“There’s. Nothing. To. Tell.” Sophie took advantage of Mum’s back being turned and unlocked her phone on her lap.
“You were gone long enough for me to watch four episodes of The Good Wife and give myself a pedicure.” Her voice rose over the sound of the hot tap on full blast before she dialled everything down a little. “And yet you went to a party and did ‘nothing’?”
Sophie didn’t have a comeback for that, too busy scrolling through the conversations she’d missed the night before, head too full of Freya to make room for anyone else.
Mum was still talking. “Look. I know all this is hard for you…”
Sophie made subtle little “yap-yap-yap” hand puppet motions under the table at Woof, who was sitting on the chair next to her, and paid Sophie about as much attention as she was paying Mum. There was something on here about Georgia and Ewan…
“Sophie Eleanor Charbonneau – I am talking to you.”
“I’m listening!”
“You are not listening, you are looking at that bloody phone.”
“With my eyes. I can still hear you.”
“What did I say then?”
Sophie looked up, caught in a lie. “You said it was hard.”
Mum narrowed her eyes. “What’s hard?”
Crap. Something about lupus. Or revision. Possibly both.
“My … life?”
Wrong answer. Mum threw her hands up, spraying the air with suds.
“See what I mean? You’re never here. I was saying that I understand it must have been hard going to a party without Freya, but you’ve got to start focussing on the people who are here for you—” Sophie made the mistake of glancing down at her phone. “Stop checking your phone.”
“God. Make up your mind!” Sophie yelled back, the anger that simmered under her skin reaching boiling point faster than she was expecting. Her temper wasn’t any better than her body at recovering overnight. “You literally just told me to focus on my friends.”
Mum sighed so aggressively Sophie felt the force of it from across the room. She spoke with her eyes closed, voice low and dangerous.
“You know for a fact that is not what I meant.” Mum’s eyes snapped open and Sophie realised then that she was for it. “I am sick of trying to talk to someone who’s too busy scrolling through Instagram to hear a word I say. I’ve tried to be patient with you about this, but you insist on testing me.”
“How am I testing you?” She didn’t know why she was doing this, why she wanted to push her mum this far, but she couldn’t stop the words from coming. “You give me the most disgusting breakfast ever even though you know I find it hard to eat, badger me about staying out when I came home early and now you’re angry that I’m trying to find gossip from the party that you asked me about!”
“That’s enough.” Mum crossed the kitchen, slippers slapping on the flagstones loud enough to stir Woof from his slumber. She held her hand out across the table. “You’re not leaving the house this weekend. And I’m confiscating your phone.”
WIN
Win woke early and angry. Reading Freya’s letter before she went to bed had been a mistake, her words permeating Win’s dreams and giving them that slightly-too-real vibe that made them feel more vivid, more threatening.
Dozing wasn’t possible and when she picked up her phone, she found she didn’t feel like messaging anyone.
So she did what she’d done after every exam last year, when her brain was too busy running over the paper she’d just done to think about revising for the next. Win dressed in shorts and a vest, spooned out a bowl of congee from the slow cooker – hiding it in the microwave in case Sunny rose early and ate it all like she had last Sunday – and called out to the garden to let her parents know she’d be back in an hour. Then, slipping her running trainers on by the door, Win stepped out into the morning, ready to chase away the stress of the day before.
SOPHIE
Whenever Sophie hadn’t wanted to be in her own house, she’d gone to Freya’s.
A bus across town and a short walk up streets lined with cookie-cutter houses and little snooker-table lawns. Freya’s was at the end, everything about it the same as ever, from the hanging basket by the front door to the car parked on the drive.
But no Freya. Not that it mattered. Freya wasn’t the person Sophie had come to see.
The bell chimed inside the house, followed a moment later by footfalls on the stairs. Sophie hoped it was Win. Sunny would be too much and this was a weird way to meet someone’s parents.
When the door opened, Sophie’s eyes settled on the feet of the person behind it. White trainer socks, slim calves and strong thighs leading to a pair of running shorts and a ribbed vest. Above the neckline, Win’s chest was flushed and there was a sheen of sweat on her skin. She wiped her wrist across her face, leaving her fringe spiked up and uneven, and rested her hand on the doorframe, eyebrows sweeping up a moment before she spoke.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Sophie didn’t know what words came next. Win wasn’t Freya.
“No deliveries today?” Win’s eyes dipped down to where Sophie’s bag hung at her hip. It looked like a Jammie Dodger and all it contained was her second dose of naproxen, some emergency paracetamol, a travel-sized sun cream and her purse. Also a tampon. Just in case.
“No,” Sophie said.
“Good.” Win pushed the door wider. “Do you want to come in?” Although before Sophie got any further than the mat, she added, “We’re a no-shoes kind of house – although there’s hotel slippers if you want?”
“No. It’s fine.” Sophie put a toe to the back of her slip-ons and tucked them next to Win’s Converse. Red checks next to faded grey.
Stepping into the hall was like swigging a mouthful of coffee when Sophie had expected tea. The walls were papered a soft pink, the colour of a shell washed through a thousand million times by the sea, the carpet a dated shade of blush that felt as thick and luxurious as if it had been laid yesterday.
Nothing like the cold blue walls and wood floors of next— no.
No Freya. Not now.
“Shouldn’t you be revising?” Win had stopped in the middle of the hall, like she didn’t quite know where to go next. Sophie had clearly caught her in those few moments between working up a sweat and washing it off.
“I absolutely should be doing that. Mais je vais faire les tenses francaise demain.”
“I did German.”
“And Mandarin.”
Win’s eyes sparkled and her lips curved up at the corners. “And Mandarin.”
Just then someone bustled in from the kitchen, flipping a tea towel over her shoulder. Same height as Win, slender like her sister.
“Who was at the door?” The woman’s eyes alighted on Sophie as Win said, “Mama, this is Sophie.”
“Hi Mrs Su.”
Win’s mum smiled like her youngest – wide and unselfconscious.
“Nice to meet one of Winnie’s friends,” she said to Sophie. “Let me get you something – a drink? Something to eat?”