Part 11 (2/2)

”And it isn't?” Lee asks.

”It has to be,” I answer.

KAZ.

Owen and Dongle are waiting outside with hot(ish) McDonald's. Parvati tells us we're not allowed to eat it in her mum's car, so we all end up sitting in a line on the wall around the corner from the exclusive gym. A group of toned and tanned ladies dressed in expensive leggings and branded T-s.h.i.+rts give us looks that range from disapproval to sympathy as they walk past, Pilates mats rolled up under their arms. We aren't exactly an attractive bunch: Dongle's sweating through the grey vest he put on; Anna and Parvati are still looking peaky despite the shower, their meal punctuated by the occasional sigh as if eating is tiring. Of the two of us who aren't hungover, I'm blotchy and miserable and Owen just looks plain miserable.

I don't know what Owen's excuse is, but every bite of my hash brown is a battle against the rising sickness I feel at the thought of Tom's hands on another girl's skin, him kissing her the way he kissed me last night...

When I look down, the hash brown I'm holding has turned into a potatoey mush between my fingers.

Back at the campsite, I stop off to collect my phone from the charging tent I'll have to remind Ruby to do hers later. It's exactly the sort of thing she'll leave until it's too late. There's a new message from Mum.

Someone's written FLEAS!!! on the kitchen calendar. Am I supposed to know why? Do I have fleas? Do you? I can't think it's your sister.

I message back telling her that Morag's flea treatment is under the sink, signing off by reminding her to wash her hands afterwards and telling her that I love her. What I want to do is ring her and cry down the phone, confessing what I've done, but I'm not sure that will help. Mum is pretty hard-hearted when it comes to relations.h.i.+ps she was happier when I told her I'd broken up with Tom than when I told her I was in love with him and I envisage words of comfort that can be translated into the English language as ”I told you so”.

Then, because I obviously have a m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.tic streak a mile wide, I reread Tom's messages that were waiting for me when I turned my phone back on first thing this morning, before I'd even unzipped my sleeping bag.

Kaz, I want you to know that the only mistake I've made was to break up with you in the first place. I want to be with you. Give me the weekend to make things right, OK?

The next message is shorter: Please don't hate me.

The problem is that I don't hate him I hate myself ...

His last message is shorter still: I love you.

... because I love him too. Still.

RUBY.

The others get back just as I'm finis.h.i.+ng my make-up. Ruffling my fingers through the back of the hair that I hate, I figure I'll do. As I've told Kaz a thousand times, it isn't what you've got that matters, it's how you work it.

The thought of facing Kaz jabs at my insides like someone's out there working a Ruby Kalinski voodoo doll. I can't stop thinking about how we left things last night jab after I took my rage at myself out on the person I love the most jab, jab, jab how I made my best friend cry because I couldn't carving knife of guilt straight to the heart.

I have got to make this right.

KAZ.

Ruby emerges from the tent dressed in her ubiquitous cut-offs and the string vest she bought last week from the Army & Navy Store, bright purple bra contrasting beneath. She's wearing a sweep of khaki eyeliner to match the vest, but it looks fresher, cleaner than yesterday's. When she sees me, she repositions the two kirby grips she's holding in her lips to look like fangs then gives me a vampire smile as she twists her hair away from her face.

This is the Ruby I'm used to.

”Present for you.” I hold out a crumpled brown bag that she falls on like a starving seagull, ripping the paper in her haste to get to what's inside. It's not a pretty sight, but it's a welcome one my plan for today is to make sure Ruby eats more than she drinks. I'm not making any excuses for her, but I don't think yesterday's alcohol consumption helped matters.

”How are you feeling?” I ask, sitting next to her on the gra.s.s in front of our tent.

”A bajillionty times better thanks to you.” Ruby looks around, as if checking we're alone. We're not, but the others are cl.u.s.tered on the other side of the dead fire. ”And I'm sorry. So sorry. I'm sober and using my indoor voice and” she reaches out to lay her hands on my shoulders, tilting me towards her so I can see how earnest she is ”I get why you tried to protect me from Stu and that's what I thought I was doing with Tom, only I'm sorry, because it's not very protective to shout such mean stuff at you and a lot of it wasn't really that true, except about his trousers, and if you want to be with Tom-” She stops as I start to shake, my eyes squeezed shut against the tears that are welling up. ”Kaz? Are you all right? What's wrong? Oh G.o.d, I'm so sorry.”

I shake my head and a fragment of a teardrop flies from the corner of my eye. I don't say anything, but I don't need to. Ruby's there already, her arms around me so that no one else will know I'm crying. Sniffing, dabbing at my nose with one of the napkins that Ruby's shoved at me, I sit back up and face her.

”You were right. Tom's seeing someone else.”

Ruby's face is a battlefield of emotions despair, triumph, sympathy, sadness before she settles on the safest, the one she's always latched on to because it's the easiest to feel.

Anger.

”What a c.o.c.kwomble!” Ruby gently punches her fist into her palm. ”Want me to hurt him? I know how to make it look like an accident...”

RUBY.

At least she can laugh. That's got to count for something. We hug again and when Kaz gives me a squeeze, she whispers her own apology.

”Sorry I didn't listen to you.”

I squeeze her tight. ”Don't worry about it. No harm done, right? Unless you want me to cause harm? I was serious about hurting him.”

KAZ.

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