Forget Me Never (6 page)

Running through my mind were all the times I’d lost people. Not just Dani, but my mum, my aunt . . . and perhaps the most painful memory of all, my ‘almost adoption’. I’d
been nine years old. The Wilsons had been the kind of couple I’d never thought would go anywhere near me – they had lovely clothes, a nice clean house in a posh area and good jobs, the
kind of parents every kid in care dreams of. The bedroom I’d had when I stayed with them on trial was like heaven to me, big, spacious, a lovely bouncy bed and lilac walls – even now I
can never see that colour without feeling a little sick. As for why it all went wrong – well, I just wasn’t good enough for them. Two months in, they had second thoughts, and that was
it. It took me completely by surprise and it’s difficult to describe how crushing that had felt. If I’d done something specific wrong it would be easier to deal with, but apparently I
just wasn’t ‘the right girl’.

The really bitter blow had come two years later, when I’d secretly found my way to their house after school one day. I don’t know what I’d been hoping to find. The house looked
exactly as it had when I was there, except the door had been painted black. While I was standing taking it in, the Wilsons had drawn up in their big BMW. And in the back seat had been a girl, a
little younger than me, with shiny brown hair and a freckled, smiley face. She was the new me – but evidently a better version, else I’d have been the one in that seat, with the lilac
bedroom and a new chance. I stared at her, and she stared at me, and then the Wilsons said, ‘Sophie?’ as though they couldn’t believe it, and I ran. And I remember thinking,
crystal clear, that I would never let myself hope for anything again, because I would never be good enough, however hard I tried.

It was ten by the time I got back to Julie’s – by bus, because I’d walked too far to go back on foot. Julie came out of the living room when she heard the
front door slam.

‘Sophie! Where have you been? I was this close to calling the police.’

‘I’m fine,’ I said, sloping up the stairs.

Julie reached through the banisters and caught my arm. ‘Sophie,’ she said softly, ‘let’s talk about this—’

I shook her off. ‘What good will talking do? You think I was crazy to even go to the police about Dani. Leave me alone!’

Julie stepped back, looking resigned. I went to my room. Inside, I climbed into bed fully clothed, pulling the covers over my head.

I was pretty certain Sophie would have reacted badly to the police’s news. DI Perry had phoned Mum and explained about Aiden coming in to see him. It sounded reasonable
to me. But I wasn’t Sophie.

A freckled kid I didn’t recognize opened the door to Sophie’s house, probably a new foster-sibling. He told me Sophie was still in bed and bounded off into the living room. I could
hear what sounded like a
Toy Story
film in the background. I went upstairs, comparing it to where I lived. This house looked like a bomb site – junk crammed on shelves,
children’s toys on the stairs, laundry slung over the banisters. It made me realize how used I’d got to living in luxury.

When Sophie didn’t answer my knock, I opened the door.

‘Hey,’ I said brightly. ‘Wakey-wakey.’

Sophie rolled over and sat up, rubbing her eyes. The skin around them was puffy and stained with yesterday’s eyeliner. It looked as if she’d gone to bed in her clothes too.

‘What are you doing here?’

I tossed a paper bag into her lap. ‘Elevenses delivery. Full of gooey pastry delights.’

Sophie opened the bag and picked one out, staring at it. When she didn’t take a bite, I said, ‘Promise it isn’t spinach in disguise. Think that one’s custard.’

Sophie put the pastry back in the bag and closed it. ‘Don’t fancy right now.’

‘How about a thank you? That bakery wasn’t on my way, y’know.’ I perched on the side of the desk, shifting a laptop and some books to make space. How the heck did she
cope living in this shoebox of a room? It would’ve driven me spare. ‘Tried to call you yesterday. I take it the police had a word.’

She shrugged. ‘It made sense. End of story, I guess.’

‘Hey, where’s your fighting spirit? I was expecting you to be insisting they’d got it wrong.’

‘Maybe I would be, if I hadn’t got Aiden’s side of the story afterwards.’

She explained what had happened in the park.

‘Are you serious?’ I exclaimed, leaning forward and nearly falling off the desk. ‘The guy followed you? Soph, that’s proper stalker behaviour! Are you not even mildly
freaked out?’

‘Not any more. He was OK.’

‘I don’t give a toss how OK he was! He still
followed
you.’

