The Road Trip(18)

My heart beats faster, the rage bubbling again. Addie broke Dylan’s heart. Like he didn’t fucking eviscerate mine. I fight to hold my tongue, because I shouldn’t rise to it, I mustn’t.

Deb sits up on her elbows. ‘That’s bullshit,’ she says. ‘Better version: Dylan walked out on Addie in December 2017. Biggest mistake of his life, obviously, and he knows it.’

Dylan looks down at the grass.

‘Then Dylan drove into the back of our car and destroyed his. We said we’d give them a lift to Cherry’s wedding like the very good people we are. And I liked both Dylan and Addie,’ she adds. ‘For a while.’

Kevin looks between us all. You can see the gears working.

‘And him?’ he asks, pointing to Rodney.

‘Oh, Rodney’s just along for the ride,’ Deb says, lying back down again.

‘Sorry,’ says Rodney.

Marcus rolls his eyes. Dylan is still staring down at the grass. I wish I could see his face properly.

‘Aren’t you going to tell her?’ Marcus demands, nodding to Deb. ‘Dylan, Christ, have some balls. Tell her it wasn’t like that.’

The motorway roars through the silence.

‘Fuck’s sake,’ Marcus says, getting up and brushing down his jeans. ‘Anyone getting flashbacks to 2017, or just me?’

‘Marcus,’ Dylan says quietly. ‘Just leave it, OK?’

‘Leave it? Leave it?’

‘Marcus.’ Sharper this time.

Rodney’s head swivels back and forth between Marcus and Dylan as if he’s watching table tennis. I clench my fists in my lap. I want to leave. My muscles are tensed, ready.

‘What about Etienne, Dylan?’

My nails cut into my palm. My heart rate soars. I really didn’t think Marcus would say it.

‘Don’t talk about what you don’t understand,’ Deb snaps.

Kevin looks between us all, forehead creased. ‘Bloody hell. It’s like an episode of Jeremy Kyle out here.’

‘What’s not to understand?’ Marcus asks. He sounds genuinely exasperated, and I can’t look at him. I can’t sit here any longer. My body aches with tension.

I get up so abruptly I spill Rodney’s little plastic cup of orange juice. He yelps and rights it, but the juice is already spreading across the blanket.

I walk away. Up the bank, towards the steps Kevin came down when he found us. My heart’s pounding. I hear Deb call for me. I don’t look back. It takes me a while to realise someone’s following me, and another few seconds to clock that it’s Dylan.

‘Go back to the others,’ I say, glancing over my shoulder at him.

‘No,’ he says.

‘Dylan, just go.’

He says nothing this time, but I can still hear him above the rush of traffic. I walk faster and reach the road that crosses the motorway bridge. There’s a path here, narrow enough for one person to walk along. To either side are fields separated from the road by grassy banks dotted with white flowers. If it wasn’t for the roar of the cars beneath me, I’d feel like I’d stepped into the countryside.

‘Addie, come on, slow down.’ He jogs to catch me up. ‘Are you OK?’

I stop and spin on my heels so fast he stumbles and almost collides with me.

‘Am I OK? Marcus is so . . .’ I look away. It’s hard, standing this close to Dylan and meeting his gaze. ‘He’s such a dick.’

‘I know. I’ll talk to him.’

‘No, don’t. Just . . . give me a minute.’

‘I know it’s hard to do, but the best thing is just to ignore him.’

‘Oh, and that’s what you’re doing, is it?’

This is so familiar. It’s like slipping into an old pair of shoes. I’m angry because I’m ashamed, I know that, but I still say the words that’ll hurt him.

‘Because to me it looks like you’re still his trusty sidekick. Following him around like a puppy.’

Dylan opens his mouth to snap back at me and then closes it again. He looks at the ground. My heart hurts. I remember this sense of self-loathing so well. Is this still who I am? Just because it’s familiar, does that mean it’s me?

Maybe those old shoes don’t fit me any more. The anger’s gone as quickly as it came.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Sorry. I didn’t . . . I’m just upset.’

He looks up. ‘It’s not like that with Marcus,’ he says. ‘Not any more. He’s changing.’

Ugh. No. I tear my gaze aside, turning to keep walking away from the motorway.

‘He hasn’t changed a bit. You can’t change a man like Marcus.’

‘I understand why you’d think that.’ Dylan’s voice is calm and level. ‘But I do believe he’s getting somewhere. He’s different.’

Dylan’s walking beside me now, on the roadside. His arm brushes mine, snagging a little against the sticky sun cream on my skin. For a moment I can smell him again. The scent makes me dizzy, as if the world’s going warped, like when someone gets pulled back in time on the telly.

‘Doesn’t seem to be different when it comes to me.’

‘You know he doesn’t know the whole story,’ Dylan says quietly.