Something More (Girlfriend Fiction 11) (13 page)

‘I'm not, but if we did go out, wouldn't that make things awkward for you and him?'

‘Yeah, for a bit, but he'd get over it. I would if it was the other way around. You can't make someone like you.'

He leant casually against the traffic lights, but his right hand pushed the button frantically. I was instantly assaulted by memories of Brian, who used to do exactly the same. Maybe it was a guy thing? To be all laid back and impatient at the same time?

I realised then that Sam was much more like Brian than I'd been prepared to acknowledge. My mouth felt dry. I was in no state to make a decision about this now.

‘I'll get back to you on that one, Sam.' I changed the subject tactlessly. ‘Thanks for all your help today. I'll pick up our photos on my way home; I'll leave yours in your art tray.' I consulted my watch. ‘Okay, I'm going to catch my train.'

‘Think about it,' he said, and he ambled off with a wave. As if I needed that instruction. I drove myself mad thinking about it as I picked up the photos from Uncle Colin's and began my journey home – but as the train took me further away from Sam, my thoughts kept returning to the black-and-whites.

I considered my meetings with Jack over the last week. He'd been pretty smart getting the photos back. I bet he was horrified when Sam told him they'd fallen into my hands. Now I was going to have to wait another week to find out why he'd taken them. And where were they now? Up on his bedroom wall in a collage like the ones kept by mad serial killers?

I tried to be honest with myself. Jack didn't seem weird. At the party he'd hung around and cared enough to walk me home, and I'd welcomed our conversation this morning in the end. It had been good to confide in someone at last.

There was that tiny issue of him sending me to my near death in the pool…that was a bit homicidal. But he did apologise several times.

But…

He was nowhere near as hot as Sam; he wasn't my type; and I was certain he was keen on Molly. And even if there was an attraction there, I was about to dob in his father! He'd hate me if he ever discovered my betrayal.

Back home, everyone was gathered in the kitchen.

Terry gasped in mock concern. ‘Isla, what's happened?'

When I didn't answer, she pointed to my head.

‘Your hair's all curly.'

‘I know,' I said absently, slumping into a chair. The frizz had escaped the elastic bands.

Should I help Dad with this case, or keep out of it? It's not like Dad would ever find out that I was withholding information.

‘How was your party?' Mum asked, in a funny singsong voice.

They were all staring.

‘I fell into the pool and left early.'

Mum was disappointed.

Dad snorted. ‘I hope you didn't pee in it?'

‘Jim!' Mum exclaimed.

I shook my head.

‘Well…you couldn't have embarrassed yourself too much then,' Dad reassured me, picking up the paper.

I smiled at him fondly. I had to help him.

‘How did your art assignment go?' Mum asked. ‘Who was it you were meeting again?'

‘Oh…just a guy called Sam,' I said. I sensed Terry's interest, so I hurried on before she could sabotage the conversation. ‘Then we went to the Lions game so I could take a few more photos for my Major Work.'

‘That's your big assessment, isn't it?' Dad butted in.

I nodded. ‘It's due next Monday. We have to display our photos and give a speech about our exhibition.'

‘You get all that expertise from me, kid.'

Mum snorted. Terry rolled her eyes and made a beeline for the door – which was good news. She'd see right through my pretence if she stayed.

‘Yep, Dad, you're an expert. The game was good,' I added, hoping he'd take the bait.

‘They got beat didn't they?'

‘Yeah, but the crowd was going wild, so I got some brilliant shots of them and the cheerleaders…and the mascot guy being jumped on by a player.' I took a quick breath. ‘Sam Doyle told me a funny thing about that guy.'

‘What's that, then?'

‘Well, this guy, Jack Ferris, in my year at school…it's his dad inside the lion mascot suit.' I paused for a second.

Work with me, Dad. Work with me
.

‘Yeah…Jack Ferris's dad is the mascot guy.' I gave a false giggle and stole a quick glance at Dad. He seemed to be frozen in his chair.

