Pretty Twisted (26 page)

‘You had me.’

I glared at her. ‘You never have time for me any more – far too busy! We don’t even talk about Mum now. It’s like she never mattered.’

‘Don’t you dare say that!’

‘It’s true, isn’t it?’

‘No, it’s total crap! You hide what you feel all the time, Ros, and yet you don’t seem to understand that other people do too. I started my period a month after Mum walked out. To most people that’s a mother–daughter event. But I had to go out and buy sanitary towels myself and I didn’t even have my mates’ help because I was the first. At least you’ve had me to explain things like that.’

Feeling a bit guilty, I mumbled, ‘I never knew.’

‘Of course Mum meant something to me. Don’t be thick.’

I shrugged, glancing up at the ceiling. The Great Britain-shaped stain was still there – I wondered if Dad ever would get round to painting over it. ‘It’s not much fun round here any more.’

‘I know. And I think you’ve been bottling your feelings up too much,’ she said softly.

‘I told Jonathan how I felt. He was good at making me see things for what they were.’

‘You can talk to me. I’m not always here, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for you.’

I glanced up at her, trying to remember if Olivia had ever been this gentle before.

She gave me a half-smile. ‘I do love you, you know.’

‘Yeah. And I love you. I know you don’t mean it when you call me a weirdo.’

‘Well, most of the time,’ she said, and that made both of us laugh.

When Olivia left, I logged on to MyPlace and deleted Jonathan from my contacts list.

Jonathan

Tuesday 28 October, 8.00 p.m.

On the train home I sat with my feet on the seat and my knees up to my chest and leaned my head against the window. Things were taking a while to sink in. My mind should be on Freya – or the fact that I’d helped stop a coldblooded murderer in his tracks – but instead I found myself thinking about Ros.

I had every right to be furious with her. She’d stalked my girlfriend, told me a bunch of lies and withheld information from the police when she knew how worried everyone was. And she did it because she ‘loved’ me. Call me naive, but I’d never really thought there was an ulterior motive behind her helping me out – it just felt natural. Now I knew why she’d bunked off school and sat up into the early hours chatting. I’d never meant to give her ideas – but I guessed she couldn’t help how she felt. After all, I knew what it was like to love someone who didn’t feel the same way.

It made sense. But whether I felt like forgiving Ros or not, I wasn’t sure.

Mum and Dad picked me up from the station. They looked tired but they smiled as I got in the van and said how glad they were to see me safe. Back home, after a big bowl of pasta, we sat in front of the fire and they asked me to explain how I knew where Freya was. There was no way to do this quickly so I told them everything – almost everything, anyway. When I was done, Dad shook his head.

‘Beggars belief, all of this. Anyone want tea?’

I watched him go through to the kitchen. ‘I got wound up in a murder inquiry and that’s all he’s going to say?’

‘You know the way your father’s mind works,’ Mum said. ‘All of these to-and-fros from London have probably lost him.’ She paused. ‘So . . . your friend Rosalind. Any idea why she followed Freya about London? That’s the only part that doesn’t make sense to me. Unless . . .’

The gleam in her eye was back.

I went red. ‘Shut up, Mum.’

I half-expected her to say something about Ros’s age, but she did as I said. Deciding to change the subject quickly, I crossed the room and sat beside her on the couch. ‘Mum . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘Sorry I’ve been a pain. I’ve mucked you and Dad about lately, and some of the time it wasn’t fair.’

‘I’m glad you realize that. Just let us know where you are and who you’re with in future, all right?’

I nodded. ‘And Mum . . .’ I took a breath. ‘About the music. I – I’m sorry I got so angry with you and Dad about it . . . but you didn’t seem to understand how important it is to me. I might not be the best, but it’s what I want.’

Mum nodded. She didn’t seem surprised. ‘Jonathan . . . your Dad and I have been talking. I think we owe you an apology too. You’re right – we did push you a bit, but we never wanted you to be unhappy. So we’ve come up with an idea. Is it too late for you to change your subjects?’

