Friend Request(42)

I sat at the table for a few minutes, not sure whether my legs would carry me if I stood up. Eventually I stepped towards the door, decision made, wondering only whether to tell Sophie I was leaving. However, just as I’d decided to try and sneak away without anyone noticing, the door opened again. I steeled myself for another conversation with Tim, but my stomach gave a foolish flip when I realised that it was Sam. His dirty blond hair was flopping into his eyes, the blue of which was almost entirely obscured by his dilated pupils.

‘Lovely Louise! There you are!’ he cried, causing a blush to spread up my neck, even though I knew that the affection he felt for me was purely chemical. He pulled me close and I hugged him back, feeling the heat of his body against my chest, my hands pressed into his back. I kept my eyes closed and inhaled, breathing in a mix of his worn leather jacket, a sweet and sharp citrusy smell and something else indefinable. An unfamiliar feeling rose in me, a desperate wanting that I could hardly name.

‘Sit down with me?’ Sam asked.

We sat down opposite each other and he smiled, reaching out for my hand. My heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to fly up out of my throat.

‘Sorry about all this,’ he said, looking around the kitchen.

‘What do you mean?’ I looked around at the rusty sink, the ancient yellow kitchen units, one door hanging off and a drawer completely missing, the chipped and stained worktop.

‘You know what I mean. It’s a shithole.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said, squeezing his hand daringly. ‘Who cares? At least you’ve got the place to yourself for the night. My parents never go anywhere. And even if they did, they’d kill me if I had a party.’

‘My dad doesn’t give a shit,’ he said, his face darkening. ‘I’m glad you’re here though.’ His smile reached down inside me, warming me from within.

I was about to reply when the door swung open once more, this time to admit Sophie. She smiled, looking pointedly at our linked hands on the table. Sam pulled his hand away and stood up, with a final smile at me.

‘I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?’ he said. As he passed her, Sophie held her arms out.

‘Where’s my hug then, Sammy?’

Sam enveloped her in his arms, and she slid hers around his waist, watching me over his shoulder. When he headed back towards the living room, Sophie bounced down opposite me at the table.

‘You two looked cosy,’ she said with a wicked smile. ‘So, what d’you think? Want to try it?’

I took a deep breath.

‘Have you got anything I can take? Tonight, I mean?’

She smiled then, and I knew I’d passed the test. I also knew that whatever I’d had with Maria, it was well and truly over now. There would be no more chances.

Much later, I lay next to Sophie under a heavy goose-down duvet in her soft double bed as dawn broke. I felt as though I had passed through some invisible barrier into another world. I’d always felt at a slight remove from the group. My relationship with the others in it had always been filtered through Sophie, but taking the E had made me feel for the first time that I was really one of them. Images flashed through my mind from the night before: dancing, hugging, laughing; Sam’s arms around me, lifting me up and spinning me around, everything a whirl of colour and light. Weak sunlight filtered through her Laura Ashley curtains and the birds began to squawk and chatter outside. I hadn’t slept, running Sophie’s idea over and over in my head. I had been a bit unsure at first but Sophie promised there wouldn’t be any lasting effects – in fact Maria’d probably love it, might loosen her up a bit. Sam and Matt were up for it too; they thought it was a hilarious idea. We’d decided not to tell anyone else, not even Claire and Joanne. It was going to be our secret, just the four of us. I knew this would cement my place in the group – I was the only one that could do it. I just needed to hold my nerve.

Chapter 18

2016
I’ve had the lights on in here all morning but they haven’t banished the October gloom, rain lashing from a gunmetal sky against the French windows. All week I’ve been putting off making a decision about the reunion, and even now the day has arrived, I still haven’t clicked on Facebook to say I am attending. Polly is on standby for babysitting. I didn’t want to tell her I was going, but I don’t have anyone else who will have Henry overnight. She wanted to see the Facebook page so I haven’t been able to hide it from her that Sam’s going to be there. She was not impressed. I know she’s only trying to protect me but she doesn’t understand why I feel the need to go. She can’t, because of the huge gaps in my story, the bits I haven’t told her. She doesn’t know how Sharne Bay pulls me, like a scar that itches, drawing your fingers to it, even though you know you should leave it alone to heal.

I’m completely happy for Henry to go to Polly’s, but I do feel a pang when I see grandparents picking up Henry’s classmates from the school gate. I can tell from the easy familiarity with which their grandchildren greet them that they are a proper part of their lives. For Henry, seeing my parents is an Occasion: he chooses his clothes with deliberate care, talks about it for days before, works himself into a state of anxiety, and is always ultimately disappointed when they fail to live up to his ideal. They’ve never shown an interest in looking after him, even when he was tiny and I was on my knees with exhaustion. They were sympathetic, but it simply didn’t seem to occur to them that what I needed was for someone to take him away for a couple of hours. Maybe if we’d been closer before he was born I would have been able to ask for the help I so desperately needed, but the distance between us was too great to bridge by then. Twenty-three years of polite conversation had taken their toll and the time for honesty was long gone.