Just My Luck(105)

Megan obviously hears her mother and she flings open the door. I try to pretend I’ve just walked up the stairs and not admit that I’ve been hanging about, gathering courage to go into her room. She stares at me but doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t seem like she’s going to answer her mum, so I yell down the stairs, ‘OK.’

‘Keep an eye on your brothers, Megan. Text your mum and tell her you are staying for a bit, Emily.’

I guess Dad knows Mum will be less than chuffed with this news, which is why he’s letting me deliver it. Cheers, Dad. I decide I’ll text in a bit, put it off for a while. Megan and I stay on the landing until we hear our parents leave the house, the door bang behind them and the roar of my dad’s Ferrari down the street.

‘She’s been dying to get in that car,’ comments Megan, rolling her eyes. ‘I promise you there is food in the house – she’s just looking for an excuse for your dad to take her somewhere in the Ferrari. She is so shallow.’

‘Total puddle,’ I add. Megan grins and then grabs me, folding me into a tight hug.

‘It is a fucking cool car though, hey?’ she asks.

‘Totally,’ I murmur into her neck. I inhale her and I’m not mistaken. Of course I’m not. Her smell is as familiar to me as my own.





49


Lexi


Logan and I play FIFA. He is Manchester City and I am Real Madrid. He wins all three games. I get a text from Emily saying she is staying at Megan’s for supper. I’m conflicted. Emily needs all the friends she can have around her right now, but how can Megan be a friend when her father is responsible for the kidnapping? It’s a lot to process. I decide to let it go. Emily needs her space. Logan and I order a pizza delivery. He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. I grin at my son; glad I can make him so happy so easily. I don’t hear from Jake. I guess he could be eating with them, or maybe he’s gone to the gym. Or maybe somewhere else. Jennifer’s.

The thought keeps creeping up on me. I wish it didn’t, but I can’t quite shake the fact that for years I thought I knew where he was, what he was doing. But I didn’t. Logan gets bored of beating me so easily and says he’s going to play with his friends online now. I’ve enjoyed our mother–son time but honestly, I hate video games, and am relieved. I go downstairs into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine.

I am not planning on snooping. I’m planning on picking up a book and losing myself in someone else’s world, but I find myself in the room that Jake designated as his office. I flick on his PC. A subconscious part of my brain has taken over and my body is just following instructions. Whilst the PC is warming up, humming into life, I open his desk draws. I idly flick through his paperwork. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for – emails or cards from her, phone records that prove they are still talking to one another. I wonder if he’s changed his password. It used to be our wedding anniversary.





50


Emily


Megan keeps her room really tidy. She always has. Ridley and I used to tease her and say she had OCD, but my mum said we weren’t allowed to do that because mental disorders weren’t a laughing matter and just because a teenager keeps her room tidy, it doesn’t mean she has a syndrome. My mum can be really worthy. Megan sits on the stool in front of the dressing table and I sit on her neat bed that could have been made by a soldier and I wish there was some clutter lying about, something for me to pick up and play with, something to distract us both.

‘Do you want to listen to some music?’ she asks. I nod. She puts on Billie Eilish’s latest release. I downloaded this recently too. It cheers me that we have continued to listen to the same music, even when our lives were spiralling in different directions. It means something about us, our friendship. ‘How’ve you been?’ she asks eventually.

I shrug. Where to start? Rich? Euphoric? Lonely? Terrified? I go with, ‘Pregnant.’

‘For real?’ Her eyes are saucers. I almost want to giggle. It’s always felt pretty fun shocking Megan because, out of the two of us, she’s probably the most daring.

It’s no fun though when I have to add, ‘I was. I lost it, during the abduction.’ She nods and looks out the window.

‘Are you sad?’ she asks.

‘What would I have done with a baby?’

She shrugs, ‘I dunno, cuddle it?’ It’s so true. That’s what I could have done. I flop back on the bed and let the hot silent tears fall onto her duvet. She gets up from the dressing-table stool and comes to lie next to me.

‘Does Ridley know?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He didn’t want it. I guess he’s happy now. I think he’s with Evie Clarke.’

‘That won’t last,’ she says loyally.

‘I don’t care.’

‘Yeah, you do.’

‘Yeah, I do.’

She holds my hand and says nothing more. We stay like that for ages. The light in her room starts to change, it becomes orange, then pink. The sun is setting. I feel peaceful. Placed.

‘I’m sorry about that thing we did to you. In the loos, you know.’ Megan is mumbling. Embarrassed. She hates apologising.

‘It’s OK.’ It seems a long time ago; so much more and so much worse has happened since. ‘Why were you so angry though? You know I would have shared everything with you.’