Part 4 (2/2)

The mud sucked at my feet, as if trying to keep me here in the dark, and I gritted my teeth and forced my tired legs to go a bit faster.

I was maybe halfway when there was a sound from below, back on the main road. A car, slowing down.

I didn't have a watch, and I'd left my phone back at the house, but surely it couldn't be six yet? I hadn't been running for an hour, nothing like it.

But there it was, the sound of an engine idling as the car made the turn, and then a gritting, growling roar as it began to plough up the hill, bouncing from pothole to pothole.

I flattened myself against the hedge as it got closer, and stood, s.h.i.+elding my eyes from the glare, and hoping that the car wouldn't splash me with too much mud as it pa.s.sed, but to my surprise it stopped, its exhaust a cloud of white against the moon, and I heard the whir of an electric window and a blast of Beyonce, quickly m.u.f.fled as someone turned the volume down.

I took a step closer, my heart pounding again, as if I'd been running much faster than I had. The head-torch had been angled to point at the ground, for walking rather than talking, and I couldn't work out how to adjust it back up. Instead I pulled the apparatus from my head, holding it in my hand, and shone it into the pale face of the girl in the car.

But I didn't need to.

I knew who it was.

Clare.

'Lee?' she said, as if in disbelief. The light was full in her eyes, and she blinked and s.h.i.+elded them from the torch beam. 'My G.o.d, is it really you? I didn't ... What are you doing here?'

6.

FOR A MINUTE I didn't understand. Had there been some horrible mistake? Was it possible she hadn't invited me at all, and this was all Flo's stupid idea?

'It- I'm- y-your hen,' I stammered. 'Didn't you-?'

'I know that, silly!' She laughed, a nervous gust of white breath in the cold air. 'I meant, what are you doing out here? Are you training for an Arctic expedition or something?'

'Having a run,' I said, trying to make it sound like the most normal thing in the world. 'It's not that c-cold. Just a bit nippy.' But I was cold now, standing still, and I ruined the last words by s.h.i.+vering convulsively.

'Get in, I'll give you a lift up to the house.' She leaned across and opened the pa.s.senger door.

'I'm ... my trainers, they're pretty gross-'

'Don't worry. It's a hire car. Get in already, before we both freeze!'

I squelched round to the pa.s.senger side and got in, feeling the heat of the car strike through my cold, sweat-soaked thermals. The mud had penetrated my trainers. My toes were squis.h.i.+ng inside the lining in a way that made me shudder.

Clare put the car back into gear and hushed 'Single Ladies' with a click of the mute b.u.t.ton. The silence was suddenly deafening.

'So ...' She looked at me sideways in the mirror. She was just as beautiful as ever. I'd been crazy to think ten years could have made a difference to Clare. Her beauty was bone-deep. Even in the dim light of the car, m.u.f.fled up in an old hoodie and a giant snood-like scarf, she looked startling. Her hair was piled on top of her head in an adorably messy knot that spilled down over her shoulders. Her nails were painted scarlet, but chipped not try-hard, no one could accuse Clare of that. Pitch-perfect, more like.

'So,' I echoed back. I had always felt like the poor relation in comparison to Clare. Ten years had changed nothing, I realised.

'Long time no see.' She was shaking her head, her fingertips tapping on the wheel. 'But G.o.d, I mean ... it's good to see you, Lee, you know?'

I said nothing.

I wanted to tell her I was not that person any more I was Nora now, not Lee.

I wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, the reason I hadn't kept in touch was nothing to do with her that it was me. Only ... that wasn't completely true.

Most of all, I wanted to ask her why I was here.

But I didn't. I didn't say anything. I just sat, staring up at the house as we wound closer.

'It's really good to see you,' she said again. 'So, you're a writer now is that right?'

'Yes,' I said. The words seemed strange and false in my mouth, as if I were lying, or telling stories about someone else, a distant relative perhaps. 'Yes, I'm a writer. I write crime fiction.'

'I heard. I saw a piece in the paper. I'm so- I'm really pleased for you. That's amazing, you know? You should be very proud.'

I shrugged. 'It's just a job.' The words came out stiff and bitter I didn't mean them like that. I know I'm lucky. And I worked hard to get here. I should be proud. I am proud.

'What about you?' I managed.

'I'm in PR. I work for the Royal Theatre Company.'

PR. That figured, and I smiled, a genuine smile this time. Clare was always amazing at spinning a story, even at twelve. Even at five.

'I'm ... I'm very happy,' she said softly. 'And listen, I'm sorry we lost touch seeing you ... we had some good times, didn't we?' She glanced at me in the ghostly green light from the dashboard. 'Remember having our first f.a.g together?' She gave a laugh. 'First kiss ... first joint ... first time sneaking into an eighteen film ...'

'First time getting chucked out,' I retorted, and then wished I hadn't sounded so snide. Why? Why was being I so defensive?

But Clare only laughed. 'Ha, what a humiliation! We thought we were being so clever getting Rick to buy the tickets and sneaking through to the loos. I didn't think they'd check at the screen door as well.'

'Rick! I'd forgotten him. What's he up to these days?'

'G.o.d knows! Probably in prison. For underage s.e.x, if there's any justice.'

Rick had been Clare's boyfriend for a year when we were fourteen or fifteen, a greasy long-haired twenty-two-year-old with a motorbike and a gold tooth. I'd never liked him even at fourteen I'd found it bizarre and disgusting that Clare would want to sleep with a bloke that age, despite the fact that he could get into clubs and buy alcohol.

'Ugh, he was such a creep,' I said, before I thought better of it. I bit my tongue, but Clare only laughed.

'Totally! I can't believe I couldn't see it at the time. I thought I was so sophisticated having s.e.x with an older guy! Now it seems like ... like one step away from paedophilia.' She gave a snort and then an exclamation as the car bounced off a pothole. 'Oops! Sorry.'

There was silence for a while as she negotiated the last and most rutted part of the drive, and then we swung onto the gravelled s.p.a.ce at the front of the house, tucking in neatly between Nina's hire car and Flo's Landrover.

Clare turned off the engine and for a minute we just sat in the dark car, contemplating the house, with the players inside ranged like actors on a stage, just as Tom had said. There was Flo, beavering away in the kitchen, bending over the oven. Melanie was hunched over the phone in the living room, Tom sprawled across a sofa directly opposite the plate-gla.s.s window, flicking through a magazine. Nina was nowhere to be seen out having a f.a.g on the balcony, most likely.

Why am I here? I thought again, with a kind of agony this time. Why did I come?

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