Between Friends (10 page)

Chapter Sixteen

At three o’clock, in Edinburgh – or at least, in its seaside suburb of Portobello – a young girl was running along the pavement, her shoes in her hand, her long hair streaming out behind her, a look of sheer panic on her face. At one street corner, a drunk lurched towards her, well-meant concern masked by a face contorted by an effort at concentration.

‘Y’all right, hen? Y’all right by yoursel’? Oot sae late.’

The girl twisted away from the figure frantically, sped on. He turned, loose-limbed and shambling, steadied himself against a wall and muttered, ‘S’no right. Should be in her bed, the wee lassie.’

A hundred yards further and a police car slowed down, watched her progress, then lowered a window. The girl, glancing frenziedly over her shoulder, clicked open a gate, ran along the path and pushed at the bell. Once. Twice. A third time. The police car hovered, watchfully, by the kerb. A light came on in an upper window of the small white cottage, then the front door opened. The girl turned, waved a vague hand at the patrol car, as if to say, ‘I’m fine,’ then disappeared into the cottage. The car moved away. There were other problems to deal with, more challenging demands on time and expertise. This situation, at least, appeared under control.

‘Emily?’ Marta, hazy with sleep, assessed the pale apparition and groped for alertness. ‘What are you doing here? What’s the time? Are you on your own? Has something happened?’

The girl was shuddering, her breath coming in sobs. Mascara had run down her face, leaving dark streaks and the absurd platinum and purple hair was tangled. Marta’s gaze travelled downwards – her feet were completely bare. Concern bit through sleepiness. Now she was fully awake.

‘Come in for heaven’s sake, come into the kitchen.’

She took Emily’s hand and led her towards the darkness of an open doorway and the reassuring hum of the refrigerator. She flicked on the light as the noise gurgled and died. Marta liked the hum of the machinery in her home. She liked the dishwasher doing its work, rinsing, cleaning, drying. She loved the washing machine, filling, emptying, spinning. The tumble dryer was best of all because it tossed its contents lazily to and fro, to and fro, before delivering soft, warm, comforting clothes, ready to be neatly folded and stowed in drawers. Her appliances spoke to her. This is our home too, they reminded her, we like to keep it nice for you. Even now, even through her concern for Emily, they carried on doing their work of calming and soothing.

‘Sit down.’ She helped Emily gently onto a chair.

Didn’t the child have a coat, for heaven’s sake? Even a wrap of some sort? She should never be out on her own, late at night, dressed like this. She surveyed the garments as Emily’s thin shoulders continued to heave. Surely that was the dress Emily had bought on their outing a couple of weeks ago?

‘It’s all right, Em. You’re safe.’

Another small sob, another shudder.

Marta leant forward and folded her into her embrace, felt the tension in the slight body as the girl’s head thudded onto her shoulder.

‘It’s all right. Hey. Shh. It’s all right.’

What in heaven’s name had happened? When the heaving stopped, she disentangled herself carefully, took Emily’s arms firmly between her hands and said, ‘Tell me.’

At last Emily looked at her. Her lower lip was wobbling, but she managed to speak with no more than a tremor.

‘Suzy was having a party, at her house. It’s in Portobello, not too far from here.’

She flicked a multi-coloured strand of hair out of her eyes, wiped a shaky hand across them and fumbled in her bag for a hankie. She blew her nose noisily and settled back in her chair, the tissue still crumpled damply in her fist.

‘It was only meant to be a small one, you know? Like her best mates, some of the guys from school and the orchestra—’

‘So what happened?’

‘She put the invitation out on Facebook.’

Marta groaned. ‘Let me guess. There were gatecrashers?’

‘Yeah. Like, hundreds.’

‘Where were Suzy’s parents? Did they know she was having this party?’

‘Yeah. Honest. They’re at her mum’s sister’s in Stirling. She’s had parties before. There’s never been a problem.’

She was eying Marta with a spark of defiance now. Whatever had scared her, the effect was wearing off.

‘I believe you, Emily. Maybe she hadn’t put it on Facebook before?’

‘Maybe.’

Marta eyed the child worriedly. What should she do? Call Jane and Neal, ask them to fetch her? Put her in the car and drive her home herself?

‘Can I stay here tonight, Marta? Please?’