‘I bet it wasn't much fun being Leo the Lion today,' I went on brightly. ‘I mean, I bet that clash with the player was painful. I even saw some blood when he took the mask off for a second. Got some great snaps of that for my crowd shots…Dad? Dad, is something wrong?'

Dad had got it. He was half out of his chair, and his face had gone red.

‘What did you say this kid's name was?'

I pretended to be puzzled. ‘Which kid?'

‘The kid with the mascot dad.'

‘Oh, it's Jack…Jack Ferris, and his dad is Steve, I think that's what my mate Sam said. Yeah, Steve Ferris. Sam Doyle's parents have known him forever. Poor Jack, I'd die if you wore a lion suit and people knew.'

But Dad didn't hear me. He left the room, muttering to himself.

Ah, my work here is done!

Dad popped back into the room.

‘Can I have copies of your photos from today?'

I feigned surprise.

‘I think you may have stumbled on the answer to my fraud case.'

Stumbled? What a cheek!

‘What do you mean?'

‘Well, it so happens that the man I've been following is called Steve Ferris. I told you he's been doing something at the football ground – and the mascot job would explain why I keep losing him. How was I to know he was inside a costume?'

He grabbed my cheeks in both hands and planted a big mushy kiss on my lips. ‘You're a genius, pet. I hope the photos are as good as you think.'

‘They'll cost you.'

He laughed. ‘I don't think so. I'll make you my partner instead. We can be McBay & Daughter Investigations – I'll do all the brainwork, and you can take the pictures.'

I left him, shaking my head sadly. Brainwork? You had to laugh!

But I couldn't, really. I'd just sold Jack out.

Upstairs, Terry's door was closed. I could hear her on the phone; she was probably talking to Sean. No doubt he was scared to death, too. I knocked softly on her door and heard her say something to her caller before she told me to come in.

She was lying on her bed with the phone in her hand. She spoke before I did. ‘Thanks for today.'

I climbed onto the bed and lay beside her.

‘Was that Sean?'

‘Yes. He just wondered if I had any news.'

‘I was worried when you turned your phone off earlier. I thought maybe you'd done the test after all and the news was bad and…'

‘And what? I'd topped myself?'

‘Don't be stupid. I just thought you were probably alone and miserable somewhere, and I wanted to come and get you.'

‘Really?'

I nodded.

‘I wouldn't have asked you to tear yourself away from Sam Doyle. How did that go, anyway?'

I paused for a second. Here was a chance to share something real with her. I had a choice: keep her out or let her in?

Unaware that I was stalling, she said, ‘Molly and him aren't that serious. Everyone reckons she likes him more than he likes her. I bet he hasn't made her any promises.'

‘Yeah, well, I had a good day with him, but to be honest, it was no big deal. I'm not sure I'm that interested anymore.'

‘So you just don't fancy him now? Was he boring or something?'

‘No. He was great, but he's just not—'

‘Brian.' She sat up. ‘They do seem quite similar, Isla.'

That wasn't what I'd been about to say.

‘What is it?' she demanded. ‘You've gone all weird.'

Again I hesitated before taking her into my confidence.

‘He's just not Jack.'

Terry gasped. ‘Are you kidding me? Jack Ferris?'

For a horrible second I thought she was going to laugh in my face. But she let out a long whistle before saying, ‘When did this happen?'

It was a difficult question, and one I couldn't answer in full without explaining what Jack knew. I made a start by telling her about the photos.

‘But what's he doing with them?' she demanded.

‘I don't know.'

‘Doesn't it creep you out?'

‘That's what Fiona thinks.'

She scowled. ‘I can't believe I'm agreeing with Fee-Fi-Foe-Fum. I'm sure there's a non-creepy reason. I like Jack. He's cute. He hangs about with Sean and Molly sometimes – but I don't think he fancies Molly or anything,' she hurried to reassure me. ‘They're just friends. If you do go out with Jack, you'll probably have to hang with her. She's not as bad as you think.'

It seemed to escape her entirely that I might have to spend time with Molly for much more pressing reasons. She began to play with a strand of my hair.

