Page 26 of When We Were Friends
Morgan crouched by his side. ‘Now you listen. You listen good. There isnothingyou could ever do that would ever make me leave. I love you more than anything else in this world. What’s more, I’ve never lied to you before. Wouldn’t want to. Never could.’
A sob came from his chest and he covered his eyes, tears streaming down his face. His shoulders shook. Olly crying? In front of her? In the last year or two, he’d come down in the morning with red eyes, now and then. She’d ask if everything was all right, he’d insist he was fine. Then he came out, and she assumed that’s what the upset had been about. He’d not cried in front of her since he twisted his ankle when he was fifteen. Her heart felt as if it were tearing apart, not in half but into a thousand pieces that only her son’s happiness could put back together.
‘It’s all shit,’ he said. ‘Coming to terms with who I am, exam stress, not knowing my dad, and getting ready to go to university. Maybe he went and he could tell me what it’s like, give me tips on how to cope, reassure me I’ll be able to do the work, that I’ll make friends?’
Morgan felt as if she’d been working methodically through a page of long division and the answer was wholly unexpected. Olly anxious about going to college? This time last year, he’d spoken about it with such enthusiasm. She’d opened a separate account and moved a little money in once a month to set him up with kitchen equipment and books, and cover other living costs when the time came, that wouldn’t be covered by the student loan or grant. She slipped an arm around his shoulders and leant in, eyes wet. For once, he didn’t pull away, his fight gone. When the tension in his body eased, she fetched them each a glass of water.
‘Okay. The truth. I know I’ve told you about The Secret Gift Society in the past…’
Olly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and sat up. ‘That club you and three friends at high school formed? Remember how you made up stories about it when I was little, solving mysteries like the four of you used to? I used to think how cool it sounded.’
A nostalgic feeling ran through her. ‘Yes. I remember. So… I put a coded message in the last Dailsworth High alumni newsletter, and reached out to the girls – well, women now. We’ve been in touch and the four of us are going to France.’
Olly’s jaw dropped and he uttered an expletive. ‘But didn’t things end, like,reallybadly? Why would you bother now?’
‘We’re re-forming the society for one last case.’ Her throat felt dry. ‘They’re going to help me look for your dad. We knew him at school.’ Morgan took a deep breath. ‘He’s called Hugo. Hugo Black.’
Olly put down his glass. Didn’t speak for a moment. ‘Hugo. Hugo,’ he said, as if trying the word out to see if it was a good fit. ‘You’re really looking for him?’
She nodded.
‘I… I can’t believe it. But that club was a kids’ thing, right? It’s not like you’re actual detectives.’
Morgan told him about their visit to Mlle Vachon.
‘My dad’s half French?’ He shook his head and repeated the name Hugo several more times, as if learning a multiplication table, as if scared he’d forget it, as if worried Morgan would somehow take it back if it wasn’t engraved in his head.
‘Your grandparents split up, but I’ve no idea why. It seems that Sylvie, your grandmother, took Hugo to the south of France, where she grew up, not long after the prom, and they lived close to her parents. But I’m so sorry to tell you, love, that… she passed away when your dad… whenyour dadwas twenty-five. She apparently got hit by a motorbike. I’ve not learnt anything about your granddad, Garth, yet though. Sylvie’s dad died shortly before she did, I don’t know anything about her mum, Hugo’s grandmother.’
Olly got up and paced the kitchen. ‘Hugo. Sylvie. Garth. I can’t take it in. Have you got a photo?’
Morgan went upstairs, pulled down the loft ladder and climbed up. The storage boxes were labelled alphabetically. Morgan had kept her old school exercise books, she wasn’t quite sure why. She tore the masking tape off one of the boxes and rummaged towards the bottom, carefully sliding out a long, rectangular photo: the yearly snapshot of all the pupils. With her arm, she wiped off the dust before climbing back down. She placed it on the kitchen table. It was the last one ever taken, in Year Eleven. Sitting together, she and Olly scoured the rows. He pointed her out, hair short and spiky. Her eyes narrowed. Three rows up, the air of arrogance jumped off the print. She pointed to Hugo.
Olly got up. Took the photo into the hallway and stood in front of the mirror, by the front door. He looked in it. Studied the photo again. Olly came back, and sat down.
‘I’ve got his nose, the same shaped ears. It’s… weird seeing someone else who looks like me.’
‘Weird in a good way?’
‘It’s like… I’m part of something bigger. How long did you and him…?’
‘It’s hard to explain.’
Olly pushed away the photo. ‘I’m listening.’
Morgan studied his face, the shadow forming where he’d need to shave tomorrow morning, the hickey on his neck. He was older now than she’d been when she slept with Hugo, older than her three friends when they’d also been duped by him.
She pressed her palms against each other. ‘Your father was a good-looking lad. Very charismatic, popular with pupils and teachers, he was good at sport, but you should know, love… he wasn’t perfect and there’s a reason I didn’t want to tell you about him. You see, The Secret Gift Society revealed he was cheating on the head’s daughter and…’
Olly’s expression didn’t change as she explained how he lost the football captaincy, and then how he got his revenge and fooled the four girls, how they’d betrayed each other. When she’d finished, Morgan downed her glass of water. Olly got up and sat in the chair next to her. A single tear ran down his cheek.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘It must be hard to find out all that about your dad.’
‘That’s not it. This is the first time you’ve treated me like an adult. Finally trusted me to cope. Let me in.’
She covered his hand with hers. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier. I do trust you, love. I’m so proud of the young man you’ve become but… it’s always been the two of us. Protecting you has always been at the forefront of my mind, even when you didn’t need it so much any more. It’s been hard to let go, and I’m wary of introducing you to a man who hurt me… hurt my friends. Of course, we don’t know what your dad’s like now. We were all silly kids back then…’
‘What are the other girls’ names?’
