A Quiet Kind of Thunder(80)

for me and Rhys. I was going to tell you.



I end up sending her five messages in my panic, too full of adrenalin to stop and think about whether or not this is a good idea. Trying to explain myself is suddenly all that’s important in the entire world.

It’s in the silence after my frantic typing that I realize what I’ve just done, which is to pour out my guilt with no context or accompanying apology-face. I’ve made a giant, colossal mistake. I should have apologized briefly but sincerely, then waited until tomorrow morning to go and speak to her in person. Sending her a stream of consciousness ramble is the worst thing I could have done.

I can’t take the messages back. They sit there, taunting me, just waiting for Tem’s eyes to take them in and narrow in fury.

It’s midnight. I’m lying alone in the dark of my bedroom. And I have ruined everything.





I’m prepared for the fallout to last all week.

I try to avoid it for as long as I can, burying myself into my pillow and hoping everyone will think I’m sleeping. But eventually Lucy knocks on my door and pokes her head round.

‘Good morning, sunshine,’ she says. There’s a smile in her voice, which surprises me. ‘Stop hiding.’

I poke my head out from under the covers. ‘Not hiding.’

‘It looks quite a bit like hiding to me,’ Lucy says. ‘I’ll make you some breakfast if you get up now. Your dad’s at work, and your mother is coming over this evening so we can all have a chat about what happened.’

Oh, great. Not only do I get to have the ‘we’re so disappointed’ speech from three of my parents, I also get an entire day of anticipation.

‘Hmph,’ I mutter.

‘Your dad gave Rhys’s parents a ring before he left this morning,’ Lucy adds. I sit up immediately and brush my hair out of my eyes. ‘He stayed in Edinburgh last night with his brother, and he’s getting the train back this morning. In fact –’ she glances at her watch – ‘he’s most likely well on the way. So if you wanted to go and see him, go this afternoon. Give his parents a little time to grill him first, though.’ She smiles at me. ‘Now. Breakfast?’

I stare at her, a little thrown. To be honest, this isn’t what I was expecting. Why is she being so friendly? Is she trying to lull me into a false sense of security? Is she getting me to Rhys’s house so they can all ambush us together?

But as worried as I am about that, it’s nothing compared to how I feel about seeing Rhys again. I haven’t heard a word from him since I last saw him in the hospital – no jackbytes, not even a text. I keep thinking about his grumpy face, how he barely touched me when we said goodbye. What if what happened has ruined things between us? Has he realized that I’m too much of a liability to have around? Panicking in times of turmoil instead of taking control, losing my voice when I’m the one who should speak for us both. Does he think he’d be better off with someone who speaks his language properly? Or, at the very least, someone who can speak for herself?

I want desperately to see my boyfriend. I ache with needing to see him. But what if he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend any more? What do I do then?

And then there’s Tem. Tem, who hasn’t replied to any of my messages even though I can tell by the blue WhatsApp ticks that she’s seen them. Tem, who feels so deeply. Tem, who depends on me.

Could I just stay here in bed all day and pretend that none of this is happening? I burrow down into my pillow and seriously consider it. I’m just wondering if I could get food delivered directly to my bedroom if I ordered online and asked very nicely, when something warm, heavy and furry lands directly on me. A nose snuffles into my ear.

I groan. ‘Get off, Rita.’

Rita flops down beside me, head on my pillow, one plaintive eye trained on me.

‘OK, OK.’ I throw back my covers and she leaps up happily, jumping on to the floor and spinning in a circle.

Maybe I could pretend to myself. I could even pretend to my family. But Rita would never be fooled.

I go to the Gold house sometime after lunch, taking Rita for moral support. She’s thrilled by the unusually long walk, happy, as ever, just to be with me. This might sound stupid, but that helps. When I walk down the street, I wrap the lead round my hand, concentrating on the sensation of tightness on my fingers, anchoring myself in the moment to stop myself spiralling.

This is Rhys. It’s stupid to be so nervous. But . . . it’s Rhys.

‘Oh.’ It’s his mother who opens the door. ‘Hello, Stefanie.’

God, I didn’t even think about being scared of seeing his mother. She’s looking at me like I just trampled her chrysanthemums. I have a sudden flash of how she used to check on us in Rhys’s room, how we always had to keep the door open. Ah. She knows why we were in Edinburgh.

‘Hi,’ I squeak. ‘Um. Can I see Rhys?’

I half expect her to make some comment about me having seen quite enough of him over the weekend, but she doesn’t. She nods, tells me to wait in the garden with Rita, then disappears back into the house.

It takes a few minutes for Rhys to come and join me in the garden. He’s not using a crutch, which I take to be a good sign. I stand to greet him, my heart already pounding.

I swallow. Hi.

His eyes meet mine. Hi.