For your sake?whispers a naïve, hopeful voice in my head. No. No, no, no. I can’t think that. The whole world doesn’t revolve around me. Charlie made a decision and it’s nothing to do with me. Jeez, it’s all so confusing.
‘He’s at the bakery, I think,’ Emma says, just as I’m wondering where he is. It’s almost creepy how well she knows me. ‘But please wrap up warm.’
SINCLAIR
Dad didn’t ask any questions when I offered to do a few extra shifts at the bakery even though I’d already worked the weekend. I think he understands that the bake room is the only place I can find peace just now. Quiet – just me and the dough, which doesn’t look reproachfully at me, or start whispering the moment my back’s turned. Like the rest of the drama club, or indeed the whole school, now that the news is out that I chucked everything away.
I’d hoped to feel more relief. I’m rid of the role and all my problems with it, aren’t I?
Of course not, because – sadly – I care way more about what happens to the play than I’d like. Besides, I’m scared of how Tori will react when she hears about it. Mum says she’s doing better and she’ll be able to leave the sick bay soon, which, on the one hand, is a relief and, on the other, sends me into a blind panic. Because it means I’ll have to talk to her. Have a conversation I’ve run through so often in my head in the last few weeks that there’s no way I can screw it up now. Unless, of course, Tori departs from my imaginary script.
I’ve just put the dishwasher on and I’m wiping down the work surfaces when I hear the knock. Four quick taps in succession. But even so, God knows why, it never occurs to me that it might be Tori. Maybe because she’s ill and the rainy streets of Ebrington are the last place she should be.
My heart skips a beat as I see her out there. I hurry to open the door.
‘What the . . .’ I start as she comes in.
‘Hi,’ she says.
We’re standing face to face and I’d forgotten how beautiful she is. It’s only a week since we saw each other but it feels like a lifetime.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask slowly.
Tori shrugs her shoulders. Her pale skin looks almost like porcelain. Even her freckles seem paler. The rings under her eyes make her look tired and her cheekbones are more prominent. She looks knackered. Like someone who should be in bed with tea and a hot-water bottle, not standing here with me. ‘Are you out of your mind?’ I step towards her. ‘You’re meant to be in the sick bay, not—’
‘Dr Henderson let me out,’ she says. Her voice sounds scratchy. I want to take her in my arms and never let her go.
‘When?’
‘This afternoon.’
‘And does he know you’re here?’
‘I don’t see what business that is of his,’ she retorts.
‘Because you should be resting,’ I snap at her.Because the last time you stood next to me, you just keeled over and since then I’ve been feeling like I can’t breathe.Is that really so hard to understand?
‘I can take perfectly good care of myself, thank you very much.’ She sounds irritable, which is probably a good sign. But I don’t want to argue.
‘How are you?’ I ask quietly.
The antagonism vanishes from her eyes, making way for something soft, vulnerable. God, I’ve missed her. Not just because I haven’t seen her for a week. It’s felt like we’ve been drifting ever further apart for months now. I had a brief moment of hope after we kissed, but that just made everything even more complicated.
‘Better.’ Tori swallows. ‘I’m OK.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘You should be in bed, Tori,’ I insist, but she shakes her head.
‘And you should be on the stage.’
I freeze. And then I understand. She’s heard. Great. Of course she has. What did I expect? That she’d hear none of the school gossip from the sick bay? I should have known better.
‘Is that why you didn’t sign the card?’ she asks. ‘Or did you just not care?’
I open my mouth, but her question is so absurd I can’t even speak.
