Pretending - Holly Bourne Page 0,97

incurable brain cancer.

She raises her blubbering face, shot through with red-raw emotion. I brace myself for the impact. ‘It’s … it’s … him.’

I close my eyes for a second. Malcolm. I allow myself a moment’s relief. This is a problem we have overcome many times before. I should’ve known, really, the moment she got into the foetal position. ‘Oh hon, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry,’ I say, even though I’m not sure what he’s done yet. I drop to the floor. Pat her back. Tug her armpits. Encourage her to come and sit on the sofa to tell me what happened.

‘He … he …’ she leans forward onto her knees and starts crying again. All I can do is keep rubbing her back, waiting for her to get the words out. I glance at my door. I can feel Joshua’s getting-ready movements. Is he going to stay in there? Or come out? How do I explain any of this? But Megan howls again and snaps my attention back.

‘Tell me,’ I urge. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘It’s stupid. I’m so so stupid.’

‘You’re not stupid.’

‘Yes I am. So fucking stupid. I’m pathetic. I’m JUST SO PATHETIC.’ She lurches up and she looks like a possessed demon. Snot smeared over her, hair matted from tears, last night’s make-up streaming down her face. It’s at this exact moment that Joshua decides to make his sheepish entrance. Megan jumps. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

I leap up, step between them and grab Joshua’s wrist. ‘This is Joshua.’ I don’t know what else to say. Megan’s mouth is open. She shakes her head.

‘Joshua?’

‘Hi,’ he says. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll leave you guys to it.’

The shock’s at least snapped Megan out of her hysterics. She watches as I lead him to the door. We step into the corridor, just as I hear her sobs start up again.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Umm. Boy trouble.’

‘I could hear.’

‘I think it’s going to be a while.’

‘And there I was, looking forward to making you eggs.’

‘I don’t have any eggs.’

He does the smile again. ‘And there I was looking forward to going out and buying eggs and then making them for you.’ There’s a twinge in his voice. The smile is covering something. But Megan’s pain echoes through the ajar door and I have no time to contemplate it.

‘I’ll see you soon,’ I promise. ‘Have a good Saturday.’

‘Call me.’

We kiss goodbye. He wraps both arms around the small of my back and mashes his lips against mine more angrily than I’m expecting him to. I look up to see that he’s kissing me with his eyes open, staring vacantly over the top of my head.

‘Um, bye then,’ I say.

‘Bye.’

There’s no time for psychoanalysis. Not with the sounds coming from inside. I go back in and find Megan sprawled across the sofa, face down in a cushion, convulsing with grief.

‘Hey, hey, it’s OK.’ I bend down, balancing on the balls of my toes as I comfort her. ‘Please tell me what happened.’

‘I’m so embarrassed.’

‘Don’t be. What happened?’

‘I’m so stupid. I’m so crazy and fucking stupid!’

‘You’re not. What’s going on?’

She flips over and pushes herself up, her knees bent. She hiccups and can’t look at me she’s still crying so hard.

I try humour. ‘You look like Dawson in that meme.’

It lands. She snorts and wipes her face in a useless attempt to get rid of all the snot, but instead just turns it into a paste. ‘Don’t.’

‘Sorry Dawson.’

Another burp of giggles. ‘Stop it.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

She whimpers and clutches her knees further into herself. ‘It’s all my fault anyway,’ she starts. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything, but I really honestly thought we were on the same page. Argh.’ She shakes her head. ‘We were having such a good night. I was feeling proper loved up. Malcolm took me out for cocktails, he got us such a good table. He kept staring into my eyes, putting his hand on my back, telling me I was gorgeous every five minutes. We got back to his and things were still great. We ordered in Deliveroo and ate it in our pants. We felt like a proper couple, you know? I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t … ARGH!’ She clutches her head in her hands.

‘What did you say?’ I’m rubbing a figure of eight into her back with one hand, and patting her foot with another.

‘We were lying there, and he was staring at me, and playing with my hair. You know how you can just tell when a

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