The Two Lives of Lydia Bird - Josie Silver Page 0,59

better. ‘You got him out of a lot of scrapes as a kid.’

Jonah rests his head back against the wall. ‘Christ, but he was trouble,’ he says. ‘The only fight I ever had at school was his fault.’

I’m curious now; I don’t remember Jonah ever fighting. ‘Who did you fight with?’

He pauses, tapping his head lightly against the bricks as he thinks. ‘Nah, it’s gone. Some kid who Freddie should have known better than to mess with, anyway.’

‘He never knew when to stop,’ I chime in, because that was just his nature.

‘Fearless.’

‘Which isn’t always a good thing,’ I say, tempering Jonah’s JD-induced hero worship ever so slightly.

‘Better than being a coward,’ he says, bleak as he stares into the depths of the bottle again.

‘How’s things with Dee?’ I ask, more to change the subject than because I’m interested.

He rolls his head sideways on the wall to look at me. ‘Up and down.’

‘Is that a euphemism?’ Look at me, cracking a joke, rubbish as it is.

‘Very funny,’ he says, not laughing. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure it’s going anywhere. She’s just not that into me.’

I take the bottle from him and swill some back. ‘Somehow I find that hard to believe.’

‘She doesn’t think my head’s in the right place.’

‘What?’ I’m instantly angry on his behalf. ‘You lost your best friend earlier this year. What kind of person can’t understand that?’

He falls silent. ‘It’s not just Freddie she worries about,’ he says eventually. ‘It’s you too.’

‘Me?’ I’ve barely seen Dee since the event at the school, once or twice in passing with Jonah.

He stares at me, and for a moment I think he wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Then he sighs and shrugs.

‘She just doesn’t get it,’ he says, trying to explain. ‘That you and me were friends first, before you and Fred were even a thing. Platronic friends, I mean.’

‘Plantonic,’ I say, and misplaced laughter bubbles up in my throat because I can’t say it either. Christ, I’m half furious, half tickled, and then suddenly fireworks start to explode high in the skies above us.

‘Must be midnight,’ Jonah breathes, getting unsteadily to his feet, pulling me up with him.

We stand there shoulder to shoulder on my front step and watch the night sky burst into life, colour and light, while the poignant strains of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ strike up through the open window at the house party across the street.

Should old acquaintance be forgot. I listen to the familiar words, tears sliding down my cheeks. And never brought to mind. Freddie is never far from my mind, I think, feeling myself start to crumble. This is exactly the reason I didn’t want to go out tonight. I didn’t want to hear this song. I didn’t want to feel these feelings. And now I am and it’s every bit as wretched as I knew it would be.

Jonah and I lean against each other, tearful, holding our silence until the mournful song ends and Happy New Year cheers ring in 2019.

‘I can’t say it, Lyds,’ Jonah says, forlorn. I hear the tremor in his voice and my heart breaks afresh for the first time this year.

I bite my wobbling lip. I can’t bring myself to say those hopeful words either.

‘I’m going to make coffee,’ I say. ‘Come inside?’

‘I shouldn’t have come.’ He dashes his hands over his eyes and shakes his head. ‘It’s not helping either of us, Lyds.’

It cuts me. Our friendship is a small wooden boat that’s been tossed around on towering storm waves since the accident, smashed into time and time again by anger and grief and relentless frustration. Sometimes we’ve crested the wave, clutching each other’s hands for dear life, other times we’ve been hurled to the depths and wondered if the only way to survive is to throw the other overboard to lighten the load. It feels tonight as if Jonah has finally made his choice: this boat isn’t going to make it safely home with both of us aboard.

‘Sorry,’ he says. I guess he knows it was hard to hear.

‘You’re probably right,’ I sigh, pulling my dressing gown tight around my cold, cold body. Across the street people spill out of the party on to the pavement, a blur of lights and singing and raucous laughter, and the cat takes his chance to shoot out of the house for his preferred choice a few doors down.

‘I need to get out of here,’ Jonah whispers, hollow-eyed. He looks ill, as if he might throw up.