Page 31 of When We Were Friends
‘Flowers,’ said Emily. ‘Mum was jealous. She didn’t like the idea of her daughter getting male attention.’
‘He bought me a small solar-powered calculator.’ Morgan raised her hands in the air. ‘But now it’s obvious we betrayed each other for the deepest of reasons. Hugo gave us so much more than presents, like relatability, a feeling we weren’t alone. He cut through the surface, tapped into things no one else saw: Emily’s hate for her mum, Tiff’s non-acceptance of herself, the pressure on Paige over her image, how Ididwant to be fancied.’ Morgan collapsed into her armchair. ‘We’ve punished each other, all these years, for simply being vulnerable teenagers.’
When it was dark outside, they got up and worked as team, like they used to, preparing dinner. Morgan lay the table, forks on the left, knives on the right. Before she knew it, Tiff had swapped them around: an old quirk of hers. Paige beat eggs, tentatively thrown to her by Morgan, one by one. Paige couldn’t help but smile at their teen routine that often ended up with yolk on the floor and an angry dad or mum. Emily put out drinks and folded the napkins so that they stood up like fans. Paige’s parents always used to ask her to do it if she was over and they were having a dinner party. And not unlike the old days, when Tiff sliced a baguette, she cut her finger and shook it dramatically in the air, shooting Emily a pointed look. Emily rolled her eyes and disappeared. Minutes later, she came back with a plaster and antibiotic wipes.
They ate, washed up, pulled on their coats, went outside and sat by the pool. Paige took out a packet of cigarettes, offered them around and then smoked alone. Morgan tracked the pool’s ripples of water. What wasted years. If the truth had been revealed back then, surely they could have repaired the damage? Surrounding trees rustled as the mistral wind whispered against the leaves, perhaps telling secrets and spreading rumours. Perhaps spreading news of their arrival in France, to Hugo?
Would he scarper? Relish a confrontation? Issue an instant apology? Had he become a man worthy of her son?Theirson. Morgan shivered.
A round to oval green leaf, with raggedy edges, blew across the ground by their feet as rain started to spit. It was the same shape as the leaves on a hazel tree, like the one by the disused basement at Dailsworth High. The hazel tree was steeped in myths. It represented wisdom, inspiration. The girls used to think it no coincidence that that was their meeting place. On more whimsical days, they’d say its magic had brought them together. Morgan went to pick it up but Emily beat her to it, peered at the leaf in her hand and gently ran her thumb across it.
18
PAIGE, EMILY, TIFF
Paige sat in front of the dressing table mirror and yawned. They’d closed the shutters. The rain fell harder. Now that the four of them were opening up, it was time to tell Morgan what she’d been hiding.
She put down the hairbrush and turned around to Morgan, who was on the bed, scrolling on her phone. ‘There’s something about me that might be a shock.’
Morgan looked up. ‘Shoot. If we can get through talking about our past and Year Eleven, we can get through anything.’ Her voice wavered. ‘Things have been… tough for me, in recent months. Every hour us four spend together… it’s more than I could have ever hoped for. It’s… healing.’
‘Right. Okay. Here goes… um… these days, I… I…’Healing. Morgan had said that. Could Paige really blow everything apart again? ‘These days I… shop at Primark,’ she blurted out.
Morgan burst out laughing. ‘Is that it? Oh, very funny. I can’t imagine that. Sorry, but your April Fool’s joke didn’t work. Whereas I’m still a big fan. That store has been a lifesaver with the cost of living crisis.’
Yet the first thing that had come into Paige’s head happened to be true. The pound shop was a favourite too, as she saved for her and Felix’s detached home. Also, because, at the back of her mind, she wanted to build up a money pot so that if his job ever became too much, he could hand his notice in and they’d have enough to cover bills. Not that he would. Felix had always been stubborn – or ‘determined’, as he preferred to call it. He’d pursued her steadfastly in the early days, asking her out until she said yes.
