I Was Born for This(79)

Lister’s tapping his hand rapidly against the side of his leg. He catches my eye, and then turns and follows Rowan and Grandad into the living room.

I look at Angel.

‘Sorry,’ I say to her, hoping that sums it up.

She huffs out a small laugh and then sits down in a chair.

‘Not your fault,’ she says, and it sounds like she’s blaming herself.





So. Rowan hates his own fans. Genuinely did not see that one coming.

It’s definitely my fault that all of this is happening. I should have said no when Jimmy asked me to come with him. Then maybe he wouldn’t have gone, he wouldn’t be trying to leave The Ark, and Rowan and Jimmy wouldn’t be literally destroying their relationship in front of my eyes.

Rowan shouting at me wasn’t too bad. But watching Rowan and Jimmy argue was like watching the world tear itself into two. What can I do? God. I can’t do anything. What if they stop speaking because of me? What if they fall out of love because of me? What if they hate each other because of me?

Oh God.

What have I done?

Everything is my fault.

Why am I here?

What is my life?

I stand up from the kitchen table, shoving the chair back. Everyone else is in the living room. No one sees me run to the study, shove all my not-quite-dry clothes into my suitcase and put a jumper on. No one sees me hoist my rucksack onto my back and pull my suitcase down the hallway. No one sees me open the door and walk right out without saying a thing.

It is still raining. So heavily, now, that you can’t actually see very far ahead. It feels like a nightmare.

Maybe this is all a nightmare. Or is it a dream? I can’t tell the difference any more.

I pull my suitcase down Piero Ricci’s driveway and onto the empty road. It lands with a splash that completely soaks my socks, and when I look down I realise that the road is pretty much one giant puddle. Maybe the taxi driver was right about the flooding. Across the road are a few more cottages, but beyond that are just blurry fields. The world seems deserted, dissolving in the rain.

I stop walking.

What am I doing?

Where am I going?

Who am I without The Ark?

I fish my phone out of my pocket and call home. Someone picks up after two rings.

‘Hello?’

I wipe rain out of my eyes. It’s Mum.

Didn’t realise how much I missed her voice.

‘Hi, Mum, it’s me.’

Is she still angry? Is she going to shout at me? I thought Dad would pick up the phone.

‘Fereshteh.’ She waits for me to speak, but I don’t. ‘Your dad said you aren’t coming home until tomorrow after all.’

My knees feel weak suddenly, like I really need to sit down.

‘I don’t know what I’m doing, Mum,’ I say.

‘Fereshteh, what is it? Tell me. Tell your maman. I’m here, my girl. I’m here.’

‘Are you still angry with me?’

‘I was never angry, my darling. Only scared.’

‘Why … were you scared?’

There’s a pause.

‘Because I felt that I suddenly didn’t know you,’ she says. Her voice is so quiet, or maybe the line is dodgy due to the rain. ‘Hearing you so angry, so determined to see this band … and not caring about your own achievements. I wondered whether you were growing up to be a girl who valued nothing about herself. Only a boy band.’

I realise then that I’m crying.

I’m just standing in the rain, sobbing.

‘I met The Ark,’ I say to her, choking on my own breath.

‘The band? Your band?’

‘Y-yeah …’

‘Was it … not good?’

The whoosh of the rain makes it hard to hear her.

‘It wasn’t … w-what I expected … I thought … it would make me happy to see them and meet them … but I just realised … that … there’s nothing happy or good in the world … nothing that is truly good or truly happy …’

I can’t speak any more after that because I’m just sobbing. I’m not even making any sense. I crouch down on the pavement.

‘I-I can’t– I don’t know wh-who I am without them.’ My free hand curls into a fist and I bring it up to my face. I want to punch myself. ‘My whole life is … is The Ark … b-but … I can’t believe in it any more … and now I have n-nothing good in the world …’

‘My girl …’ Mum whispers, and God I wish she were here, I wish she could hold me, cuddle me like she used to do when I tripped over as a toddler and scraped my knee.

‘Do you think it’s stupid?’ I say, my voice hoarse. ‘Do you think I’m a stupid teenage girl?’

She does. She must do.

‘No, Fereshteh,’ says Mum. ‘No. I think you are the girl with the deepest heart.’

I put my hand over my eyes.

‘I don’t have anything left to believe in,’ I say.

‘Allah is with you,’ she says, ‘and I am with you.’

And I want to explain that while both of those are true, or at least I hope they are, it’s not the same, and they can’t fill the hole that The Ark has left endless and vacant.