‘I’m just saying it doesn’t last forever,’ Tarin said. ‘Even if it feels like it will, you know? And you’re still in the middle of it.’ She smiled, encouraging and hopeful. ‘But you’ll be fine, love.’
This was how Tarin talked. Full of darlings and loves and gorgeouses. But the look on Suzanne’s face; it was like no one had ever said that to her before. Such a simple statement with a casual endearment, the kind I barely registered when it was aimed at me.
‘I hope so,’ Suzanne said, and there was a warmth in her voice now, the wariness gone.
Christmas was fairly quiet that year. Both my parents seemed to be on high alert to any changes to Tarin’s moods after the break-up, but she was fine, pointedly taking her medication while she had an audience of at least one of us. On Christmas Eve she slept in my bed, curling herself around me, telling me silly stories as if I was still four years old. I didn’t mind.
I saw Rosie every day of the Christmas holidays, even meeting up on Christmas Day to exchange presents, as we had done for the last few years after her baby sister had died and she’d spent that Christmas with my family. I spoke to Suzanne over the phone every day except Christmas Day, when she enacted a communications blackout for twenty-four hours before resuming normalcy as if nothing had happened.
She came around to my house almost immediately after she returned to Brighton, armed with my Christmas presents and a tin of homemade mince pies for my parents. Sarah was with her, and she sat downstairs with my mother drinking coffee while Suzanne followed me upstairs. Rosie was already in my room, stretched across my bed, playing Mario Kart.
‘Hey,’ Suzanne said, sitting down next to her and tapping her head.
‘Hey,’ Rosie said, not even looking away from the screen. ‘Good Christmas?’
‘Mmmm.’ Suzanne pulled her feet up under her and rested her chin on her knees. There was something heavy in her shoulders, I noticed then. A sadness in her eyes.
‘You OK?’ I asked, pausing in the act of unwrapping one of my presents.
Suzanne nodded quickly, a reassuring grin sweeping across her face. ‘Sure. Tired. Happy to be home.’
‘How was Reading?’ Rosie asked, still focusing most of her attention on her pixelated alter ego. She was looking away from Suzanne, clearly unaware just how unwelcome her question was.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it,’ Suzanne said, her voice still light, just casual enough. She flapped a hand at me. ‘Open it!’
I ripped aside the last remnants of wrapping paper to reveal a photo frame decorated with silver leaves and vines. The photo was the same one I had in my montage, of the three of us posing on a bench on Brighton pier.
‘I gave the same picture to Rosie,’ Suzanne said unnecessarily. I glanced at her, the smile I’d broken into still on my face, to see that her forehead had an anxious crease. ‘Because I think it’s so great. But you don’t have to display it if—’
‘I love it,’ I interrupted, and her expression relaxed. ‘It’s going on my shelf. Thank you!’ I sat up on to my knees and leaned over to hug her.
When we broke apart, I noticed the delicate chain she had around her neck, a tiny white bird hanging at its end. ‘I love your necklace!’ I said. ‘Christmas present?’
She smiled. ‘Thanks! Yes. From my mum.’ She glanced down at the bird. ‘It’s a dove. Like a promise, see? It means, like, a fresh start.’ She looked so pleased I suddenly felt choked. ‘It’s my favourite thing I’ve ever owned.’
Rosie tossed the Wii remote on to my pillow and adjusted herself so she was facing the two of us. ‘It must have been good, then,’ she said cheerfully. ‘With your mum?’
Suzanne’s face closed off. She looked away from us both, her fingers finding each other in her lap and twisting together. ‘Really don’t want to talk about it.’
Rosie shrugged. ‘Well, it’s a nice necklace anyway. And a promise? That must be good, right?’
‘How was your Christmas?’ Suzanne asked in response. Her voice was hard though, and the question came out antagonistic.
‘Better than yours, clearly,’ Rosie replied, rolling her eyes. ‘Do you want me to be sorry about that?’
I just sat there holding the photo frame, watching them. Rosie was just being her usual self, all light snark and sniping, but Suzanne clearly wasn’t herself. She was looking at Rosie with nothing but ice.
‘Did you get any other presents?’ I asked, attempting to lift the tension, even slightly.
Suzanne’s head snapped towards me. ‘For God’s sake, Caddy, what part of I don’t want to talk about it don’t you get?’
‘Hey,’ Rosie’s voice, suddenly sharp, cut through the room. ‘Be a bitch to me if you want, but don’t talk to Caddy like that.’ She’d sat up a little on her calves, all traces of humour gone from her face. Protective-best-friend mode.
The tension burned, peaked and dissipated almost as soon as it had arrived. Suzanne’s face relaxed and she looked at me. ‘Sorry.’