‘What do you think is going on with Emily?’ asked Paige. ‘Perhaps the doctors got it wrong about her mum. But then the idea of her mother still being alive seems far-fetched, and why would her surviving such a terrible illness cause a big rift between them?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps money was tight and they couldn’t afford a big send-off. Maybe her dad was made redundant, on top of everything else.’ Morgan lay back on the covers. ‘I need to digest everything that’s come out – how blasé teenage Tiff really had body image issues, and you, Paige, the most self-assured, collected person in the school, suffered from a pressure invisible to me, caused by your parents’ status, their wealth…’ She took off her watch. ‘Do you think we’d still be friends, if everything with Hugo hadn’t happened?’
‘I reckon we would have gone to uni together.’
‘That would have been fun. I’ve taken my maths A-level now, done evening courses, you know. Olly’s passion is physics. I’ve always been interested in it, but nothing like he is. I’m excited to see where he goes from here.’
‘You could still go to university,’ said Paige.
‘If I win the lottery. I’ve Olly’s education to contribute to, for three years at least, before I can even think about going taking a degree myself. Student loans don’t cover everything.’
‘You could both work part-time. It’s important to make plans for the future, isn’t it? Just for you? Not to lose yourself. I see that so many times in my line of work. As people age, they lose self-belief. Their body language becomes closed, their heads drop, shoulders droop, they acquire an apologetic air, they don’t meet the gaze of people they pass in the street as if, somehow, they aren’t worthy of an interaction. Don’t do that, Morgan. Olly moving out could be the start of a new chapter – for both of you.’
‘Not in a world where every penny counts and you’ll skip eating so that you can treat your kid, or you’ll hide money problems from your own parents because they’d do the same.’
Paige couldn’t find the words to reply.
Morgan got up. ‘Do you want me to get changed in the bathroom?’
‘No, it’s fine.’
Facing Paige, she took off her top to put on her pyjamas. Her arms weren’t as stick-thin now, but she was as pale as ever, with that small, brown birthmark on the right of her stomach in the shape of a hedgehog.
‘Has there been anyone special over the years?’ asked Paige. Had Morgan always had to manage alone? Paige had her own money, her own independence, but couldn’t imagine living without her husband. When it came to Paige, his ability to read people far outstripped hers and more than once, he’d come home with a bunch of flowers, having detected a low mood simply from the way she’d poured a cup of coffee.
Morgan told her about Den as she folded her clothes, then asked about Felix.
‘Our eyes met at a gin stall at the Christmas markets. It was snowing and we ended up buying a hot chocolate and standing talking.’ Paige went into the bathroom but left the door open. ‘Every anniversary we have gin in hot chocolate to mark the occasion. It’s a combination that goes surprisingly well.’ She brushed her teeth and got into bed. ‘Do you mind if I turn the lights out? Felix and I had a late one last night.’ She and Morgan used to have the best sleepovers. They didn’t paint nails or watch romcoms. Instead, they’d often just gaze at the stars. Paige had a really cool loft room with a window in the roof. They learnt to recognise Jupiter and Venus and would spot aeroplanes and satellites. In the darkness, they’d imagine aliens staring in, concluding humans were odd creatures. Would they work out that eyebrows were to stop sweat running into eyes, or that hair was to keep the head warm and cushion the skull?
Takeout pizza in boxes was another treat. Paige’s parents weren’t fans of eating off cardboard but would let them have it when Morgan slept over. As midnight approached, they’d process their school week. The smarmy English teacher who sucked up to Paige, having met her parents and found out her dad was on some board at Rolls Royce. When Jasmine had bumped into her in the canteen, knocking over her orange juice. It went through her skirt and knickers, sweet and sticky, followed by bitchy comments that Mummy’s designer label could easily provide her with new clothes. Whereas Morgan would talk about those girls taunting her for having supermarket own brand items in her lunchbox. Or she’d mention one of the popular boys who’d always ruffle her short hair and push past, sniggering, ‘Watch out, sonny.’ They’d chat about the fun times too, like the history teacher and language assistant who were dating and sent silly notes to each other via the pupils who had their lessons back-to-back.
