Читать книгу Cross Her Heart: The gripping new psychological thriller from the #1 Sunday Times bestselling author - Sarah Pinborough, Sarah Pinborough - Страница 16

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I’m glad Courtney didn’t stay over. I just wanted to wash him out of me. It’s not him I think about all the time. The first thing I did after was check my phone for a Facebook message but there was nothing. I wanted to cry.

By the time we came downstairs, everyone was drunk and Ange was snogging Darryl in the kitchen, but after ten minutes or so, Jodie told the boys it was time to go. It felt clinical. Done what you came here for, now fuck off. I didn’t argue. It suited me when they left although after that came the interrogation as the girls wanted all the details. Did it sting? It stung me the first time. Did he get it in okay? Oh my God, how big? How was he after? I’d tried to stay excited about it but I felt hollow and sad. My first time shouldn’t have been like that. So nothingy. There wasn’t even any blood on the bed.

This morning it all feels like something that maybe happened in a dream, but the slightly dull ache between my thighs reminds me it was real. Can I dump him now? No. I’d look like such a tramp, and he’d be upset and who knows what he’d do, what he’d say or tweet or whatever. Call me fat and ugly and all that shit. I remember all the Snapchat crap that happened with Meg in Year Ten when she’d sent Christian pictures of her tits. At least I was never that stupid with Courtney. Anyway, I do like him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. It’s all a mess.

I lean against the door frame as I puff on the cigarette. We don’t smoke much or often – it’s shit for our lung capacity – but there are times. And this is one of them. Jodie’s mum, Amelia, apparently smokes occasionally and Jodie found the packet last night, after which Lizzie insisted we smoked to celebrate the death of virginity and one more girl being safe from vampires in the night. Weird punch and a cigarette. What a way to celebrate. I’d spent most of the time going to the loo – I think he’s burst my bladder with his big cock – to check my messages, and coming out with a big fake grin on my face to cover my disappointment at my empty inbox.

The tobacco tastes horrible now I’m sober, and I don’t inhale. Only Jodie and Lizzie inhale. Does he smoke? I haven’t asked him. I mentally add it to the list of things I want to know about him. If he ever messages me again. Was he having sex last night? Was he thinking about me?

‘I’ll have to shower before I go,’ I say, as a breeze blows my smoke back at me. ‘If my mum smells this on me, she’ll go apeshit.’

‘Tell her my mum was here and smoking.’

‘It’s not worth the hassle. You know what she’s like. She forgets I’m growing up sometimes.’

The others have gone. Ange had to get home for some family lunch and Lizzie’s mum collected her half an hour ago. She’d offered me a lift too, but I can’t face my mum yet. She’ll want to talk, for me to tell her all about my night, and I’m going to have to come up with something to placate her or just storm up to my bedroom and hide under my duvet, which is what I really want to do. She makes me moody and then my being moody hurts her feelings. Anyway, it’s not ten thirty yet. If Angela hadn’t had to get up, we’d all be lounging in bed.

‘Did she never smoke?’ Jodie asks.

‘Nope. She doesn’t drink much either. And she was probably a total loser when she was my age.’ It feels disloyal but it makes me sound cooler when really I’m the mouse of our group – the most ordinary one. Maybe that’s what bothers me. Maybe me and Mum are too alike. Both boringly average.

‘At least she’s there for you.’ Jodie doesn’t look at me, but stares out into the garden before throwing her butt down on the path. She nods at me to do the same. ‘I’ll clean up later.’

She makes us huge cups of milky coffee and we go into the lounge, slouching into the furniture. Her home is like a show house – beautiful but impersonal. It never fails to surprise me.

‘I don’t know why we moved here,’ Jodie says, curling her small frame up in the armchair. ‘It wasn’t so bad in our old house, but now she’s always in Paris. She comes home once a month for a night if I’m lucky, and I’m sure that’s just to check I haven’t wrecked anything. She needn’t have bought a house at all.’

It sounds like heaven to me, but then I see Jodie’s face and realise maybe it’s not as good as I imagine.

Jodie shrugs. ‘You know I’ve never met her new man?’ She pauses. ‘She used to at least be home at weekends, but now she doesn’t even bother with those. Got to stay in France to see him apparently. God forbid she should want to see me. It’s not as if I even really want her here, but I want her to want to, if you know what I mean.’

It’s only me Jodie opens up to like this. We’ve splintered from the others a bit. She’s older and recently I feel older too. Because of him.

‘But then she’s always been weird,’ she continues. ‘Like I’m not really here. Not a real person. A pet maybe. She makes sure I have everything I need, but that’s it. I can’t say I know very much about her at all. She had me really young, did I tell you that? I didn’t live with her for years. Until I was about eight. She paid some people to look after me, how wrong is that? She was off travelling or working or both.’

