strewn, stuffing it into my bag.
‘Quick!’ orders Jem, standing guard by the window. ‘Shoes! He’s paying the driver.’
I force my feet obediently into my boots. ‘My make-up!’ I run over to the dressing table and sweep some into my bag though it’s hard to tell in the dark what’s mine and what’s Jude’s. ‘I’ve left stuff in the bathroom!’ I cry, making a dash for it. Jem grabs me by the hand as I pass him, bringing me to a halt.
‘No!’ he shouts. ‘Leave it! There’s no time!’
‘But my wash-stuff … and my sock … !’ I’m flapping now like a headless chicken, and he yells back, ‘I’ll buy you a bloody sock!’ but that’s not what I mean.
I peer round him to see my father bending down to pick up two heavy cases. Jude has an armful of shopping bags. She rubs the back of her neck as if she’s tired from travelling, then stretches her neck backwards to look up towards the window. Immediately, Jem steps back, treading heavily on my foot.
‘Ow!’
‘Shit! She nearly saw me then! Come on!’
At the front door he shoves my coat into my hands and pushes me out into the corridor. Automatically I run to the lift and am about to press the button when Jem screeches, ‘Stairs, idiot!’ I look up to see that the indicator is glowing. Someone has pressed the button on the ground floor. Cold fear grips me as Jem grabs me by the hand and leads me to the stairs.
Together we race down five flights, our footsteps beating out a frantic, clattering rhythm that echoes back up through the otherwise silent building. I swear, as we reach ground level, I can hear the lift ping as it arrives at its destination on the top floor. Finally, we burst through the front doors into the cold desolation of the early morning. At the top of the road, the retreating lights of the taxi wink at us, then disappear from sight. Hand in hand, we tear off after it, down the empty street.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I never, ever want to go through that again, as long as I live. When we’d got away, once he knew we were safe, Jem was fired up by it all, sparking with excitement. Like he was off his head on something. Like he’d been tagging. For him it was the same thing, he thrives on the thrill of the chase. But me, I was shit-scared, weak with fear and remorse, my conscience going into overdrive, filling me with horror at the thought of what we had done and how nearly we had been caught.
‘No harm done!’ scoffs Jem as he t
ucks into a bacon sarnie at the café we’d found open near the station. ‘We borrowed some real estate lying empty for a few nights, that’s all. Squatters’ rights. Nothing wrong with that.’
For once his beautiful mouth makes me feel sick as I watch his strong teeth tearing into the food in hungry, feral bites. I couldn’t eat a thing.
‘Shush!’ I glance round, scared someone will overhear us, but apart from the owner, who’s glued to the TV, there’s only an old guy, half asleep and stinking of alcohol, and a grossly fat woman in layers of filthy clothing who’s muttering away to herself. ‘We left it in a mess!’ I whisper. ‘We were going to clear up this morning, remember? Now they’ll know someone’s been there.’
‘They’ll know that all right,’ he says and grins, before slurping his mug of tea. This morning, in this sleazy café, with greasy bacon fat on his chin, I don’t know what I ever saw in him. He needs a shave and looks scruffy and unkempt.
I can talk. I need a shower and a complete change of clothes.
‘I want to go home,’ I announce.
‘You can’t,’ he points out. ‘Not till tonight, anyway. You’re staying at Zoe’s, remember?’
I nod, too wasted to talk. I’ll have to go to college first. In yesterday’s clothes.
Too late I remember the top I’m wearing is the one I wore yesterday. It belongs to Jude. So does my underwear.
‘Oh no!’ I groan aloud, covering my face with my hands.
‘What’s up?’
My blood chills as I recall I’d borrowed her knickers the day before too. What was I thinking of? They’d still be there, in the apartment, together with my own discarded pair from the day before that. When I tell Jem, unbelievably he laughs out loud.
‘So what? Worried they’ll have your DNA on them? They’re never going to be able to trace you through a pair of dirty knickers!’
‘Don’t be so gross!’ I look at his mocking face and I want to slap it. Hard. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
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