‘But they can’tforceyou to go. Maybe if you tell them you have to stay here for school. I could ask my parents if you could come and live with us.’ We exchanged a look that at any other time would have made us laugh. I didn’t think either of us could see my dad ever agreeing to that one. But I was clutching at straws, feeling the razor-like sting of their sharp edges as they slipped through my fingers.
‘The only other option I’d have would be to go back into the foster system, and I can’t do that again, Lily. I just can’t.’
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, because I knew that was too much to ask of anyone, especially him. I’d seen the changes in Josh since he’d come to live with Gordon and Janette. He was calmer now, less rebellious, and more settled and at peace than he’d ever been before. The Bakers were more thanjust long-term foster parents; they were his family now. Of course he wouldn’t want to leave them. And yet, selfishly, part of me had secretly hoped he wouldn’t want to leave me either.
The six weeks had flown by. After that first day we’d scarcely spoken about him leaving. Like a pair of ostriches, we’d buried our heads in the sand, hoping that somehow it wouldn’t happen.
But now the moment I’d been dreading had finally come.
Over the last weeks we’d spent more time on the sycamore-tree platform than we had in years. Admittedly there was much less space for us now, with our gangly teenage limbs and Josh’s broad shoulders. It meant we had to sit much closer together, shoulder to shoulder, thigh against thigh. Not that I was complaining.
I’m not sure which one of us had suggested it might be easier if we said our final goodbye in the tree.
‘I don’t think I could stand there on the pavement with everyone else, waving you off,’ I’d told him. ‘It’d be too sad, like a scene from a movie.’
Josh seemed to consider my words for a moment and then slowly nodded. ‘Okay. I get that.’
I held my breath as I waited for him to look up from the piece of wood he was currently carving with his ever-present penknife.
‘I wouldn’t want you to see me cry.’
He laid down whatever it was he was whittling, and his dark brown eyes met mine.
‘Would you cry?’
I swallowed, and the sound resembled a gulp. ‘Of course I would. I’m going to be really sad when you’re gone. I ... I’m really going to miss you.’
He chewed on his lip as though trying to prevent the words from escaping.
‘Gonna miss you too. You’ve been a good mate.’
Do not cry. Do not let him see you cry, especially not in this tree where you’ve shared so many happy moments. If you must be sad, do it later. That’s when your tears can fall.Just in case the pep talk didn’t work, I bit down hard on my inner cheek until I tasted blood on my tongue.
‘We can keep in touch on MSN and maybe even write to each other – that’d be retro,’ I said hopefully.
Josh shook his head. ‘I’ve never been very good at keeping in touch.’
Before he’d come to live with the Bakers, there had been a succession of temporary homes with impermanent family and friends in Josh’s life who he was forever having to leave behind. But surely this time it was different?
He must have seen something flash across my features because he put down his penknife and reached over to squeeze my hand.
‘But I guess I could try.’
He left the sycamore tree before me. ‘I’ve still got some packing up to do.’
I nodded sadly but made no move to follow him. ‘I think I’ll just stay up here for a bit longer.’
Josh swung easily off the platform, a manoeuvre I’d seen him do a thousand times before. He moved with a fluid grace, like he was made from mercury instead of flesh and bone. He began to descend the tree, his trainers instinctively finding the footholds Gordon had hammered into the sycamore’s trunk. His head had almost disappeared from sight when he paused, and then cleared his throat awkwardly. I looked up.
‘I’m going to really miss you too, Lily.’
‘Not coming out to wave the Bakers off?’ Mum had asked that morning, when I finally finished pushing my uneaten breakfast from one side of the plate to the other.
‘I don’t think so,’ I said, getting up from the table and scraping the wasted food into the pedal bin.
‘I thought you and that Josh lad were as thick as thieves. I felt sure you’d want to say goodbye to them,’ my father said, lowering his newspaper with unusual curiosity.
I could feel my eyes begin to sting, and looked down at my bare legs, bronzed from a summer spent outdoors, rather than meet his gaze.
