The Road Trip(62)

‘Eleven,’ he says. ‘Oh! Does Deb have very big feet?’

‘No,’ I say, as patiently as I can manage. ‘No, Rodney, she doesn’t.’

‘Great! It’s someone else who must’ve drowned, then,’ Rodney says, sounding cheered. ‘I’ll get out the river, in that case.’

‘You’re . . . in the river? Actually in it?’

Marcus perks up at this and sidles nearer.

‘I’m trawling! For bodies!’

‘You’re . . .’

‘No need now though, if it isn’t Deb.’

Rodney’s absolute conviction that there is a dead body in the river is really throwing me.

‘OK. Thanks, Rodney. Keep at it.’

I pull a face at Marcus as I hang up. He laughs.

‘That man is truly pathetic,’ he says. ‘A wet flannel in human form.’

‘Leave him be,’ I tell him. ‘He doesn’t mean any harm. Would you stop kicking that? You’ll scratch their paintwork.’

‘You’re your father’s son,’ Marcus says, quirking his eyebrow and giving the can another kick. He sees my expression and relents, dribbling the can away again across the car park. It’s so hot we’re both sweating through our T-shirts, and I glance enviously towards the cool, air-conditioned lobby of the Budget Travel Hotel.

‘Come on, let’s sit in there,’ Marcus says, already heading inside. ‘Maggie at reception will be delighted for some company. Maggie, my darling Maggie,’ he coos as we step through the doors. ‘We’re melting.’

‘Oh! You poor loves. Won’t you come in? Sit in the lobby. Can I get you boys a drink?’

Maggie the receptionist has already fluttered off in a cloud of cheap perfume and the clatter of beaded necklaces. Marcus and I sit down on the plastic seats in the carpeted lobby of the hotel, and we stretch our legs out in unison with a groan; given all we’ve done all day is sit down in a car, I feel astonishingly exhausted.

‘How do you do it?’ Marcus asks, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘With Addie?’

‘Do what?’

‘You don’t even seem angry. After what she did to you. I just can’t understand it.’

I press my lips together and watch Maggie flit back and forth in the doorway behind the front desk, carrying various bits and pieces – glasses, ice-cube trays, and, at one point, a bottle of hairspray.

‘It’s complicated,’ I say. ‘Just leave it, Marcus.’

‘She cheated on you.’

I wince. ‘She . . .’

‘You know she did. I showed you the fucking photograph, Dylan.’

‘I know you did,’ I snap, before I can stop myself. ‘And have we talked about why you were there? Why you cared so much what she was up to?’

He goes still. After a long moment his hands shift, and he begins to tug at the thin loop of black leather he wears around his wrist, but he doesn’t lift his gaze towards me.

‘I’ve always had your back,’ he says eventually. His voice is quiet.

‘Yes, well. I think that rather went beyond the call of duty, didn’t it?’

Maggie descends with water glasses.

‘Oh, Maggie, you’re an angel. An angel,’ Marcus says, and it’s like the conversation we’ve just had never happened. I once wrote about that, the way that Marcus’s mood would shift lightning-like. A cloud ripped, gone/and the sun’s back/exposed, raw as joy/until the wind blows.

‘Thank you,’ I say, taking the glass of water from Maggie.

She hovers in front of us, all flushed cheeks and sensible shoes, blossoming under Marcus’s gaze. I’m saved from any more flirtation by my phone ringing. I pull it out of the pocket of my shorts: Addie calling.

‘Hey,’ she says. ‘Don’t freak out. But I’m in A&E.’





THEN





Addie

It’s February 14th – a school day, annoyingly, but Dylan and I have Valentine’s Day plans for the evening. All he’ll say is wear warm socks, which has got me totally intrigued. Deb reckons we’re going on a hike. I hope she’s wrong – I’ve been on my feet all day, and am hoping for the sitting-down sort of romantic.

I get a text from Dylan just as I’m leaving the car park.



Don’t panic, Ads, but I’m in A&E. Getting ready for our date (stringing fairy lights for a picnic at Dell Quay! It was going to be beautiful) and fell off a ladder. Just getting a little head scan to make sure I’ve not got something worse than mild concussion (I’m sure I haven’t!) xxx



I stare at the text. Completely frozen.

‘See you tomorrow, Addie!’ Moira calls as she makes her way to her car, and it takes me way too long to answer her. Stood there in the rain next to my car, I imagine what it would be like to lose Dylan. It is awful. Awful. It would be unsurvivable.

I turn up at the A&E as fast as is legally possible. A bit faster on the stretches of the motorway where I know there aren’t any speed cameras.

Marcus and I get to the doors of the emergency department at the same moment. At first I don’t realise it’s him. I’ve not seen him since France – a weirdly long time not to see your boyfriend’s best mate, but Dylan’s always had an excuse ready for him, and frankly I’ve not minded that he’s clearly avoiding me.