Forget Me Never (3 page)

‘Mum, you know that’s stereotypical bullshit.’

‘Less of the language!’ Mum snapped, quickly looking at Neve to see if she was listening. She wasn’t. ‘Picked up at Broom Hill, no doubt; it’s a good job
you’re out of that place. I never liked your having to mix with those kids from the Raspberry Valley Estate.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘You didn’t mind me going there before we got Dad’s life-insurance money.’

‘Oh, don’t go on, Reece! I was only trying to be helpful.’ She smiled, patting the sofa seat next to her. ‘Why don’t we watch a film together once Neve’s in
bed? I could make some popcorn.’

As I yawned my way through
Pride and Prejudice
with my mother, I hoped Sophie was OK. She could do funny things when she was in a mood. I sent her an email, and several more texts over
the next few days. She didn’t reply. So eventually I decided to leave it. That Saturday I went out with my Berkeley mates rather than to Paloma’s party.

When the next week went by without any contact from Sophie, I got the message. So I did something I never do and gave up.

And now, months later, Sophie had emailed me. I didn’t need to mull things over. I knew what my response was going to be.

Long time no speak, I typed. How’s this afternoon?

By the time I got off the bus at Muswell Hill, it was a quarter past five. The Broadway was just as I remembered – but then, why would it have changed? It hadn’t
been
that
long since I’d last been to Reece’s. It was one of the nicest days of summer so far – warm but not sweltering – and I was enjoying the feeling of the sun on
my legs. I was wearing denim shorts, a long-sleeved polka-dot top I’d made from what had once been an oversize dress, and a sunhat with a wide brim – all charity-shop stuff.

Reece’s house was about ten minutes from the Broadway, but he’d asked me to meet him at the school cricket pitch. The club he played for was an independent one but they used
Berkeley’s facilities for their practice sessions. This didn’t fit in with my plans of showing him Dani’s photos, but it was easier to come to his neck of the woods – I
could always leave if things got too awkward.

I’d been to Reece’s school several times before. It’s one of those old red-brick buildings with fancy doorway arches and stained-glass windows, and there are statues of former
headmasters dotted about the grounds that stare at you disapprovingly. Berkeley is way up the education league tables; you can only go there if you’re loaded.

I started dragging my feet as I got closer. I felt mixed-up – nervous, hesitant and slightly resentful. I never liked going near Berkeley – it reminded me of just how little I had.
And what would it be like seeing Reece again after all this time? Everything to do with him – the memories, the in-jokes – I’d closed myself off from them, put them into a little
mental box with a sticker that said ‘over’ on it. I wasn’t sure how it would feel to open that box again. Everything that had happened still hurt. I knew Reece probably
didn’t see it that way – but he didn’t know the full story.

I saw Reece before he saw me. All the boys on the field were wearing cricket whites and for a moment I wasn’t sure which one he was. It looked like practice had just broken up – half
the players were hanging around chatting while the others were clearing up. I stood a little way back, hoping they wouldn’t notice. I knew Reece’s friends looked down on me. But one of
them spotted me and said something, sniggering. Reece gave him a withering look and came over, tucking his bat under his arm. For an awkward moment we sort of hovered in front of each other, not
quite sure whether there was going to be a hug or not.

‘So . . .’ Reece let the word hang in the air a moment and it became obvious there wasn’t. ‘That was a very random email this morning. What gives?’

He looked quite different from how he had three months ago, mainly because he was wearing his hair in a side parting. It made him look a lot older; I wasn’t sure I liked that – and I definitely didn’t like that his voice had picked up a hint of the clear-cut, posh way his friends spoke. The
other change was that he’d grown. One of Reece’s big gripes had always been that I was taller than him – but then I was taller than most people in our year, including the boys. I
still had a good inch on him though.

‘I wanted to speak to you,’ I said.

‘Evidently. Must be something fairly seismic. You made it pretty clear after the play you didn’t want anything to do with me.’

Reece’s friends passed us, grinning. One of them wolf-whistled.

‘Shut up, you ignorant tossers!’ Reece called after them.

‘Like I said in the email, it’s about Danielle,’ I said, ignoring Reece’s jibe about us not speaking, and I started explaining what was on the memory stick. Reece arched
his eyebrows and I realized how wishy-washy it all sounded. It probably looked like I was making a lame excuse to see him again.