‘Oh, I don’t know—’ Tom had gone to Glasgow, the spare room was empty and it would save a lot of trouble... ‘Well, all right, I suppose so. I’ll just go and call your mum, so she doesn’t worry.’

‘You needn’t bother, I’ve texted her already,’ Emily said quickly, her eyes flickering to her handbag where, Marta supposed, her mobile was nestling.

‘Really? When?’

‘On the way here.’

‘Honestly?’ Marta pressed, filled with doubt. Her goddaughter had not been exactly honest the last time Marta had asked her about her parents’ views.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die. She said great, it would save Dad coming out to get me.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Okay then, come along. Let’s get you into bed as soon as possible. Need a drink of water?’

‘Yes please.’ She followed Marta upstairs, carrying the glass carefully. She seemed to have recovered, Marta thought, watching her climb the last few steps. The water wasn’t even rippling.

At nine o’clock the telephone rang. Jake, who must have come in some time after Emily’s late night appearance, rolled over sluggishly and lifted the receiver.

‘Hello? Jake here.’

Marta, ascending the dark tunnel from somnolence into conscious thought, could hear only a muffled high-pitched yammering down the receiver.

‘No, she’s not here, Jane. Sorry.’

She was instantly alert. ‘Is it about Emily? She is here, Jake,’ she said, raising her voice to cut through the conversation.

‘What? Sorry, Marta interrupted, I didn’t hear ... no, I don’t think so, no.
What
?’

‘Emily
is
here.’

‘Christ, well what do I know? I only live here.’

Clearly peeved, he handed her the phone, then pulled the duvet back up over his head and rolled away.

‘Jane? Hi, it’s Marta. Listen, Emily’s here, she’s still sleeping. She said she’d texted you.’

Jane’s voice exploded down the line. ‘She’s
there
! Christ, Marta, why the hell didn’t you let me know? I’ve been going frantic here. When I phoned Suzy’s m-mum to find out when to pick her up, I got this long story about how the whole house had been trashed, they’d got a call from Suzy in the middle of the night, in tears. They had to come back from Stirling to deal with it. Hundreds of yobs, apparently, the whole p-place is a complete wreck and she didn’t know where Emily was, she thought she’d come back here because she just d-d-disappeared. What in heaven’s name is she doing with you? What happened? Is she all right? And why didn’t you phone me? Didn’t you stop to think for one m-minute that I would be going off my head with worry—’

‘Jane, stop. Calm down, will you?’ What was wrong with Jane these days? ‘She told me she’d texted you. Okay?’

‘Are you saying she was lying?’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake. No Jane, I am not saying she was lying. Have you checked your phone?’

‘Of course I’ve checked my phone. I’ve been checking it every two minutes since I found she wasn’t at the P-Pattersons.’

‘Well, maybe her text didn’t get through. Sometimes they don’t.’

‘You should have phoned me yourself, M-Marta.’

‘What, at three in the morning?’

‘Was that when she came round to you? P-please, Jesus, tell me she wasn’t running around the streets at that hour, on her own?’

‘Relax, Jane, will you? She’s fine. She’s safe. She’s here. Now, what would you like to me to do? Bring her round?’

‘No thanks, M-Marta.’ The voice had switched from raging to icy. ‘I can’t really trust you with my child. One of us will come for her.’

‘Fine.’

Marta jabbed at the off button. She had a sudden image of the very first time she’d seen Emily Harvie. Still a baby – pink and tiny, her nose peeping out over a pure white blanket, her eyes closed, the lashes already long and dark, her lips puckering exquisitely in an involuntary search for sustenance. And Jane, laughing and proud, holding the tiny bundle out to her.

‘Hold her,’ she was saying, ‘Hold my baby.’

Marta had taken the precious package gingerly, marvelling at the miracle that was a new life.

She’d had no idea then just how elusive that miracle would prove for her and Jake.

Trust. Friendship. Loyalty. What had happened to all of that? What had happened to Jane, for heaven’s sake? Ever since that dinner with Tom she’d been edgy and irritable – no, more than irritable, downright angry.

‘Is there any chance at all of being told about what is going on in my own house?’

Jake’s voice had a sarcastic edge that wasn’t like him at all. Marta kissed his forehead and ruffled her hand through his tousled morning hair.

