Page 13 of When We Were Friends
‘Remember that sulphur experiment in chemistry when you threw up because of the stink? Your breakfast landed on Jasmine’s new shoes.’
Morgan had forgotten what a toothy smile Emily had. Tiff used to be jealous, said it was celebrity perfect.
‘What about that five-mile cross country? One mile in and Tiff pretended to faint.’ Emily shook her head. ‘The teacher got his car and drove her back to school.’
‘We always knew that one day she’d be a great performer,’ said Morgan. ‘We were good at lying when we had to be. Like Paige wearing her mum’s pale foundation to school, pleading illness as the reason she hadn’t done her homework.’
The laughter left Emily’s face. ‘Yes. We were. Great liars. Even to each other. Prom night proved that.’
Shit.
Emily stood up, slipped into her coat and zipped it right up again. She pulled up the hood. ‘One thing life has taught me is that lies hurt. Lies have consequences. It’s because of that we can’t ever be proper friends again.’
Morgan stood up and held out her hand. ‘Thanks for coming anyway. I really appreciate it.’ Emily paused and then slipped her hand into Morgan’s. The years fell away, leaving them in the dark, unused school basement, fingers intertwined, chanting their oath.
‘You’re absolutely convinced it’s the right thing to do, aren’t you?’
Morgan hesitated. ‘A few months ago Olly came out to me, as gay. He’s been through a tough time. School’s hard enough without having to work out who you really are. Hugo has always been another piece of this identity puzzle. I want my son to feel complete and will do anything to help him build his self-assurance and sense of who he is.’
‘Oh. Poor lad.’ Emily looked down at their hands, still intertwined. She let go and walked away, stopped after a few paces and took off her hood, turned around. ‘I’m probably going to regret this, but okay. I understand more now. I’ll help.’
Morgan felt as happy as the time she’d got an unexpected bonus at work and could pay for an ecstatic little Olly to go camping with Cubs. ‘You really mean it?’
‘It’s not as if there’s anything else going on in my life. As long as we’re clear, this is about your Olly, not us revisiting the past.’
‘You think we will?’ asked Morgan and she leant forwards. ‘Find Hugo, that is?’
‘Of course. The Secret Gift Society never once failed, but it’ll mean getting the others on board. The Case of the Missing Father could be a tricky one.’
8
PAIGE, EMILY, TIFF
Paige went to her desk, in her study, a room she’d hoped might one day be a nursery. She tied her Ted Baker wool wrap coat tightly, and sat in front of her laptop and the email she’d received a few days ago. Since meeting her old friends, she’d hardly slept, had lost weight, and taken up smoking again. Today’s get-together couldn’t possibly make things worse – could it? Morgan and Emily had found her on the internet and asked to meet up. Her business, North West Bodytalk, had a website with a contact page and her address. Perhaps they’d put her name along with Castlefield into the search engine, as Paige had mentioned to Morgan that’s where she lived. In fact, Morgan and Emily had suggested meeting up nearby, at the end of Deansgate in New Chapter Café.
So Emily had clearly changed her mind and was now helping with the… what had they called it? The Case of the Missing Father.
Ridiculous.
Paige got up, walked through the living room and into the kitchen. On Sundays, she usually tidied up and did her admin whilst Felix had a lie-in. She downed a glass of filtered water. She should have been brave enough to tell Morgan, when they first met, why she’d never agree to spending hours investigating Hugo’s whereabouts. The only thing that held her back was this sense that Morgan had an important secret agenda. But then why should Paige care? They were no longer friends. They no longer had sleepovers where they shared such secrets under the covers. Morgan, who’d once been like the sister she’d never had, who was going to do all those typical girlfriend things as they got older – share a flat, be godmother to Paige’s kid, be best man at her wedding (girl power, natch).
Paige consulted her watch, turned up her coat collar and scribbled a note to her husband saying she wouldn’t be gone long. She went into the bedroom and left it on a pillow, kissing him gently on the forehead before leaving. Outside, the Manchester air, crisp and unforgiving, cleared her head. Today, the time had come. She needed to drop her bombshell from the past, whatever the consequences. It was best for everyone.
* * *
The train hurtled past Stockport, the Plaza theatre, the old Debenhams. Tiff was on the road to fame, Paige had her own business and Morgan a child she adored. Emily had a looming divorce and P45 – she wasn’t going back to the hospital, not that the emergency care matron knew that yet, she’d only insist Emily finish the counselling before making such a major decision. Emily had attended her first session on Friday. The woman with poodle curls and furry jumper sat opposite and dug her claws into Emily’s childhood.
Like Olly, Emily only had one parent now, and even though she was thirty-five, it still felt like a blemish on her life. The train pulled into Piccadilly Station and she walked down towards Market Street, stopping to give a homeless man a fifty-pence coin. A retro street performer danced to ‘Wannabe’ by the Spice Girls, one-time heroes of the four girls, each determined to forge their own way in life, equal to men in the best ways. How her friends would have disapproved of Emily doing a striptease to that song for her husband, when they first got together. Lewis had loved their hits and she’d put on his Union Jack boxer shorts for full effect. Her throat hurt. Lewis. She missed him. But not his adamant belief that her future still lay in nursing, whatever the cost. He’d become active in the ambulance union now too, and part of her loved him for it. However, it wasn’t in her any more, to give away so much of herself to a National Health Service in such a mess.
New Chapter Café came into view and an unfamiliar buzz flickered in her stomach. She’d come up with an idea of how to find Hugo and was keen to share it. Morgan was waiting outside and for one moment, the predictability of her old friend arriving first eased the ache that had made itself comfortable inside Emily for so long.
* * *
The problem with having a photographic memory was that you could burn a phone number but still remember it. The numbers danced around in Tiff’s head for several days, willing Tiff on to ring Morgan. Instead, she mentioned to Mum that she’d been in contact with the girls.
‘Oh love.’ Her mum had teared up. She’d been so fond of her daughter’s friends. For all her nagging ways, suggesting teen Tiff eat healthier, to start priming herself for a Hollywood career, Tiff always appreciated how welcoming her mum had been, letting her friends stay late at weekends. Now and then, Tiff’s parents even joined in board games. ‘You were such good friends,’ she’d said. ‘It cut straight through me, Tiffy, when you had that little argument.’
Littleargument? But then Tiff had never explained to her mother exactly what had happened at the school dance. After Hugo’s derision, for the first time, Tiff focused on becoming a success for herself, not just for her parents. She should have thanked him, really, because this made all the difference. How satisfying it would be to rub his nose in everything she was achieving. To show him that he was wrong – that the chubby little nerd was actually worth something. Maybe meeting him now would finally extinguish that need to seek validation from every colleague, date, fan, human. Tiff picked up her phone and typed in the numbers the flames had burned.