I blinked. This I hadn’t expected. ‘What, drop something and take music instead?’

She nodded. ‘You could switch further maths for music. If it’s not too late, that is.’

‘Don’t think so. I mean, we’re only half a term into the academic year.’

‘I know an A level isn’t quite music school, but it keeps music open if you decide that’s where you want to be after college.’

‘You’d really support me in this?’

‘Jonathan, these are your A levels, not ours. I want you to be happy at college – and if music will make you happy, you have to do it.’ She smiled. ‘And you know, your dad and I will always back you, whatever you decide to do’

I felt elated. What a mess this whole thing had been – but if this had come out of it . . . ‘I’ll talk to my tutor after half-term. Thanks, Mum.’

Moira and Owen came over the next day. I thought they’d just come to say thank you when Mum called me down, but Freya was with them.

‘Freya has something she wants to say,’ Moira said, giving Freya the sternest look ever – clearly relief at having her daughter safe had worn off already. Freya shifted on her feet. For the first time I could remember, she looked awkward.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I never meant to make anyone worry.’

‘She’s promised to think more in future, so nothing like this will ever happen again,’ Moira said briskly, and then started talking to Mum and Dad.

Freya looked at me. ‘Can I have a word, Jonny?’

We went through into the next room, closing the door behind us. It was almost like old times, the two of us, here in my house, and for a moment I allowed myself to fantasize that she was about to take me back.

‘What?’ I asked, suddenly realizing I didn’t want that.

Freya circled her foot on the floor, not looking at me. ‘I feel awful about you getting into trouble with the police.’

I shrugged.

‘Jonny, I know you’re mad at me and I probably deserve it, but I never meant for this to get so messy. You’ll call me stupid, and maybe I am, but I didn’t realize people would go searching for me. I don’t know if you’ll understand, but while I was with Hugh I just stopped thinking straight.’

I did understand. Sometimes you meet someone so blinding, so enticing, that you lose all judgement and reason. For Freya, that’s Hugh. For me, it was Freya. And I guess for Ros, it’s me.

‘And I’m sorry I broke up with you in such a bad way. I hope you’re not going to hate me forever.’ Freya was looking at me like a little girl who’d been caught stealing chocolate.

I knew what she wanted, but she wasn’t getting it. For once I was calling the shots. ‘You’ve apologized; you prefer a penniless photographer over an aspiring rock star, fine, great. Now, is there anything else you need to say? I’m actually really busy today.’

‘You’re different.’ She frowned at me, tipping her head. A strand of hair fell out of its clip and on to her shoulder. For a moment I felt a pang, remembering the early days, when Freya and her crazy hair were the most fascinating things in the world. ‘Don’t know how, but you are.’

‘Well, thanks for the almost profound observation, Freya. See you round, OK?’

In my room I picked up my guitar and started to strum, thinking about Freya. I guessed a little part of me was still in love with her, but mostly I was relieved I knew where I was, even if it hurt – actually, that might make a good story for a song, if I could get some words down to go with the melody I’d just started to pick out. I grabbed my notebook. Two hours later I had three verses and a chorus and I was excited, yes, excited about music again. I’d thought I couldn’t write without Freya, but I’d been wrong. The inspiration and the words were in me – it had just taken a long time to realize it.

On Monday students mobbed me on the zombie bus. Everyone had heard about Freya and the case and wanted to know all the details. I wasn’t sure I liked being the centre of attention, so at lunchtime I hid in the computer labs. But I wasn’t alone for long – Lucy came in. I sighed.

‘Look, Lucy . . .’

‘If you want to get away from all the questions, a bunch of us are playing card games in Room 4.’ She didn’t look at me as she said this. ‘Welcome to join us if you want to.’

Now I came to think of it, Lucy had been the only one who hadn’t pestered me on the bus. It must have taken guts to come here after I brushed her off last time. She was actually OK, Lucy.