Everything is falling apart, she thought. My friend is furious with me and my husband is peevish and unhappy. I have a just-turned-sixteen-year-old child in the next room, who has quite possibly been telling me lies, and I seem absolutely unable to conceive a child of my own.

She explained, patiently. ‘Emily rang the bell around three. She was upset. Suzy’s party had been gatecrashed and there were about a hundred yobs trashing the place. She was frightened. I calmed her down and offered to run her home, but she asked if she could stay.’

‘And you said yes? And didn’t bother to let Jane know? Didn’t you stop for a minute to think that her parents might worry about her?’

‘Jake, of course I did. Didn’t you hear me? Emily told me she had already texted her mum.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Marta, she’s a teenager. She’s running rings around you and you’re letting her do things her own parents won’t.’

‘That’s not fair. I would have called Jane if I’d thought for one minute that Emily was lying. Anyway, it’s just as well someone listens to the poor kid. Jane and Neal are far too controlling. If Emily is trying to break out, it’s hardly surprising.’

‘It’s not up to you to tell them how to bring up their child.’

‘Whose side are you on, Jake? I have never tried to tell them how to bring up their child. I have simply spent a bit of time with Emily and if she chooses to come here when she’s in trouble, instead of going home, well actually, I am quite proud of that.’

Jake sat up and swung his legs out of bed. ‘I’m going for a shower.’

Marta watched as he strode naked across the room, muscle, bone and sinew moving smoothly under the taut, pale skin. He had lost weight recently, surely? She glanced at the clock. Nine thirty. He can’t have come in till four, he should still be sleeping – no wonder he was irritable.

She pulled on a white cotton robe and went reluctantly to rouse Emily. The girl was curled up, her face peaceful and young, her dyed hair a reproach. Looking at her now, Marta understood why Jane had been so upset. There was nothing about the style that suited Emily, it simply made her look trashy.

Marta’s heart ached as she watched her friend’s child breathing softly. She didn’t want to fall out with Jane. She was only trying to help. Misunderstandings and arguments made her miserable, they always had. Whatever was eating away at Jane, she had to get to the bottom of it.

Maybe she’d get Carrie’s take on it. And where
was
Carrie anyway? She hadn’t heard from her in an age.

‘Emily.’

She stooped, touched the girl on the shoulder.

‘Em,’ she said, slightly louder, when there was no response. ‘You’ll need to wake up, sweetheart.’

Marta wasn’t ready for a conversation with Jane – wrong time, wrong place, wrong circumstances – so she was relieved that it was Neal who came for the child.

Neal, in contrast to Jane’s earlier histrionics, was calm, polite and non-confrontational. He even thanked Marta for giving his daughter shelter. ‘It was really kind of you, I’m sorry you were woken up so late. Emily must have been really relieved you were here. Emily?’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’

Emily looked wan. Her face was pale and there were shadows under her eyes, where the delicate skin looked drawn. She’d refused breakfast, she’d barely spoken since she’d appeared and she hadn’t looked directly at Marta at all. The skimpy dress was draped precariously over her thin shoulders and looked, in the cool light of morning, even more inappropriate than it had last night.

‘Would you like to borrow a cardi, Emily, or a T-shirt? It’s a bit chilly this morning.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m all right.’

‘Thank you,’ Neal prompted.

‘Thanks.’

‘Right, Emily, we’d better get back to your mother. Thanks again, Marta. Bye for now.’

‘Bye, Neal. Tell Jane I’ll give her a call.’

‘Will do.’

She watched as the car eased away and disappeared down the road.

Jake said, ‘Well. Does that mean we have the house to ourselves for an hour or two? For the first time in – how long? Two weeks?’

Marta closed the front door and stared at a chip in the cream paintwork thinking,
we must touch that up
, while her mind was processing more urgent thoughts –
don’t let him do this, don’t let him descend into sarcasm.

‘Yes. How shall we celebrate? It’s probably too early in the day for Bollinger, so shall I make coffee?’

Jake followed her into the kitchen. ‘Did you take some cash out of the drawer in my study, by the way?’

‘Cash? No, why would I do that?’

‘I didn’t suppose you had, but there’s some missing.’

‘Really? How much?’

‘About two hundred pounds.’

She whirled round, the kettle in her hand, her mouth open in shock. ‘
Two hundred pounds
? Jesus, Jake, I didn’t know you had two hundred pounds, let alone cash like that lying around in the house.’