Brendan took a step back. ‘Thanks, Olivia.’ He swept his hand through his hair, suddenly looking a little worried. ‘But please don’t say anything to Ivy, OK?’
Olivia’s eyes flitted quickly in her sister’s direction. Ivy was staring at the pair of them with her head cocked. She was clearly getting the sense that something was up.
Olivia smiled sweetly, as if to say, Everything’s fine. Then she turned back to Brendan. ‘I promise. We’ll look out for each other whilst she’s away.’ She held out her pinky.
Brendan stared. ‘I’m not pinky swearing, Olivia. I’m a dude!’
Olivia lifted her eyebrows and jutted her chin, waiting.
‘Fine,’ said Brendan, letting his head hang in defeat. He locked pinkies with her and shook. ‘I promise too. Happy?’
‘Very.’ Olivia stepped up to the front of the line and rested her hand on the cool metal of the Meat and Greet counter, where a pale goth girl with a black apron was waiting with a pen and pad. ‘Two Dark Chocolate Delights and two Scrumptious Strawberry ice-cream cones, please.’
The girl smiled through dark-red lips and Olivia could just make out where the cashier’s dazzling white fangs had been filed. ‘Four cones, coming right up!’
While they waited, Olivia waved to Camilla, who was letting her actors ‘take five’. ‘It looks like the shoot’s going well,’ Olivia said, as her friend approached.
Camilla tucked a clipboard under her arm. ‘It is.’ She lowered her voice. ‘But it would be so much better with you and . . .’ Olivia felt her heart do a back-flip – and not a happy one. Not the J-word, not the J-word. Camilla opened her mouth and then closed it. ‘Um, yeah . . .’ Camilla cleared her throat, ‘with you in it.’
Olivia quickly fixed a big smile on her face. As if on cue, the cashier handed over four cones. Brendan took two, Olivia the other two. As she reached for them, she smiled at Camilla. ‘I hope the rest of the filming goes well,’ said Olivia, refusing to let her smile slip. ‘Sorry I can’t be here for it.’ I’m fine, she repeated. Totally fine.
If I keep telling myself that, perhaps one day I’ll believe it.
Ivy just did not get Chinese orchestral music. The low-pitched strings and relentless drums were anything but relaxing. Unfortunately that was what Olivia’s adoptive dad, Mr Abbott, insisted on listening to as he drove Olivia and Ivy to the airport before their long flight to Transylvania.
Mr Abbott hummed along with the CD. ‘It’s very Zen, don’t you think?’
More like very annoying, thought Ivy.
Horatio, her grandparents’ hulking butler, was squished between the girls in the back seat, his knees pulled up to his chest. His sleek black tuxedo jacket was stretched tight across his back and his suit trousers were hiked high above his ankles, revealing bright-red socks. Ivy’s grandparents had been summoned back to Transylvania to help prepare for the wedding, but they’d left Horatio behind to help the girls pack. ‘You really ought to have let one of us sit in the middle,’ said Olivia, her knees squashed against the door.
Horatio peered down his nose. ‘I would not hear of it, Miss Olivia. I am here, as always, to serve.’ Ivy snorted. Right now, Horatio was only serving to block the air conditioning!
Charles Vega, the twins’ bio-dad, was sitting up front next to Mr Abbott. ‘It’s very kind of you to drive us to the airport,’ he said. ‘We won’t forget this.’
Horatio shifted his weight in the back seat, hands fidgeting. He had repeatedly asked Olivia’s dad if he could drive, but Mr Abbott wouldn’t hear a word of it. Horatio hated anyone else being the chauffeur.
He hated anyone else doing any work.
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Mr Abbott, tapping the wheel in time to the drumbeats. ‘You all are extended family. And you know what they say: the strength of a nation derives from the integrity of the home.’ In the reflection of the rear-view mirror Ivy saw Mr Abbott’s eyebrows lift. ‘Can anyone name that quote?’
The twins looked at each other blankly.
‘Confucius,’ said Charles and Horatio in unison.
Mr Abbott nodded. ‘Impressive.’
Great. The next thing Ivy knew, her dad would be practising yoga on the front lawn too. She leaned forwards, trying to get Olivia’s attention – someone who could share her pain – but Olivia’s chin rested on her fist as she stared intently out of the window. Ivy chewed her lip. It wasn’t like Olivia to bottle things up. Dark and stormy is usually more my style. The twins were becoming more and more like each other and Ivy wasn’t sure that was entirely a good thing. Olivia was supposed to be the perky one – the Yin to Ivy’s Yang.
Ivy’s phone pinged from inside her black studded bag – a text! She plunged her hands inside, digging through the mess of lipstick, movie stubs, and spare tubes of Pale Beauty, hoping it was a message from Brendan. She pulled the phone out and thumbed the touch screen.
Hope you have a safe flight! V-Love, Sophia.
Ivy’s heart sank. Not that it wasn’t a nice text; it just wasn’t the one she wanted. She clicked out of the message without responding and looked at her phone’s wallpaper screen – a picture of her and Brendan making silly faces. Brendan had his cheeks puffed out and he was scratching his head like a chimpanzee, and she had sucked her cheeks into a ridiculous fish-face. We look so happy. She stroked the brooch that she was wearing on her top. I hope we’re still that happy when I get back.
Ivy shoved the phone back into her bag, trying not to think about how fine he had seemed at the Meat and Greet. How unconcerned about the time they would be spending apart. Ivy knew Brendan well enough to understand that it was probably just his way of coping, but she couldn’t help feeling a little hurt. Of course, she had wanted him to be OK with her trip to Transylvania – but there was such a thing as being too OK with being separated from your girlfriend for a week or two. Maybe longer.
As the wheels of the car edged up to the kerb at the airport, Ivy frowned to herself. Brendan Daniels was not supposed to behave like a dumb guy from a stupid teen bunny show.