‘How often do you see your dad?’ I know her dad’s not around but that’s it. Swimming, clothes, music, sex, bitching, booze, those are the things we four, the Fabulous Four, talk about most.

‘I don’t,’ she says. ‘He left when I was born. My mum gave me a photo once to show me what he looked like, but you know what, I’m not even sure it was him.’

We’ve been getting closer over the weeks but suddenly I feel a surge of proper unity with her. As if foundations are being set underneath us. This is something the others can’t be part of.

‘I don’t care who my dad is,’ I say. ‘I totally honestly don’t.’ I pause. ‘A while back someone at school said maybe my dad was a rapist. You know, like he raped my mum and she didn’t abort me? And that’s why she’s never had a boyfriend or anything.’

‘Wow.’ Her eyes have widened. ‘That’s some messed-up shit.’

‘Yeah. I mean, I don’t believe it, but it’s the only time I’ve ever cared about who he was. The rest, well. It’s hard to miss a ghost. I don’t even have a photograph.’

‘Did you tell your mum about the rapist thing?’

‘Yeah. She was horrified. She was fussing around me, re-assuring me.’ I laugh. ‘How fucked up is it to be reassured that your dad is just some bloke your mum shagged round the back of a pub after drinking too much.’

I see her face.

‘I’m exaggerating. It wasn’t round the back of a pub, but she says it was a drunken one-night stand.’

‘At least she can’t have a go at you for anything to do with sex.’

I laugh again, but I’m thinking of last night. My first sex. The only sex I’ve had. Shit sex. I can’t imagine having any one-night stands. ‘I haven’t told her about Courtney yet.’

‘Are you guys a proper thing now?’

I stare down at my cooling coffee. ‘He wants it to be. I’m not so sure.’

‘I thought you were crazy about him. Was it the sex? First time’s always bad, so don’t judge him on it. Unless it was you who was shit.’

I half-heartedly throw a cushion at her. ‘Shut up. It’s not that. It’s complicated.’

‘Someone else?’

She sits up straighter, curious, and I know I should have lied and said everything was fine. I need to shut this down. ‘Maybe.’ Everything I say is potentially making it worse. I wish I hadn’t opened my mouth. If Jodie tells Ange I’m interested in someone, she’s going to presume it’s someone at school and be on my case all the time to know who. I’ll have to make someone up. Pick some boy at random. I can’t think of anyone I fancy in Year Thirteen. ‘But it’s only a crush.’ My face is flushing with worry. ‘It’s not going to be anything.’

‘Don’t worry. I won’t say anything to Ange,’ Jodie says, reading my mind. ‘I love her, but she’s got a big gob and I wouldn’t want her knowing my secrets, if I had any.’

‘Or the others?’ I ask. ‘I don’t want it to be a thing. I’m sure me and Courtney will be fine.’

‘I swear,’ she says. ‘Your secret’s safe. But if anything happens, you have to tell me first. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

For a moment I’m tempted to tell her everything. To tell her what’s really turned me off Courtney. The friend request. The messages. Everything about him. But suddenly, she’s up on her feet and saying I should grab the spare room shower and she’ll use her en-suite, and then we should go.

‘Shit,’ I say when we get back to mine and I’m rummaging in my bag. ‘I’ve lost my keys.’

‘Check the car floor,’ Jodie leans over. ‘I always find stuff down there.’

I scrabble around under the seat, but they’re not there. My house key, swim-locker key and school-locker key, all on a key ring with a pair of big red Mick Jagger lips. Gone.

‘Nope. Fuck it. Where can they be?’

Jodie roots around but comes up empty-handed, and then it dawns on me. ‘That dumb bitch in the pub who knocked my bag over.’

‘What about her?’

‘I don’t remember picking my keys up.’

‘You must have.’ She looks in my bag as if maybe my eyes aren’t working properly. ‘She was helping pick stuff up. Maybe she put them in a side pocket.’

I let her look, but I’ve already searched everything.

‘Your mum’s in though, right?’ she says.

‘Yeah, but I’ll take the spare from down the side. She’ll want to change the locks if she thinks I’ve lost mine, even though there’s no address or anything on them. You know what she’s like.’

‘You don’t have to explain your mum to me, remember. The weird mums club, that’s us.’

I grin and I want to say a thousand things to her but I think they’ll all make me sound lame, so instead I say, ‘I hear ya, sister,’ and climb out of the car. ‘See you at training on Monday. But text me, bitch.’

‘Happy revising!’ she calls out, and I groan. Three exams this week, and I can’t find a shit to give about any of them.

She toots her horn as she pulls away, and I hurry down to the side gate and lift the loose brick on the wall, peeling away the taped key underneath. I know Mum will have heard the car. She’ll be waiting for me.