‘How come you didn’t bring them to Brighton?’ I asked.
The grin reappeared, sudden and bright. ‘Oh God, I don’t like them that much.’ She reached out impulsively and tugged on my sleeve. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Want to meet my friends?’
We met up with her friends in town just as it started to get dark. They were excitable, loud and far more ordinary than I’d built them up to be in my head. I had imagined, given they’d been friends with Suzanne during her most formative adolescent years, that they would all be larger than life and intimidating, like her. But they were just people, with the same variations and similarities as any group of friends.
‘Oh my fucking God.’ This was practically shouted at us as we first approached the group by a tall, curly-haired boy who broke apart from the crowd to rush Suzanne with a hug. ‘I wouldn’t believe it till I saw you.’ He was called Toby, Suzanne told me when they broke apart, flushed and happy.
In the confusion of introductions – which were themselves swallowed up by shrieks, hugs and greetings to Suzanne – I gave up trying to keep track of everyone’s name. I decided to just keep a smile on my face and nod along if and when anyone spoke to me.
We headed as a group to McDonald’s, spreading ourselves over one of the tables and sharing portions of fries and chicken nuggets. I stuck close to Suzanne, who was sat cross-legged on top of the table, ignoring the food and talking about Brighton. Every now and then she’d reach out a hand, tug playfully on my hair, throw me a huge grin and then return to her story. She talked about getting suspended, but she told the story with a slant, as if the whole thing had just been one big joke.
‘I can’t believe you got suspended.’ One of the girls, Liz, whom I’d established was Toby’s girlfriend, was laughing, but she looked a little concerned.
‘This wasn’t my fault,’ Suzanne said. ‘Was it, Cads?’
They all looked at me and I wished, not for the first time, that humans had some kind of control over their blushing reflex. ‘Well,’ I said, trying to make my voice as light as hers, ‘you did throw a chair.’
She grinned at me and shrugged. ‘True. But he deserved it.’
‘Oh, totally,’ I said, then hated myself as I caught an amused smile pass between two girls whose names I’d forgotten. Tow-tar-lee. My stupid private-school diction.
By the time it got dark we’d moved from McDonald’s to a shabby-looking off-licence, which was staffed by an equally shabby-looking man, who barely glanced at us, even as we heaped bottles of vodka on to the counter. ‘Do you want to share with me?’ Suzanne asked, prodding me with a two-litre bottle of Coke and gesturing to a cheap bottle of vodka. ‘We can mix.’
‘Sure,’ I said quickly, happy to follow her lead.
We ended up in a park that had absolutely nothing to distinguish it from any park in the country. I sat on my jacket, trying to tell myself I wasn’t cold, listening to the happy shrieks of laughter around me. Suzanne had opened the Coke and was pouring some of it on the grass, her head tilted slightly, judging how much should be left. She set it upright, balanced between her knees, and poured the vodka straight into it. She screwed the lid back on, gave the bottle a careful shake, then passed it to me. ‘All right?’ she said.
It was so strong I almost choked. ‘Great!’ I said, my eyes tearing, and she laughed.
‘It’s just because it hasn’t mixed properly,’ she promised. ‘It’ll get better.’
Regardless, I took a couple of sickening gulps, hoping the vodka would go straight to my head and make this whole thing a little easier. Suzanne’s friends were friendly enough, but this kind of situation would never be one I’d feel comfortable in.
Here I was, somehow, sitting in a random park in the middle of Reading with people I didn’t know. I thought with a sudden, unexpected pang of Brighton beach, with the uncomfortable, cold pebbles I’d complained about for years. The sea stretching out in front, the city behind and the two piers like goalposts in the night. You always knew where you were in Brighton.
‘What time is it?’ I asked Suzanne.
‘Just gone seven,’ she said, glancing at her phone.
I took a more restrained sip from the bottle and passed it over to her, trying to calm the flutterings of anxiety in my stomach. Just gone seven was still early. We had plenty of time to get home before my absence became noteworthy.
Tarin 19.36: Hey, when will you be home? I want to watch The Lion King. Watch it with me? :) xx
19.40: Not till late. Sorry! xxxx
19.43: Where are you, btw?
19.58: Just out.
20.02: . . . my sister sense is tingling. Everything OK?
20.03: Haha yes of course! xxx