‘Sorry, just…’ I point at his tree, shining satiny white in the darkness.
‘Oh. I know. It’s grown so much.’
‘I can’t believe you got a tattoo of one.’ The tree inked onto his arm is a silver birch.
He nods. ‘After all that fuss about the tree ceremony, turns out I wanted to keep part of it with me when I left.’
‘We still haven’t talked about that,’ I say quietly.
His leaving.
‘I know.’ He sighs. ‘You haven’t asked.’
‘I think I’m asking now.’
Alcohol has lowered my defences.
George pulls on the handbrake and turns off the ignition. His headlights cut out and the night engulfs our view. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Where did you go?’ When you ran away…
‘Leeds first, to Sophie’s foster family’s house. But I was too late: she’d already left for Devon.’
That was where he’d learned her adoptive family came from.
‘How did you get to Leeds?’ I’ve always wondered.
‘I climbed into a car boot up at Brimham Rocks when some people were leaving. They had a Leeds United sticker on the window, so I hoped they were heading there. Unfortunately, they went to a tiny village somewhere on the East coast, and then I got stuck in the boot and no one heard me banging until the next morning.’
I can scarcely believe what I’m hearing. ‘You could have died!’
‘I was in a state, Leah. I wasn’t thinking.’
‘How did you get to Leeds from there?’ I hardly dare ask.
He sighs. ‘Well, I didn’t have any money on me, so to start with I walked and tried to hitchhike, but when no one picked me up, I’m afraid I broke into a house and stole a wallet from a sideboard.’
He notes my shocked reaction and averts his gaze. I don’t think he can bring himself to look at me.
‘What if you’d been arrested?!’
‘Like I told you, I wasn’t thinking.’ He sounds morose. ‘I was single-mindedly trying to get to Sophie. But when I got there – train, in the end – she’d already left. I had just enough money for a ticket to Devon, so I headed straight there.’
It’s traumatising to think of fifteen-year-old George going through all that.
‘Why did you leave us so suddenly? It’s something I’ve never understood. You didn’t take clothes or money or anything.’
He didn’t even take his iPod – I could’ve listened to his songs till my ears bled. I probably would have, but one day it simply stopped working.
‘Don’t try to make sense of it,’ he mutters.
The car falls silent. But there’s still so much I want to know.
‘What did you do when you got to Devon?’
‘I got a job washing dishes at an Indian restaurant in Dartmouth. The owner took pity on me and let me sleep in a back room. He kept me off the streets. Over time, I scoured the county, but never found her.’
‘You didn’t go back into the system?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nah, I was done with that.’
‘Did you stay in Devon?’
He nods. ‘Then one day I saw that article about your parents and their so-called “Foster Farm”. Stumbled across it online.’
‘You wrote to my parents…’
‘And they replied.’
‘They replied? How did they get your address?’
‘I wrote it on the back of the envelope.’
I feel as though I’ve been winded. I didn’t think to ask my parents if George had included his personal details – the card only had his message. I can’t believe that, by default, he’s been in my life for the past two years.
Not that I would have had the emotional strength then to face that fact.
‘Did you write to them again?’ I ask.
‘A couple of times.’
‘And you never asked them for my address?’
And they never mentioned it?
No wonder he seemed so familiar with Mum at the funeral.
‘Leah, I’m sorry,’ he says in a gruff voice. ‘I asked after you and your mam told me what had happened to Theo. I wanted to contact you, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.’
‘What made you think that?’ I realise I’m raising my voice, but I can’t help it.
‘After the way I left.’ He sounds frustrated. ‘And when you and Theo became a thing… I don’t know, I thought you’d moved on; you wouldn’t want a blast from the past.’
‘Wait. When are you talking about? When Theo and I became a “thing”, as you put it?’
He looks out of his window at the night beyond.
‘George.’
‘I kept tabs on you,’ he reluctantly admits.
‘What do you mean?’
‘This is going to sound stalkery.’ He hesitates before confessing: ‘I friended Becky on Facebook.’
‘You what?!’ I turn to face him.
He rakes his hand through his curls, looking uncomfortable. ‘Not under my real name. I created a fake profile.’
‘Why didn’t you friend me?’ I squawk.
‘I didn’t want you to know it was me, and you would’ve seen through it. Becky used to say yes to everyone.’
It’s true, she did.
He sighs. ‘I knew that you and Theo went to London together. It was obvious that you guys were happy. And at some point, I had to let you go and move on myself. So I deleted my account.’
A lump swells in my throat. The thought of him checking up on Theo and me hurts. The thought of him deciding not to reach out to us hurts. It hurts because I know he was hurting.
‘I wish you’d got in contact.’
He doesn’t comment.
I brush away a stray tear.
‘When you say you moved on… Were you happy?’ Did you meet someone else?
‘Yeah, sort of.’ He casts me a small smile and then his face falls. ‘Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he says huskily, reaching out with his hand before retracting it. He folds his arms across his chest instead of touching me and I ache for the missed contact.
‘Why did you come back now?’
The silence stretches on. He’s staring straight ahead. The trees are cut-out shapes in the starry sky.
I wait, and finally it comes: ‘I guess I felt as though there was unfinished business.’
‘Unfinished business?’
‘I wanted to tie up some loose ends.’ He glances at me again, his dark eyes glinting in the moonlight. ‘I tried to move on. I didn’t say I succeeded.’
‘Do you— Did you— Is there anyone else in your life?’
‘A girlfriend, you mean? No. Not anymore.’
‘Was it— Was it serious? Did you break up recently?’ Why can’t I speak properly?
‘About six months ago.’
He hasn’t answered the first part of my question.
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know, Leah. This is probably a conversation for another time.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ I say with embarrassment. ‘Yes, you’re right. It’s late.’ I pick up my bag from the floor. ‘Ta for the lift.’