‘Yeah, but I can understand why he felt he had to talk to me. I wanted to blame him for everything, but what’s the point?’ She paused. I had nothing to say; I didn’t like
hearing her sound this defeated. ‘For a while I was convinced that someone must have killed her. But it’s like Perry said, isn’t it? At most Aiden’s
indirectly
responsible. Or maybe he had nothing to do with it and she jumped because she was unstable. I’ll never know. I should just get over it.’

I shrugged. Letting Danielle go probably was the best thing Sophie could do, but it didn’t seem very loyal to say so. Sophie started fiddling with the bedsheets, popping and unpopping the
end of the duvet cover. After a moment she said, ‘Didn’t mean to drag you into this.’

I made a non-committal noise.

‘D’you want to stay for lunch?’ Sophie asked. ‘If you don’t mind hanging around while I get up.’

I went downstairs to wait and watched the end of
Toy Story 2
with the kids. After about half an hour Sophie appeared, looking a lot fresher. She gave me a self-conscious smile. We went
into the kitchen and shared the pastries I’d brought while she made some ham sandwiches. She still wasn’t saying much. I wondered if she felt weird about me being around her house
again.

‘Wanna do something this afternoon?’ I asked.

Sophie looked at me with a slight frown. ‘What kind of thing?’

I didn’t actually have a plan so I improvised. ‘Let’s go on the London Eye.’ As soon as I said it I knew I’d made a mistake. The Eye would be way too expensive for
Sophie. Quickly I added, ‘I’ll pay. Haven’t spent all my birthday money yet.’

I was convinced that Sophie would refuse. She hated money being an issue. Plus, I was hyper-aware that it sounded like I was asking her on a date. To my surprise she smiled.

‘You don’t like heights. The Eye’s a slow version of a big wheel – you chicken out of those at theme parks. And does the Year 8 trip to Edinburgh Castle ring any bells?
As I remember, there was a lot of complaining from you that going up on the battlements was a waste of time – and then deathly silence once we were up there . . .’

‘I wasn’t scared. I was admiring the view.’

‘Yeah, right. Let’s go.’

On the tube together it was almost like old times. When we reached the South Bank there was a staggeringly long queue of tourists by the Eye but it moved more quickly than we
expected. As we got in our pod and it started to rise, I realized this wasn’t a good idea. I’d thought the Eye would be fine because it moves so slowly. Unfortunately I’d
forgotten how small the world starts to look when you get up high. I retreated to the bench in the centre of the pod where it seemed safest, leaving everyone else oohing and aahing about the view
from the sides.

‘Knew you’d wimp out.’ Sophie wasn’t making any effort to disguise her laughter. ‘Come on, coward, live a little. There’s a great view of Big Ben.’

‘I’m not a coward. I just have a highly toned sense of self-preservation,’ I said, feeling my stomach clench. Good job this wasn’t a date. Talk about losing street cred!
‘I can see Big Ben supremely well from ground level, thanks.’

‘Like I said: coward. What d’you think the Eye’s going to do, suddenly topple over and crash into the Thames?’

‘First time for everything,’ I said. But as we eased our way higher I ventured nearer to the windows. Actually it was pretty cool. We’d picked a clear day and could see for
miles. So long as I didn’t look directly down I was fine.

After we’d done the full cycle we went along to Tate Modern and mocked the crazy artwork. It was great just to be with Sophie without talking about Danielle. It was, simply, a nice,
ordinary day – exactly what we both needed.

Wednesday was busy. I spent the morning in Save the Animals and then sought out Paloma and co. in the park. We ended up moving on to the milkshake bar. It felt good to be doing
normal things. On the way we passed Broom Hill. As I looked at the grey buildings and imagined myself walking back through the doors in a few weeks’ time I felt a horrible sense of dread.

It was only when I was making my way home that evening that I had a chance to think about Danielle. Now I’d had time to reflect I didn’t feel anywhere near as angry as I had been
– just sad. At least now I’d talked to Aiden I had some kind of closure.

As I was walking down the road, digging in my bag for keys, I noticed a blue Mini parked opposite my house. I never normally noticed cars – but I’d seen this one before . . .

It had been parked in exactly the same spot when I’d come back from the London Eye yesterday. I had noticed it because it was one of those new, hip Minis that sometimes have a pattern on
the roof, a Union Jack or something. April, the seven-year-old Julie’s fostering, has a Barbie car just like it. I had been able to make out the driver’s outline and had assumed he was
waiting to pick someone up, which had struck me as funny. Our road is mainly full of old people. I couldn’t imagine any of them ever jumping into a cool car, let alone at 9 p.m. when they
could be home watching
Midsomer Murders
.