‘I might do that. Thanks.’

There was another surprise awaiting me when I stepped into my form room. Right at the back of my pigeonhole was the missing ticket for the college disco night. Evidently I’d just missed it before – and it looked like the person who’d put it there had accidentally given me an extra drinks voucher too. I had to smile at that. While life wasn’t great, it seems it wasn’t quite as empty as I thought.

Rosalind

Friday 12 December, 3.00 p.m.

It started to snow during double art. I had a seat by the window and as I watched a white carpet form across the playground, I thought about the phone call I’d received yesterday. The teacher must have noticed I wasn’t paying attention, but she didn’t tick me off. The project I was working on – portraits inspired by retro clothing – was going well; I’d done a lot of research outside school. When people asked what had inspired it, I just shrugged.

I was no nearer to making a decision about the phone call by the time class ended. As we walked out of the main doors Abby asked, ‘Do you want to come over tonight?’

‘Maybe after I take the dog out.’ Something caught my eye. A figure was standing over on the other side of the road, looking lost in the rush of students, and rather cold, because he wasn’t wearing a coat.

‘Quick.’ I grabbed Abby’s arm.

But he’d spotted me; he was walking over. I stood still, keeping my face as blank as I could. When he was in earshot, I said, ‘Hello.’

Jonathan gave an awkward-looking smile. ‘Hi. I feel stupid. It was quite warm when I left.’

‘Ros,’ said Abby, ‘I’m off now. Text me later.’

‘You can’t just go—’ But it was too late; she had.

Jonathan drew a breath. ‘I owe you an apology. Look, do you have time to talk?’

‘What’s there to say? I know what you think. You said so.’ And I knew he’d meant it too.

Jonathan looked unhappy. He took his hand from his pocket and fiddled with his glasses.

‘Look, Ros . . . I don’t fancy you. Sorry, but that’s the way it is. It’s got nothing to do with the way you look and it’s not because I don’t like you, either, cos I do. A lot.’ He gave me that lopsided smile. ‘I miss you. I’d like to be friends again, if you’re up for it.’

Over the weeks, I’d thought about Jonathan a lot. I’d come to realize there were two ways I could go from where I was. One was to mope about feeling hurt and rejected, and the other was to get on with things. And, being sensible as usual, I’d chosen the second. I could see now that I’d expected too much from him and hoped too hard. I was always going to be disappointed. Knowing this didn’t stop me wishing things had been different, of course.

‘What about what I did?’ I mumbled. ‘I’m not proud of that.’

‘Yeah, you made some bad choices and I was mad at you for a while. But I’ve been thinking things over and I’m not proud of how I acted either. I was a mopey pain in the arse who couldn’t see what was going on under his nose, and I’m surprised you put up with me. People screw up, Ros; we both have, but I don’t see the point in griping about it two months on. Far as I’m concerned, past is past. Right?’

I thought about this, and nodded. ‘Right.’

‘You know something? Sounds corny, and it’s embarrassing to admit . . . but since I was tiny, I wanted a little sister.’

I drew patterns on the pavement with my foot. I wished I could say something about wanting a big brother, so everything could be all right, but I couldn’t quite manage it.

When I didn’t answer Jonathan said, ‘I’ve seen London. You should visit Norwich – it’s a great city. I can show you round. It’ll be fun.’

I gave him a long look. ‘Won’t you be embarrassed about being seen with a kid?’

‘You can say you’re my cousin or something. I’m not bothered. Course, you could just tell the truth and say you’re my friend.’

I decided I might well do that. I’d told enough lies to last me a long time. ‘OK. Maybe I will.’

‘Friends again?’

I couldn’t help smiling. ‘Yeah, I guess we are.’

We started to walk along the road. It felt a little funny to be with Jonathan again, but not as weird as I’d expected.

‘How have you been getting on?’ I asked.