How we were going to love enough to fill a hundred houses with trinkets and silly memories. How we were going to wear novelty socks, and watch the tide come in together, and make love on the sand.
Mark Roberts cried for me that night, in a way I hope I never see anyone cry again. Purging sobs that racked his soul and broke his heart.
But then, in the new day, he came back to me.
His eyes cleared, and his smile widened, and he held me like I was his everything.
And that’s when I knew beyond all doubt that I’d been right the whole time. Knew beyond all doubt that my heart had known what my mind didn’t yet understand.
He was meant for me, and I was meant for him.
And he’d known it, too.
“I meant we’re cut from similar cloth… it’s not just the artistic eye, it’s the way of viewing the world. You could cut through the differences, the personality traits, the life history, even the age gap, and what you’d have left is the same creative current running through us both. That’s what I meant… That’s how I see it…”
And that’s how I saw it, too.
I loved Mark Roberts and he loved me.
And it would be forever.
***
Helen
Back to cold, hard reality, only I wasn’t ready.
My legs felt like jelly and my feet felt like concrete lumps, and my uniform felt stiff as a board and way too small for me. I hated it.
I hated what it meant.
Two weeks of bliss had flown by, and I’d been spat out of Heaven, landing straight back in my school shoes like nothing had changed. But everything had changed.
I’d changed.
I waited by the alleyway and checked my phone again but there was nothing from Lizzie. I’d been trying to reach her for a week, dropping her instant messages and calls and texts, but she’d reply with nothing more than a at Nan’s, speak soon. The thought made my stomach churn worse than it was already.
And then, just when things were shit and awkward enough, there was Dad’s casual announcement over breakfast.
“I’m covering Frank’s leave these next few weeks. Long shifts, Helen. You’ll have to pull your weight around here, look after your sister with your mum working as well.”
“But, Dad! can’t someone else cover? I mean, I’m busy now…”
“We’re all bloody busy, Helen. Holiday time’s over. Lover boy will have to wait.”
Frank worked evenings and weekends, covering the city runs to Hereford and back. Which meant, for all intents and purposes, I was grounded.
No Mark.
And no Lizzie either, seemingly.
I trudged my way into school, craving a couple of drags on one of her cigarettes, just like old times, and almost fainted when I spotted her in the distance, walking along with none other than Rachel Panter, the girl who’d been snogging Scottie’s face off at the winter ball.
Just what the fuck?
I followed them, trailing behind until they disappeared into the sixth form common room, which we generally avoided at all costs, not least because it was bitch bag central and full of mean girls and nastiness. Seemingly not today, not enough to keep Lizzie out of there.
I followed them upstairs and into the study area, to a backdrop of cackling as the Jennings’ posse caught sight of me.
“Hey, Helen. How’s Harry?”
“Hey, Helen. Are those little boy tits still frostbitten?”
“Hey, Helen. We didn’t know you were such a little slut, Helen. We didn’t know you liked it in public with the whole world watching.”
“Hey, Helen. You’re such a pathetic little loser.”
For once it meant nothing, not any of it, not a single bit.
Lizzie didn’t see me before I’d grabbed her elbow. She spun with wide eyes and a big old pout on her face. Her expression softened as she saw it was me, but only a little.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s going on? I was trying to call you, like loads.”
She raised an eyebrow and looked at Rachel, and Rachel stared at me with her fake blonde hair twisted around her fingers. “I wouldn’t exactly call it loads, Hels.”
I thought back through the holidays. It had been loads. Well, a few times, at least every day. Maybe every other…
“I was trying to get hold of you, Lizzie.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, you didn’t. I guess you weren’t trying all that hard.”
“You said you were at your nan’s…”
“I was. Some of the time.” She folded her arms.
“I was worried about you…”
Rachel laughed, and it was a stupid nasty laugh. But Lizzie looked sad, and I felt guilty for things I didn’t even understand. “Worried?” she said, and her voice was cold. “Yeah, well, thanks, but there’s no need. I’m pretty damn cool, thanks.”
“You are?” I kept my voice hopeful, friendly.
“Yeah, I am.” She hitched her satchel up onto her shoulder, then pushed on past me. “Got maths, gotta go. See you later.”
“When?” I said. “We walking home?”
She rolled her eyes, and Rachel laughed again. “Like you’re going to be around, Hels. Forget it, alright. I’ll see you.”
And she left me. Lizzie left me.