surgery. Once we reach the pavement I ask him which way he’s going.
‘Back to the surgery, Feefs, where else?’
‘Okay, well, I’m going this way.’ I point in the opposite direction. ‘I’ll see you.’
‘See you later, Fifi. And remember, end of the month is D-Day.’
‘Yep.’ I make off in the opposite direction, relieved to have got our encounter out of the way.
I always keep a selection of salads in the fridge at work, but today I’m really craving carbs so I think I might treat myself to a cheese roll from Ida’s. As I approach the bakery, I see that there’s already quite a queue out the door. I recognise a few familiar faces in the queue so if I join them, I’ll have to make small talk. What am I even doing here? I should be back at the showroom getting on with my designs for the Carmichaels’ place. I can’t let the likes of Paul Barton and those tax inspectors put me off doing my job. I’m better than this. If I’m not careful, I’m going to drive myself out of business without the aid of anyone else.
I stop where I am and take a breath. I’m going to forget about the cheese roll. If I bump into Paul again, I’ll just tell him the truth – that I’m too busy to talk. That I have work to be getting on with. I’m fed up of being polite to the man. As I turn to head back to Salinger’s, I glance in through the bay window of Ida’s. Beyond the cake display, I spot Tia and Leo seated at one of the tables. They’re looking up, talking to someone. It’s Kelly. She hangs her bag over the back of the chair and sits down at their table. Looks like they’re all about to have lunch.
My chest constricts a little. I can’t help but immediately feel hurt that they didn’t ask me to join them. I know that’s silly – I often meet up with one of my friends without the other. Okay, maybe not Tia, but I do see Kelly a lot on her own. It’s just that Ida’s is less than a minute away from where I work. Would it have been so hard for Kelly to pop her head in and ask me to come along too? Unless they’re discussing something they don’t want me to know about… No. Screw it. I’m not having a good day. I need to see my friends. I’m going in to have lunch with them. If they don’t want me there, they can tell me to my face.
Fifteen
They’ve led her back to school. She thought it would be okay. Her friends sounded so adamant that this was the right thing to do. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she let them persuade her to come back. And now the stink of the place has caught in her throat and snaked its way into her mind. It’s crept beneath her clothes and infused her skin. She never knew that a smell could infect your whole body.
She’s shaking as she walks back down the warm corridor, her limbs soft, her brain soggy. Her friends are kind and soothing, but she can’t make sense of the words. They’re fading in and out of clarity. She catches fragments of comforting phrases interspersed with a hushed, frantic conversation.
‘It’s okay’ … ‘We’re nearly there’ … ‘She looks really pale’ … ‘Should we call her parents?’ … ‘I can’t believe it’ … ‘He might not even be there’ … ‘Horrendous’ … ‘Shhh.’
They stop outside a door. A quick glance up shows it’s the headmaster’s office. One of her friends clears her throat and knocks.
‘Come in!’ Mr Williams’ voice is brusque and authoritarian.
She wants to leave so badly now. To run back down the corridor and out of the main doors. To keep running forever. Instead, the headmaster’s door opens, and she walks in, her friends flanking her like armed guards.
They talk to Mr Williams while he gives quiet rumbling responses. He leaves the room for a short while before returning with Mrs Bonnington, the deputy head.
Mrs Bonnington ushers her over to a chair where she sits, mute.
Her friends explain what happened on her behalf. She told them what happened in great gushing detail. But now she never wants to speak of it again. She wishes the whole thing could be erased from her mind. But it’s lodged in there like a tick sucking out fresh blood