So who was it waiting for? Yet again the driver was sitting inside. I didn’t have a great view of him – I was approaching from behind – and I was a little afraid of looking
back once I’d passed by. Maybe it was paranoia, but something was warning me not to freak out – to act normal. I let myself into the house and ran upstairs to Julie’s room. I knew
there would be binoculars there – Julie birdwatches every so often. Finding them, I went back into my room and closed the door behind me.

You’re being silly, I told myself as I approached the window, from the side, where I couldn’t be seen.

The man in the Mini was Aiden Anderson.

My heart began to pump. Slowly I poked my head above the windowsill, still peeping through the blinds. It was definitely him – he was talking to someone on his mobile and he didn’t
look too happy.

Shit! I thought. How does he know where I live? Followed me again, I suppose!

I drew my mobile from my pocket and called Reece.

‘Evening,’ he said when he picked up. ‘What’s up?’

‘He’s watching me,’ I said in a low voice.

‘Who?’

‘Aiden Anderson! He’s sitting in a car parked over the road. It’s creeping me out!’

‘What?! Seriously?’

‘Do I sound like I’m joking? He was there yesterday too – well, the car was. I didn’t realize it was him. What could he possibly want?’

‘Calm down, Soph! You’re inside, you’re safe. Is Julie home?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, feeling slightly reassured. ‘Why’s he doing this, Reece? I thought it was over. He explained his story. I accepted it.’

‘D’you think he wants to talk to you?’

‘No! I just walked past – he could have called out or rung the doorbell or something. He’s just
watching
me.

‘Maybe stalking relatives of his ex-girlfriends is how he gets his kicks.’

‘Eww – don’t even go there! Seriously, what do I do?’

‘Call the police?’

As Reece spoke I heard the sound of an engine starting. I watched the Mini turn left at the junction and let out a long sigh.

‘He’s gone.’

‘Good. D’you think he’ll come back?’

I had no doubt the answer was yes.

‘Maybe I should talk to him next time,’ I said, feeling a bit calmer. ‘He can’t, like,
do
anything. This is a residential road – there are people about.

‘Doesn’t mean it’s safe. Bloke’s obviously a creep.
I’ll
talk to him.’

I could just see Reece marching up and demanding Aiden explain why he was playing stalker – in those exact words. ‘No, thanks,’ I said.

‘Did you get his registration?’

That hadn’t occurred to me. What an idiot! ‘No. It’s one of those new Minis though – a blue one.’

‘There was a scuffle from Reece’s end of the line. I wondered what he’d been up to – it didn’t sound like he was out with friends or anything. ‘Sophie . . .
are you scared?’

‘Isn’t that obvious?!’ I snapped. When there was a silence, I sighed and sat on my bed, lying back on the pillows. ‘I just don’t understand. I thought this was
over
.’

‘Perhaps we should drop in on DI Perry. If I was him, I’d be pretty interested in this.’

‘He’ll tell me I imagined it! The police aren’t interested, Reece.’

‘How about you stay round mine a couple days? Aiden won’t find you here. We’ll work out what to do next. Maybe we can hack into his Facebook account or something.’ He
cleared his throat. ‘This is of course assuming that you don’t find the idea of hanging out with me too repellent.’

I hesitated. ‘Can’t see your mum agreeing.’

‘It’s my house too. It’s not like we don’t have space.’

‘OK,’ I said after a moment. Staying at Reece’s wouldn’t solve the problem – but it was something . . .

When I told Julie the next day that I was going to stay over at Reece’s, she was fine so long as Effie was there. I wondered if that meant she didn’t trust us
without adult supervision. She didn’t comment about us suddenly being friends again though, for which I was thankful.

Effie was less than pleased. When I arrived at Reece’s that afternoon she came out into the hall and eyed my rucksack with a sour kind of look. I’d hardly packed much – just
clothes, toiletries, Edith, some sewing I was working on – but from the way she acted you’d think I was moving in. She started having a go at Reece as I was unpacking in the guest room,
which had an en-suite bathroom and was really spacious, with a double bed and a packed bookshelf. It smelt strongly of vanilla air freshener.