‘Um.’ STOP UMMING, STEFFI. ‘Yeah.’
There’s a pause, and then suddenly Aled’s voice is urgent and serious. ‘Has something happened to my brother?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Well, I mean, no, nothing, like, really bad. You don’t need to worry.’
‘OK, stop. You’re rambling.’ There’s a control and authority to the way he speaks that I find both impressive and intimidating. ‘Just give me the facts.’
I give myself a moment to get my nerves under control, and the fact that he allows me this makes me think that Rhys has told him more than just a little about my issues. ‘We’re in Edinburgh,’ I begin. ‘We went up Arthur’s Seat. And Rhys kind of . . . fell.’
‘Shit.’ There’s a catch in his voice, and something about it makes me think of Clark.
‘It’s just broken bones,’ I say hastily. I probably should have opened with that. ‘He’s fine. It’s just, he can’t sign because . . . well, you know. So . . .’
‘Where are you now?’
‘The hospital. Can you . . .’
‘Yes. I’ll come right now, OK? I’m on my way.’
Seven hours later and I am in bed at Dad’s house, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out exactly how I got here.
It just seems so, overwhelmingly, unfair. Rhys stumbles slightly on a pebble and by a trick of misfortune he falls awkwardly instead of righting himself, as he would have done ninety-nine other times out of a hundred. And that tiny accident – the step he took to right himself being off by a couple of degrees – has ruined everything.
After Aled arrived at the hospital, everything seemed to happen really fast. I was suddenly no longer necessary now that a functioning male adult was present and, worst of all, I found myself out of reasons to put off calling my parents. Any hope I might have had of Rhys and I being able to continue our mini-holiday were well and truly dashed. Aled was friendly, but he had a no-nonsense way about him and it was clear that secret fun time was over.
I called Dad and explained what had happened, which was not the most enjoyable conversation of my life, especially when I had to ask him for money so I could buy a ticket home.
‘I’ll do one better,’ he said. ‘I’m coming to get you.’
And he did. He went straight to the airport and got on a flight to Edinburgh so fast he actually made it there before I’d even left the hospital.
‘Are you angry with me?’ I ventured, ten minutes after take-off. He’d barely said three words to me up to that point.
Dad took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘Surprised. Disappointed, maybe.’ He blinked a little, then slid his glasses back up his nose before looking directly at me. ‘And a little proud.’
I felt my face jerk in surprise. ‘Proud?’
‘Just a little.’ I saw a small smile spread on his face before he looked away from me and out of the window at the darkening sky.
I’m staring at the dark ceiling, letting this memory wind its way lazily through my mind, when my heart gives an almighty, sickening lurch.
Tem.
I have forgotten Tem.
I grab for my phone, tapping on to WhatsApp, hearing my panicked breath in my ears. Why did I turn the notifications off? Why?! There are seventeen unread messages from her and seven missed calls. Oh God.
Tem:
Why can’t I come over?
It’s OK if you’re with Rhys! I can come over later ?
Steeefffffffffiiiiiiii
Stef?
[Missed call x 3]
Why have you stopped replying? ?
Please call me. I need you.
STEFFI
[Missed call]
Tem:
My heart is broken. I need my best friend.
Where.
Are.
You.
K I’m starting to get mad now.
[Missed call x 2]
Are you seriously ignoring me for a boy?
FOR GOD’S SAKE STEF I’M CRYING HERE
My heart hurts
[Missed call]
Fine. Have fun with your boyfriend.
I hate you.
My hands are shaking as I send the quickest replies I can.
Steffi:
I’m here. I’m SO sorry. Rhys had an accident,
have been in the hospital. Turned off phone.
I know it’s not enough. It’s almost ten hours since I stopped replying to her first messages. There’s no excuse for ignoring her for that long.
I’m too wired with nerves to wait for her to reply, so I carry on.
Steffi:
I was in Edinburgh. It was a secret trip
for me and Rhys. I was going to tell you.
I end up sending her five messages in my panic, too full of adrenalin to stop and think about whether or not this is a good idea. Trying to explain myself is suddenly all that’s important in the entire world.
It’s in the silence after my frantic typing that I realize what I’ve just done, which is to pour out my guilt with no context or accompanying apology-face. I’ve made a giant, colossal mistake. I should have apologized briefly but sincerely, then waited until tomorrow morning to go and speak to her in person. Sending her a stream of consciousness ramble is the worst thing I could have done.