One of the Girls(26)

‘I didn’t think there was any set plan for the day,’ Fen said, picking up her hiking boots, crossing the room and setting them by the bedroom door.

‘There isn’t. I missed you, that’s all.’ Bella didn’t have any right to complain, but she still felt hurt.

She studied Fen: the nose piercing, the tattoo, those broad shoulders. She was wearing a vest with Good vibes printed in rainbow colours across the chest. She always looked so effortlessly cool. Bella followed the curve of her breasts. ‘No bra,’ she said, thinking how sexy it was seeing her nipples through her top. ‘Wait. You hiked without a bra?’

‘It’s in my bag. I went for a swim.’

‘When?’

‘On the way back. There’s a cove—’

‘With Robyn?’ Bella stiffened.

‘Of course with Robyn.’

‘I didn’t know you were planning on stopping at a beach. Did you have swimming stuff?’

‘What is this?’ Fen said, brow furrowed. ‘We skinny-dipped.’

‘You and Robyn swam naked?’ Bella whisper-shouted.

‘Yes. We did.’

‘Fuck.’

Fen opened her hands. ‘We’ve never had issues with things like that. You sleep in Lexi’s bed or take a sauna at a health spa with a bunch of naked women. I went for a skinny-dip. Am I not allowed to do that?’

Bella knew the hot, fizzing anger in her chest was too big for the situation. ‘I just don’t want my girlfriend to disappear for half a day.’

‘With Robyn.’

‘Yes, with Robyn. I don’t know why you’d want to hang out with her anyway. She’s so … so fucking boring!’ There. She’d said it.

Fen glared at her. She didn’t contradict Bella, tell her she was wrong, tell her she shouldn’t speak about people in that way. It was worse: she looked disappointed.

Bella wanted to say, Please, stop looking at me like that. I can’t bear it. You’re everything that is good, Fen. I can’t lose you. I need you. I know I get like this sometimes – but it’s because I’m scared you’re pulling away. And when I’m scared, I fight. She tried to open her mouth to communicate something of this, but all that sounded was a little humph of indignation.

Fen turned, crossing their room towards the en suite. There was the soft sound of the door closing behind her.

‘At least fucking slam it!’ Bella yelled.

Out of all the words, those were the ones she chose.





We were sharing a villa, sharing bedrooms, sharing beds: talking was our currency. But it was when the whispering began that things shifted.

We caught the hushed tones of arguments meant to be played out in private. We heard the raised voices behind closed doors and pretended that we hadn’t. And later, we’d hear other things: a soft cry rippling from an open window, a strike of blame lighting up the terrace, a secret excavated on a clifftop after midnight.

Those whisperings felt like the fourth wall of the holiday being removed. We could no longer suspend our disbelief that all was sun-kissed and easy and light.

We could no longer believe that we were all friends.





19

Lexi

Lexi crossed the bedroom and pulled the balcony doors closed. Bella and her big mouth!

Robyn was pacing the room, cheeks flushed, mouth in a tight scowl. ‘She’s so fucking boring!’ she repeated.

‘Bella didn’t really mean that,’ Lexi said gently.

Robyn raised an eyebrow.

Lexi reached out, catching Robyn’s hand as she passed. She looked directly at her, waiting until she met her eye. ‘We both know that whenever Bella feels threatened, she lashes out.’

‘Threatened? Because I went for a hike with Fen?’

‘You know what she’s like. She needs the attention circling her.’ It was one of the things she had learned to accept about Bella over the years.

‘She’s right, though. I am boring.’

‘Course you’re not!’

‘It’s true.’ Robyn let go of Lexi’s hands and sank down onto the bed, shoulders rounding. ‘The social highlight of my week is taking Jack to Wriggle and Rhyme.’

Lexi laughed.

‘I wish it were a joke. I don’t even have a sense of humour anymore, so it can’t be. I lost that with my social life. All I do now is go to work. Look after Jack. Eat dinner with my parents. Watch Netflix. Then go to bed. That’s it. That’s my life. I’m bored by it.’

Lexi sat beside Robyn, the mattress dipping. ‘How long have you felt like this?’

‘For months. Oh God,’ she said, covering her face with her hands. ‘Maybe even years. Since I had Jack, sometimes I feel like, like I’ve lost a part of myself. I know that sounds selfish, because I love him so much and I want him to be the centre of my world … but … what if I’m pouring so much into him that there’s nothing left for me?’ Robyn looked up and her expression was raw, vulnerable. ‘Living back at Mum and Dad’s – it’s been such a help after Bill, but I don’t think it’s good for me. I’m still sleeping in my childhood bed, for God’s sake!’

Lexi had always liked Robyn’s parents. They were kind and caring and dependable – a welcome contrast to her family – but there was also (and Lexi felt disloyal for even thinking this) a sadness that clung to them. Their son, Drew, had died in a drink-driving accident over a decade ago and, God, Lexi knew grief wasn’t stamped with an end date, but over the years, she’d also wondered if their sadness had been accepted as the norm, like they were no longer even aiming for anything else. Robyn was their glimmer of light. Her decisions to go to a local university and then take a job in a local firm were made because she knew that, too.