Mum didn’t say much until we were out of the supermarket and heading towards the car. Then it began.
‘I had a lovely chat with Sarah,’ she said, manoeuvring the trolley around an ineptly parked car. ‘She seems like a lovely person.’ The double use of lovely meant she must really be impressed. ‘And I must say, what a saint – taking on Suzanne.’ She stopped at the car, keys already in hand, and opened the boot.
I felt my forehead crease. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I mean, teenagers are hard enough work as it is –’ Mum shot me a pointed look at this, beginning to load the bags into the car – ‘but factor in the situation here and . . . well, it’s a lot to take on, I’m sure.’
‘It’s probably worse for Suzanne,’ I said flatly.
‘Perhaps,’ Mum said, only fanning my growing annoyance. ‘Take the trolley back will you, love?’
When I returned to the car and slid into the passenger seat, clicking the seat belt into place, Mum continued where she’d left off.
‘I hope she’s getting regular counselling.’ She adjusted her seat and tapped her keys gently against the steering wheel. She looked at me. ‘Is she getting regular counselling?’
‘How would I know?’ I pulled my elbow up against the window frame and slouched a little in my seat.
‘There’s no need to take that tone.’ Mum reached over and straightened my seat belt, which had twisted near my shoulder. ‘I could recommend some fantastic therapists who work with teenagers. You should find out for sure.’
Like I was really going to ask my friend if she was having counselling, for God’s sake.
‘OK, I’ll try,’ I said.
‘How does she seem to you?’ Mum asked, oblivious to my sarcasm. ‘Does she seem like she’s coping well?’
‘She’s fine, Mum,’ I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. ‘Can we go home now?’
‘I’d be surprised if that were the case,’ Mum said, making no move to put the keys in the ignition. ‘Growing up in that kind of environment, it has a profound effect. Children rarely pass through their teenage years unscathed.’
Are you a therapist now? I wanted to say. I so wanted to say it.
‘And this can have a negative impact on their relationships,’ she continued. ‘I did wonder if there was something strained about how she and Sarah were with each other.’
As opposed to what? How relaxed and open Mum and I were right this moment?
‘Can we please go home?’
Mum ignored me. She was sat back in her seat, fiddling with her keys, her head tilted slightly upward, eyes on the ceiling. She seemed like she was thinking hard, and she didn’t say anything for at least a minute.
‘I hope you’ll be careful in your friendship with her,’ she said finally, delicately.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Damaged people—’
‘Mum! You can’t say things like that!’
‘I’m trying to be frank with you,’ Mum said, raising her hand to indicate she had more to say. ‘And yes, it is upsetting and unfair, and I certainly don’t want you using the term in front of her, but it’s important that you recognize what damage has been done to her. And what effect that could have on your friendship and the way you interact.’
My face felt hot, and a big part of me wanted to get out of the car and bolt, just to get away from her. There was something horrible about what she was saying, and she either didn’t recognize it or just didn’t care.
‘My priority is you,’ Mum said. ‘I worry about what effect this will have on you. People in pain can be very self-destructive. And sometimes they pull in the people who are close to them, often without realizing.’
‘I’ll be sure to be on the lookout for destruction,’ I said, this time letting the sarcasm soak into my words. Mum looked at me for a moment like she didn’t know me.
It worked though. She put the key into the ignition and turned it, finally letting the matter drop.
By the time December rolled around, I was up to my neck in exam revision and barely had time to see my family, let alone Rosie or Suzanne. I kept in touch with both of them by text, getting so used to their respective styles that I didn’t even need to check the name any more. Rosie was full of her special brand of snarky cheer in her messages; Suzanne far more random and quick to joke. When I told her that I was revising for my Religious Studies exam, she went through a phase of messaging me with Deep And Important questions.
Caddy, is the green grass you see the same green grass as the green grass I see?
Caddy, would you be able to fly if you really believed you could?
Caddy, what is life?
Caddy, what if you’re dreaming right now? WAKE UP CADDY.
And so on.
On a Wednesday evening in early December I was taking a break from revising, playing an unfeasibly addictive game on my laptop, when my phone began buzzing beside me. I reached distractedly over for it, keeping one hand tapping on my keyboard. I was about a minute from a new high score.
Fingers scrabbling, I found the answer button.
‘Hello?’