‘I see,’ Reece said. ‘In that case, you’d better come back to mine, hadn’t you?’

Reece’s road was, by anyone’s standards, a lovely place to live, with big, detached and very expensive new-build houses, just a short walk from Berkeley. I was sure
that Reece’s mum Effie, arch-snob, had chosen it for that reason. She sang the school’s praises so regularly that I was surprised they hadn’t asked her to write their
prospectus.

Reece unlocked the door. The hallway smelt of air freshener and there was a wooden rack for those entering to place their shoes. The walls were lined with precisely arranged photographs in
identical frames. At the end was a big picture of Colin, Reece’s dad. I’d always liked that one because, unlike the others, mostly school photos of Reece, it looked natural, with Colin
glancing over his shoulder, half amused, half surprised. He had been a nice guy, Colin.

‘I’m going to have a shower,’ Reece announced, dumping his sports kit at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Get yourself a drink and then we’ll check out the memory
stick.’

‘Reece?’ It was Effie. It sounded as if her voice was coming from the sitting room. ‘Who are you talking to?’

‘Mum? Weren’t you supposed to be out?’

‘I was waiting for you. Meg says she’s not well and can’t take Neve, so I was hoping you’d stay in with her, else I’ll have to miss my class. Did you leave your
phone at home again?’ Effie bustled into the hallway. Her face froze when she saw me and I gave a nervous laugh.

‘Sophie,’ Effie said, her expression fixing into a polite smile. ‘What a surprise. Haven’t seen you for a while.’

‘Be back down in ten,’ Reece said, and headed up the stairs. Oh, great – cheers, Reece, I thought murderously.

‘Put those sweaty cricket clothes in the linen basket this time, not on the floor!’ Effie turned to me. I had to give it to her – Effie was looking good. She’d had a rich
auburn colour put on her hair, and while the T-shirt and denim skirt she wore were casual, they were well cut and obviously expensive. I suppose if I had money to splash about like she did, I might
give myself a makeover too.

‘Would you like a drink?’ Effie asked, heading to the kitchen. ‘We have juice or lemonade, or I’m sure Reece wouldn’t mind you having one of his disgusting energy
drinks.’

‘Lemonade’s fine.’ I followed her through. A small girl was sitting at the breakfast bar, busily scribbling away on coloured sugar paper. She looked up when I entered.

‘Neve, do you remember Sophie?’ Effie said, going to the cupboard and taking out a glass. ‘Reece’s friend.’

Neve gave me a sly look and put the end of a crayon in her mouth. ‘Secret,’ she said.

‘What are you talking about?’ Effie asked, but Neve said she wasn’t telling. I slid on to one of the seats. Neve must have had her third birthday by now – I remembered
when she was a tiny ugly-looking thing with squinty eyes, that just cried a lot. She looked quite a lot like Reece now, I thought.

‘Where did you go?’ Neve asked as I accepted the drink Effie poured for me.

‘Nowhere special. Just getting on with things.’ I hoped Reece wasn’t going to take a long shower.

‘What things?’

‘Things things,’ I said.

‘Things things things!’ Neve laughed. ‘I’m going to draw you!’

She got out a fresh piece of paper and grabbed the purple crayon, even though I wasn’t wearing anything that colour. Glad that Neve wasn’t going to press the issue of where exactly
I’d been, I looked at Effie. She was watching me, lips pursed.

‘So, er, how are you?’ I asked. I had to say something – the heavy silence was making my skin prickle.

‘Very well, thank you for asking,’ Effie said rather primly. ‘And how are you?’

‘OK.’

‘Are you enjoying life with your new family?’

She made it sound as though I’d purchased Julie in a shop.

‘They’re not exactly new,’ I said. ‘I’ve been there a year and a half now. But yeah, it’s fine.’

‘How do foster-homes work exactly? Do they have you until you turn eighteen and then they leave you to get on with things?’

What a way with words she had. I avoided the temptation to answer sarcastically and explained about my Pathway Plan, though I didn’t go into details. I knew Effie was only asking so she
could turn her nose up. She’d never liked me. According to her, I had ‘problems’ and ‘a bad background’. I’d heard her and Colin talking about it one night when
I was about twelve – they hadn’t known Reece and I were in the next room.

