During that time Suzanne didn’t talk much about her relationship with Sarah, though I knew things were still strained since Christmas and what had happened before. I had assumed that Suzanne had stopped sneaking out of the flat because she’d stopped talking about doing so, but it turned out that this was just my naivety at play. She wasn’t sneaking out to my house – presumably she’d considered the previous trip a mistake – but she was still sneaking out.
It was a Wednesday evening in February when I heard a knock at my front door. It was almost 10 p.m., late for an unexpected visitor. I listened with one ear to see if I could tell who it was, most of my attention on the physics textbook in front of me. The realization that the voice was Sarah’s hit me almost a whole minute later and I jerked my head up, the textbook falling closed in my lap.
I slid off my bed and crept along the hall, closer to the stairs, straining to hear actual words. Sarah’s voice drifted up towards me.
‘Not answering her phone . . . thought she was in her room . . . does this all the time now . . .’
I turned and hurried back to my room, scrabbling to find my phone from where I’d dropped it carelessly on the bed earlier. Finding it under my pillow, I tapped the screen and called Suzanne. It rang once, twice, three times.
‘Hello?’ Suzanne’s voice was weirdly breathless. ‘Cads?’
‘Hey,’ I said quickly, not bothering to ask why she sounded funny or where she was. ‘Listen, Sarah’s here. She knows you’ve sneaked out again. Better get back home quick, before she does.’
‘Shit. Thank you!’ She hung up immediately, as I’d expected she would.
‘You’re welcome,’ I said to the silent phone. I tossed it back on to my bed, turned around and let out a shriek. Mum was standing in the doorway I’d left open, arms crossed, watching me.
Still keeping her eyes on me and barely moving her head, Mum called, ‘She’s not here, Sarah. But she’s had a tip-off so she’s probably on her way home already.’
Sarah appeared behind Mum, a frown on her face. ‘A tip-off?’
‘Why don’t you repeat to Sarah what I just heard you say to Suzanne, Cadnam?’ Mum asked. Her voice was deceptively calm.
I tried to remember what I’d said and in what timeframe, the barest amount I could get away with admitting.
‘That she should get home, because Sarah’s looking for her?’ I said finally, more out of hope than expectation.
‘Nice try,’ Mum said flatly. She turned to Sarah. ‘I’m sorry my daughter is turning out to be something of an enabler.’
I had no idea what this meant.
‘I’m sorry my niece is turning out to be such a bad influence,’ Sarah responded. She looked at me, her expression disappointed. ‘I know you must think you’re being a good friend by doing something like that, and I know she must have said things that make you think you need to do something like that, but I’m really not an enemy here.’
I shifted uncomfortably on the spot, hoping she’d leave so Mum could shout at me and get it over with. But when Sarah did leave, there was no shouting.
‘Should I be concerned about you and Suzanne?’ she asked me, coming right into my room and sitting on my bed as if I’d invited her in.
I paused before answering, surprised at this line of questioning. ‘Um . . . no?’
‘I know things are a little tense between her and Sarah,’ she said, ‘and I know that she has something of a habit of coming and going at all hours, but I didn’t know any of that involved you.’
‘It hardly involves me,’ I protested.
‘No?’ She looked sceptical. ‘Calling her with tip-offs?’
‘Well –’ I began, then stopped. ‘Wait. How do you know about her coming and going at all hours?’
‘Sarah told me,’ Mum said, like it was obvious. Seeing my face, she let out a laugh. ‘Adults are capable of forming friendships too, you know.’
I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of this. ‘So she’s told you stuff about Suzanne?’ I wondered if it was anything I didn’t know.
‘Some things, yes,’ Mum said, giving nothing away. ‘Now, let me say this.’ My heart sank and I let out an involuntary sigh, which she ignored. ‘I think it’s wonderful that you want to be a friend to Suzanne. Really. It makes me proud that you’re able to be that kind of a friend to someone who needs it.’ As if Suzanne was some kind of charity case and my friendship was a gift instead of something we shared. ‘But I do hope that you’re going to be sensible with this. Don’t get involved with this kind of behaviour. And, if you really want to be a friend, you should discourage it.’
‘OK,’ I said, hoping she’d leave.
‘I’m not going to punish you for this,’ Mum continued, and I bit my tongue to stop myself saying something sarcastic, ‘but if anything like this happens again, it will make me rethink whether it’s a good idea for the two of you to be friends.’
‘It’s not like I need your permission to be friends with someone,’ I said without thinking.
Her eyebrows moved upward and stayed there, like a warning. ‘I just hope you are as sensible as I think you are, and know better than to be swept along with a troublemaker, however charming she is.’
Not long after Mum had finally left me alone, my phone screen lit up with a message from Suzanne. ‘BUSTED! But thanks for trying! You’re the best xx’