Cross Her Heart(22)
It’s the festival tomorrow. She’ll probably save a lot of the money for that. I’m going with Marilyn and Richard – the days of Ava holding my hand are long gone – and I’m looking forward to it. Live music, a funfair, sunshine, hot dogs and candyfloss. Everything I need to dispel my lingering disquiet.
‘Brownie?’
I look up, slightly startled. Julia is holding out a Tupperware box of roughly cut chocolate squares. ‘You made them?’ I sound incredulous, my words coming too quickly to hide how at odds I find the idea with what I think I know of her.
‘I find it relaxing,’ she says.
I have no choice but to take one. ‘Thanks. I’ll get a coffee and have it in a minute.’ It feels moist and heavy, exactly as it should. She bakes well. Of course she does. She holds the box out to Marilyn and I look at her delicate nails and try to imagine her in a kitchen covered in flour.
She brought flowers in the other morning to ‘brighten the reception area up’. They were lilies; beautiful and expensive and stinking of grief. Penny loves her which makes me feel worse about what I saw. I can’t prove anything so I’ve tried to forget it. But Julia’s a strange one. Even with these friendly gestures that scream out for approval, there’s a coldness to her, as if she’s ice at her core.
‘I’d be huge if I ate everything I baked myself.’ Her face tightens and there’s the hint of a line around her mouth I haven’t noticed before. Detail, detail, that’s me. Her Botox or fillers or whatever she uses to make herself look younger must be wearing off.
‘I’ll get the kettle on,’ Marilyn says. ‘Thanks, Julia.’
‘I’ll help,’ I say. ‘Let’s make one for everyone.’ I need to tell Marilyn about the dinner – the date. I don’t want to keep any secrets from her if I don’t have to. If I can trust anyone in my life, it’s her.
16
AVA
‘Thank God it’s all over!’ Ange says as we slam our cubicle doors. We’ve beaten the rush out of the sports hall at the end of the exam, everyone else still squealing at each other about what was good and what was bad.
Ange’s happy sigh is accompanied by the sound of her urgent piss hitting the toilet bowl. She has no inhibitions. She’ll walk naked around the changing rooms after swimming while the rest of us try to pull our clothes on under damp towels.
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Thank fuck.’ I’m not really listening. I’m staring down at my clean knickers. I was sure, sure, I’d felt the first twinge of my period an hour ago. What is it? A week or so late now? I wish I kept a better track, but who does? Periods just are. They turn up. It’s what they do. For the first time this week I’m not exactly worried about it, but I’d feel better if it came. I force out a half-hearted wee I don’t need and then check again as I wipe, willing the paper to be streaked with blood. It’s not.
Outside, doors bang and more girls turn up and so I flush and escape to the sinks. Ange is already there, plumping up her full lips with shiny gloss and my phone pings a couple of times as I turn it back on. Courtney and Mum. I tell Courtney we’ll be out tonight and then I open the text from Mum.
‘The cash machine is paying up,’ I say as I scan through the message. I feel mean calling Mum that, but Ange came up with the nickname for her back at the start of Year Ten, and it kind of stuck. ‘I told you she would. Plenty for tonight and the festival tomorrow.’
‘Is Courtney around tonight?’ Ange isn’t using her stupid faux American accent, but the question does sound as if she’s bored, which means she’s curious. I wonder if Ange slightly fancies him herself. She’s the one who asks the most.
‘Yeah, I figure we can all meet up, maybe.’ I don’t mind the idea of seeing Courtney. We can celebrate together and I can plead the period I don’t have if he tries anything too heavy. I do miss him a bit, weirdly. Not in that way, but it was fun when we were all hanging around together at the start. Having the boys there breaks up our intensity. Our Fabulous Four-ness. MyBitches.
Plus, Courtney isn’t such an issue now. He’s simply a distraction to fill in the days until I meet him. A little over a week to go. One week. I can’t believe it.
My period better bloody come before then.
17
MARILYN
‘So, how was your day?’ Richard asks, flicking through the channels, no doubt looking for sport or some home repair show to fill the time before bed. I don’t mind what he chooses, to be honest. All I want is to eat my dinner, maybe have a long hot bath, quickly check in on how Lisa’s evening went, and then bed.
‘You know, the same as usual. Still getting the new girls up to speed.’ We’ve slumped on the sofa with plates of frozen lasagne and oven chips with a smattering of peas as an attempt to make it look like a balanced diet. I worked through lunch so me and Lisa could leave early to get her a new dress, and I’m starving. I have a sudden pang of envy at Lisa’s evening. A beautiful restaurant. Charming company. A new dress. New beginnings. It’s only a gentle envy. I can’t be jealous of this. I’m getting joy from her joy. It’s about time she dated, although a little part of me is worried he’ll whisk her away and then what will I do? You don’t make new best friends in your forties. I don’t think I could. Especially not now.