Cutting the call, I close my eyes. It’s not like Nick to switch his phone off. Even when he drives, he has it on the dashboard in a cradle and whenever it makes a sound he peers at the screen, taking his eyes off the road. I always scold him. ‘It was just for a second,’ he will say but I know a second is sometimes all it takes to change your life. Cars are dangerous, dangerous things. Panic ricochets around my mind and I try to tell myself I’m overreacting, but it’s impossible to keep calm as I pace the kitchen, googling the numbers of local hospitals. I can’t decide what to do. Nick’s been so preoccupied these past few weeks, the last thing I want to do is cause a fuss about nothing.
I pick up my book thinking I’ll try to settle by the window in the lounge instead. That way I’ll see his car when he crunches into the driveway, and I can dash back to the kitchen, cook the rice and he’ll never know how much I’ve worried. I don’t immediately switch on the light in the lounge. I stare out the window. The blackness has turned the glass to a mirror and, at first, all I can see is my worried face reflected back at me, but my eyes gradually adjust until I can make out a shape at the end of the driveway. A car. Nick’s car. My spirits lift as I wait for the click of the door, the interior light to glow, but there’s no movement. The clock ticks. Minutes pass. I don’t know how long he has been there but he must be waiting for the pelting rain to slow, I reason; my breath is coming faster, fogging up the glass. There’s something about heavy rain that feels almost ominous. The atmosphere seems to thicken. I wish the thunder would come and lighten the air. The rain batters the window and through the cascading water I notice the light from Clare’s hallway spilling out into the blackness as it switches on. Unable to wait any longer I hurry to the hallway and jab my feet into shoes, plucking the large umbrella from behind the coat stand. Opening the front door, I step outside. The wind whisks the umbrella inside out. Grappling to hang onto the handle I almost don’t see the shadow moving across the street, stalking towards my house, and when I notice it’s Nick I step back inside.
‘I was waiting for you to get out of your car?’ I turn my face away as he wipes his shoes on the doormat, shaking his head like a dog, droplets of freezing rain splashing my skin. ‘Did you come from Clare’s?’
‘Yes. I saw her pull into her driveway. I went to tell her that her left brake light is out.’
‘You’re so good. And now you’re soaked. Do you want to nip and get changed? Dinner’s ready when you are.’
‘Lovely. It smells great.’ Nick is distracted as he shrugs off his jacket.
From the kitchen, my mobile starts to trill Justin Timberlake’s ‘Like I Love You’, the tone I set specifically for Lisa as she used to love the song so much.
I hurry to answer the call before my voicemail kicks in.
‘Hi, Lisa!’ At first, I can’t make out whether Lisa has pocket dialled me by mistake, all I can hear is background noise, but then I realise it is her sobbing. ‘Lisa?’ My stomach flips.
‘Kat.’ Lisa gulps air and her sobs turn to hiccups. It seems an age before she can speak. ‘I slipped on the ice and… Kat… I’m bleeding. I think I’m losing the baby.’
And just like that my world shatters again.
16
Then
‘You look so tired,’ Mum said as she cleared away the breakfast things. It was always boiled eggs on a Saturday and, childishly, I still had the urge to turn the shell upside down in my eggcup and draw on a happy face.
I stifled a yawn. I was exhausted. The last month had been a frantic round of revision, play rehearsals and juggling Lisa and Jake, all without Dad finding out I had my first boyfriend. It wasn’t purely Dad not giving me permission to date while I was still at school that had kept me single up until now. I had never had a boyfriend before because I had never wanted one. I’d never felt that pull other girls seemed to feel. That ‘I fancy him,’ or ‘Isn’t he hot?’ For a brief time, I had wondered if I was a lesbian, but I’d never felt attracted to girls either. Was there something wrong with me? I would sit cross-legged on Lisa’s bed, posters of Justin Timberlake covering her pale pink walls, and I’d imagined him kissing me, touching me, but I didn’t feel anything other than slightly repulsed. Now it was different: every time Jake kissed me, touched me, I understood why love sometimes drove people to do terrible, terrible things. The rush of adrenaline, the out of control sensation. Jake was a craving; as vital to me as air and food.
‘Take some time out today. It will do you good.’ Mum clattered plates into the sink.
‘It’s nearly—’ Dad jumped in.
‘Exams. Yes. So it’s almost study leave, and how much good is it doing Kat poring over and over the same pages? It’s Saturday.’
‘But her offer—’
‘Is conditional,’ Mum finished. ‘We know but she’s doing well. Let her have a break.’ There was something firm and final in Mum’s tone. It didn’t happen often, this shift in power, but every now and then something would flash behind her eyes and she turned into a different person almost. Someone strong and assertive and not like Mum at all and, in those moments, Dad was different too. Smaller. Unsure. Not quite knowing how to cope when his authority was challenged. Panicking almost.
He cleared his throat. ‘Get some fresh air but be back by dinner time, Katherine,’ he said gruffly, as though it was his idea all along. He picked up his empty mug, and for once, he was the one to switch the kettle on.
Jake and I climbed into the back of Aaron’s dad’s van and, as Aaron slammed the door shut, it almost felt like the end of something. Instantly, it was hot and airless, a suffocating blackness. The stench of paint and turps was sharp. I held on to the carrier bags containing our picnic food with one hand; my other hand fumbled for Jake. From the front, Lisa’s voice drifted until the ignition sparked and I was buffeted left to right as the van pulled away. The vibrations from the engine clattered my teeth. Although we weren’t going far it seemed an age before the roar of passing traffic fell away and we were bumping along a country track. I was relieved we were nearly there. Although I’d never had a problem with confined spaces before my throat was stinging from inhaling chemicals; a headache burned behind my eyes.
The second the van was still and silent I leapt for the handle, rattling it furiously. Outside, I could hear the muted tones of Aaron and Lisa.
‘Let us out.’ I hammered on the door with both fists, a feeling of panic building when I realised it didn’t open from the inside.
On the other side of the door I could hear Aaron laughing.
‘What’s the magic word?’
‘Don’t be a tosser,’ shouted Jake, and there was a silence and a horrible, overwhelming feeling rose that we’d be stuck here forever.
‘Lisa,’ I shouted, and at last there was a click, a startling brightness, and I almost fell out of the open door as I gulped in fresh air. An impromptu picnic had seemed like fun, but the smell of paint coated my lungs, dissipating my earlier good mood. Aaron grinned at me, and I felt a pricking sensation at the back of my eyes and I willed myself not to cry. It was discomfiting that Lisa didn’t seem to notice how upset I was: we’d always been so in tune with each other before, but more and more, I had been spending time with Jake, her with Aaron, and it occurred to me for the first time that, one day, we would no longer be the most important people in each other’s lives. Perhaps that distance had already started growing. I glared at Aaron as though he was personally responsible for the hairline crack that had formed in our relationship.
We walked in a line, flattening undergrowth, ducking under branches. The woodland floor was dappled with shimmers of sunlight, a warm breeze rustling the leaves of the trees that bowed to greet us. I’d calmed down by the time we reached the clearing and was ready to make a concerted effort to get to know Aaron. He and Lisa weren’t yet a couple but I had a feeling she wanted to be. She’d taken extra care with her appearance that day – a short, floral dress – it seemed like ages since I’d seen her socially – out of her school uniform.
‘You’ve lost loads of weight, Lisa. You look great.’
‘Thanks. Aaron’s been helping.’