I took a deep breath. ‘Terry, I need to tell you something. Molly found out about you being late. She read an email that you sent Sean.'

‘She read his email? I hate her! She's an evil witch!'

‘Calm down.'

‘What will she do?'

Even as she asked, I could see her next question forming:

‘How did you find out she read his mail? Did she speak to you? Have you told her anything?' She bounced off the bed.

I sat up and told her about Jack.

‘Oh, my god. Jack knows?' She burst into tears.

I went over to her and steered her back to the bed. I let her cry softly on my shoulder.

‘This secret is much bigger than you and Sean now. I understand that you think if you put off the test you can cling onto a normal sort of life for a little bit longer, but it's time to find out now, one way or the other. We'll do it tomorrow.'

‘I'm scared.'

‘It's okay to be scared. I am too, but I promise I'll stay with you.'

‘Thanks.' She barely got the word out before the tears started again.

I lay beside her, listening to her quiet sobbing just as I had done all those years ago, but this time I had my arms around her.

When I was certain from her even breathing that she was asleep, I slid from the bed and stooped down to turn off her lamp. She seemed so young and peaceful lying there with her blonde hair streaming around her pillow.

My heart ached for her.

‘If you must choose between a rock
and a hard place, Isla, pick the rock
then throw it at the person who got
you into the mess to begin with.'

(Gran McGonnigle)

Monday morning came without oblivion time. I woke up acutely aware of what lay ahead.

Mum and Dad were both on early shifts, so Terry and I had the house to ourselves. We crowded together in the bathroom while Terry held the box and read the directions for the millionth time.

‘I can't do this.'

I grabbed her hand. ‘Sure you can. I'm here for you.' I meant it.

‘No, I really can't do it. I've got stage fright.'

‘Oh,' I said, catching on. ‘Do you want me to leave?'

‘No. It won't make any difference. I don't feel like peeing,' she wailed.

‘Did you pee already this morning?'

‘No.'

‘Okay, drink some water. You might feel ready after that.'

While she was finishing the drink, back in her bedroom, I had a go at broaching the subject of what to do next.

‘Have you and Sean talked much about what you'll do if this is positive?'

‘We've done nothing but talk about it.'

‘What have you decided?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Have you worked out what your options are?'

She nodded. ‘Pretty much: keep it, get rid of it, or give it away.'

I must have looked a bit taken aback by her bluntness because she added, ‘Well there's no nice way to say it, is there?'

‘I suppose not.'

I didn't want to seem like I was interrogating her, so I stopped asking questions. ‘You should see someone before you decide. Someone else, I mean, not just Mum and Dad.'

‘Like a counsellor?'

‘Yeah.'

‘We've already talked about that. Sean wants us to visit someone together. He's been so good about it all. Did I tell you he got the test for me?'

‘No.'

‘I didn't have the guts to go into the chemist and buy one myself, especially since everyone in there seems to have met Mum. There are two testers in a pack. A friend of Sean's from his youth group had one left over so he grabbed it for me.'

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying, ‘Well it must be love.'

‘Was she…?'

‘False alarm.'

‘Let's try again,' I said.

Her confidence deserted her once more. I thought she was going to bolt out the door.

‘Give it here,' I ordered.

Reluctantly, she passed it over.

It was labelled ‘Clear Blue'. It had a picture of a pretty blonde woman on the front, guarding her stomach and gazing serenely at the world.

There should be different packaging for people in Terry's situation. I put my hand inside and pulled out a silver-foiled package.

She watched my every move.

I tried to open it with my fingernails, but resorted to using my teeth. I took out a funny wand thing with a little window on the top. We eyed it suspiciously.

‘Where the hell am I supposed to put that?' Terry demanded.

‘I don't know, do I? It's all new to me too. Pass me the instructions.'

I scanned them. Right, I understood. It was simple enough.

‘Collect your pee and…'

‘Collect it in what?'

‘In the specimen jar provided,' I read.