Effie switched the conversation to my studies and I filled her in on my A-level choices. We were searching for something else to say when Neve interrupted by waving her masterpiece in my face.
The sugar paper showed a stick woman wearing a massive pair of shorts, with dark hair that fell to the ground and some sort of mask on her face.

‘That’s great, Neve! Am I a superhero or a burglar?’ I asked.

‘Burglar.’

‘Ah right, what did I steal?’

‘Cakes,’ Neve said. ‘Cream ones.’

Reece appeared in T-shirt and jeans, rubbing his hair with a towel.

‘Right, let’s go up,’ he said, grabbing a bottle of Lucozade from the fridge and dumping the towel on the counter. ‘See you later, Mum.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Effie said. ‘I’m off in an hour. Are you going to stay in for Neve?’

Reece sighed and huffed, which Effie seemed to take as acceptance. ‘If you and Sophie want dinner later, I’ll leave some cash out. There are takeaway menus in the drawer.’

I followed Reece up to his room. Like the rest of the house, it was neat and tidy, though this was probably down to the cleaner. Books, mainly textbooks and sports autobiographies, were neatly
lined up on the shelves. The top one was reserved for the collection of old
Beano
and
Dandy
annuals that had belonged to Reece’s dad.

Reece flipped on the flash new computer that sat on the desk. It had been his birthday a few weeks ago – I guessed the computer had been a present. He pulled up a stool next to his swivel
chair.

‘Let’s have a look at this USB then. Better do it pronto, before Mum offs and leaves me babysitting the poddling.’

‘Look, Reece . . . you don’t have to be so
businesslike
about all this. I know you’re pissed off with me, but this passive-aggressive stuff is a pain.’ As soon as
the words came out I regretted them.

Reece scowled. ‘Why shouldn’t I be passive-aggressive and businesslike? You’re the one who ditched me for no reason.’

‘Not for no reason. You let me down.’

‘How? I made time for you when I moved schools. I was there!’

‘Not the night of Paloma’s party, you weren’t. You were out with your new friends, having a whale of a time, judging by the Facebook photos.’

‘What’s the big deal? Did something happen at the party? You told me at the play that you weren’t even going.’

‘Look, I didn’t come to talk about that! Stop going on.’

Reece muttered something, then to my surprise shut up. I handed him the USB. A little gruffly I said, ‘Look in the party folder, ninth photo.’

He opened it up. I watched him frown at the screen. He paused, then flicked through a few more pictures. Impatient, I said, ‘Come on, you must know. Is it him, d’you
reckon?’

‘Oh, he’s the dude from town all right. But . . .’ Reece hesitated. ‘I’m pretty certain – ninety per cent sure – that this is the same bloke that came
by the flat too. The one who rang the bell for Danielle when we were getting ready to leave.’

‘What? How can you tell?’

‘Got a look at him out of the window, didn’t I? OK, so we were four floors up and it was a few months ago, but I’d swear to it. Didn’t connect them at the time. So
what’s the deal with this, Soph? D’you think he had something to do with – you know . . . ?’

I hesitated. It was a good question – and I was almost afraid of answering it.

Slowly I said, ‘Maybe . . . I mean, think about it. There was the scene in town, when she was upset to see him. Then the next day she went off with him when he called at the flat. A couple
of hours later she jumps off that balcony. That’s no coincidence, right? And it’s not the only thing that bugs me. Remember what the eyewitness said in the inquest report? That old
lady? She saw Dani fall – back first. Why backwards?’ I paused. ‘And . . . aside from that, I’ve been thinking. I’m not convinced that Dani
was
depressed enough
to take her own life. I accepted it to begin with, but don’t you remember what she was like that weekend? She was talking about the things she wanted to buy when she got paid, about the
future. Would someone suicidal do that? I’m not saying anything sinister went on – but I’m just not convinced it’s so simple. Dani seemed fine.’

‘Might have
seemed
fine. Doesn’t mean she was. Anyway, aren’t you implying that this guy gave her a reason to do it?’

‘Maybe – I don’t know.’ Suddenly embarrassed, I looked away. Ridiculous – coming here with crazy theories when I hadn’t spoken to Reece in months. I needed to
find someone else to dump on – I probably sounded a bit hysterical.

‘I’ll go,’ I said, getting to my feet. ‘Thanks for helping.’

I was almost at the door when Reece said, ‘Sure you’ve been OK?’