Oh God, the receptionist had opened the door and was moving down the side of the hall as all the clapping was happening. I looked nervously over at Amy, biting my lip. Her eyes were rounded in her head, startled, and I chose that moment to try to melt away into the back of the stage, tripping over the microphone lead on my way to safety.
I stayed back there, frozen, as I watched the pupils all stand up and make their way out, jostling, bumping, pulling out mobiles. Amy had got up from her chair and was making her way towards me, pausing as another teacher stopped her with a tap on her arm. Her eyes darted to me and back as she spoke quickly to him, nodding frantically.
‘What the actual fuck are you doing?’ Amy hissed as she approached, a smile plastered on her face as pupils padded past the bottom of the stage near us.
With both my palms up I took a step forward. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I—’
One of the pupils had broken free from the pack and had ventured up the small set of stairs towards us, lingering as we spoke. We couldn’t really ignore her.
‘Are you all right, Cassie?’ Amy turned and plastered a helpful smile on her face. Only I could recognise the wobble in her voice.
A serious-looking girl in a headband clutching a lever arch folder to her chest motioned to me. ‘I wanted to ask her whether doing Gold D of E would contribute to my UCAS points.’ The girl stood looking at me for an answer.
‘Oh, I, um, I . . . ’ I licked my lips and tried to remember to blink as I rooted around for an answer.
‘Do you know what, Cassie,’ Amy said, ‘I’ll get all the information you need and let you know, all right?’
Cassie looked mildly put out, adjusted the lever arch folder and sloped away. ‘’K.’
‘Thanks,’ I breathed out, a small, nervous giggle escaping. This almost felt like the old days. Amy and I against the world. Except for the expression on her face, which didn’t seem particularly friendly, rather frosty in fact.
‘Seriously, Lottie, what just happened? What are you doing? Have you lost it?’ Amy drew a hand through her hair before pulling me to one side.
‘I’m sorry. I’m not sure how it happened. I came here to talk to you. You didn’t answer your phone,’ I started.
‘This is so not a normal response to that,’ Amy fumed. ‘When people don’t answer they don’t want to talk to you, Lottie. You don’t turn up to their place of work and pretend to work for the Duke of Edinburgh scheme and run assembly for seven hundred pupils.’
‘Seven hundred? It felt like more,’ I said weakly.
Amy didn’t smile.
‘The thing is, I desperately wanted to see you, to make up for everything. I’ve been so crap and useless and I know you love a PowerPoint. So I made you one about our friendship.’ I scrambled in my bag and drew out the memory stick I had refused to hand over earlier to the bearded technician. It hovered in the space between us.
Amy stalked past me, into the space behind the thick stage curtains, the memory stick falling from my hand as I went to follow her.
‘Amy?’
She turned, her face largely in shadow. There were dusty benches behind her, props dotted about: a plastic crown, a skull, two coat stands, a faded chaise longue. She began to speak, her mouth pursed tight. ‘This is what’s going to happen, Lottie. You are going to leave, quickly and quietly, no more talking to pupils about UCAS points or trying to set up a new circus skills hour as an after-school activity etc. I am going to fix this shitty mess that you’ve made, God knows how.’ She raked a hand through her hair. ‘And try to ensure my boss doesn’t think the whole school needs to reassess our security procedures to stop fucking lunatics prancing into our school assemblies.’
She sounded mad: her voice was really low and I couldn’t meet her eye as she talked. If this was the treatment her sixth formers got I felt my heart go out to them. Nothing was worse this. Nodding frantically I allowed her to lead me through a back corridor, down a small set of stairs and skirt the building so that I found myself back by the security gate that led to the reception. Amy opened the gate for me.
‘Amy, honestly, I’m so sorry . . . I honestly don’t—’
Amy held up a hand, shaking her head from side to side. ‘Don’t, Lottie, don’t make this any worse. I haven’t got time, I need to get back and fix this. Just go, please, just leave.’
Feeling tears sting my eyes for about the eighteenth time that week I backed off, stumbling back up the path and out into the busy London street. I rested my back against the wall of the school. God, what had I done, I thought, head in my hands as I replayed my visit. Why was I intent on hurting everyone closest to me? Shivering in the shade of the wall I thought back to her dead eyes, her cold voice. Amy didn’t deserve this and I had just made a bad situation a hundred times worse. Hands drooping at my sides I sloped away, feeling desperately alone and knowing it was all my fault.
Darling Cora,
It has become a bit of a habit for Arjun and I to head to the pub on the corner after hospital visits. He has changed his mind about treatment and this latest appointment was finalising his course of chemotherapy. He was warned of the side effects and we both knew enough people who had suffered through the gruelling treatment to be depressed as we left the hospital car park.
‘You’ll have to tell the others now,’ I said.
Arjun was peering gloomily into his half pint of ale. ‘I know.’ He picked up the glass and sipped at it. ‘Even Howard might notice if all my hair falls out.’
I tried to laugh but only a thin smile was roused.
‘I just wanted a few more days and weeks without pity, or talking about the treatment, or hearing other uplifting stories about people who had battled cancer, as if it will all end well if only you are determined enough . . . ’
It was the first time I had seen him angry, raging at the disease, and I gripped my own glass. I understood.
‘Launching the app, that seems so much more important now: something to do, to focus on, something really positive.’
Nodding, I felt relief at the change of subject. We were on safer ground here. Selfishly I did not want to think too much about Arjun’s prospects. I couldn’t contemplate it really: it hurt. Am I a coward, Cora, for not saying more? You, of course, wouldn’t have let him off the hook that easily, but then you would have made it better, not worse; comforting rather than awkward.
‘Luke will be here soon,’ Arjun said, wiping at the watermark on the table. ‘And Storm emailed me with mock-ups of the new title page.’
‘You know I don’t know what mock-ups are?’
‘Of course!’ Arjun said brightly. ‘But even you should be able to navigate the app. It’s simple. It’s straightforward. You type in your postcode and choose a radius and then bam!’ His eyes were dancing now, his black hair gleaming under the pub lights as he twisted in his seat to look at the door. ‘They should be here soon.’
As if he conjured them, Luke appeared, holding the door open for Storm, who was wearing an extraordinary skirt like an adult tutu and an oversized bow in her red hair. Now, I don’t want to be mean, Cora, but really, how could Lottie be threatened by this human version of Minnie Mouse? I could feel my eyes narrowing as she placed a playful hand on his chest. Arjun didn’t notice as he got up to greet them both: shaking hands, taking their drinks order.