I rub my nose as my eyes prickle. ‘She’s going through something. Her mum—’
‘She told me about that...’ he interjects.
‘Then you know she’s going to need support in the coming weeks. You can’t cut and run, Ash. I mean it.’
‘I won’t,’ he says steadily. ‘She can lean on me and trust me. I’ll be there for her.’
My heart feels painful, like it’s being squeezed by an unseen fist.
‘Well, I ... I might go for a walk,’ I manage, feeling like I need to leave this conversation before I start blubbering all over Ash.
‘OK, I’m going to have a quick shower and make Rach a cup of tea.’
‘She has it white with half a sugar.’
Ash smiles. ‘Yeah, she told me.’
‘OK, well ... see you.’
‘Yep, see you when you get back.’
He saunters into the bathroom and closes the door. The shower starts up.
I shuffle past Rach’s room, but I can’t do it. I can’t not say goodbye to my mum. I knock softly and poke my head in. The room is filled with muted sunlight, and a nearby poster of Tommy Rains pouts at me.
‘Hey, Rach. I’m off for a walk since it’s nice out.’
A sleepy voice emerges from the depths of the duvet. ‘OK, Jadey. I’m having a lie-in. Enjoy your walk.’
She doesn’t mention Ash, and neither do I.
‘I will ... I ... I love you, Rach.’
There’s a movement in the duvet, and her face pops up, framed by mussed chestnut hair. Her brown eyes are curious, no doubt wondering why I’m saying that. But she says, ‘I love you too, Jadey.’
‘Bye,’ I choke out and shut the door before I collapse in a snivelling heap on her bedroom floor.
Dressing quickly in black jeans, a double-studded belt, and a neon-pink off-the-shoulder top, I check my look in the dressing table mirror.
My eyes are a mess, bloodshot and sore-looking.It’s from wearing too much kohl eyeliner, I tell myself. Scrabbling around in the dresser, I find a pair of yellow heart-shaped sunglasses, which give my room a rose-tinted glow when I put them on. Just what I need.
I let myself out of the flat, taking a long last look at my mum’s bedroom window, and try not to cry again. This is ridiculous. I have to move on. If I wallow in the past, I’ll miss out on what’s waiting for me in the future. Whatever that is. Besides, I need to go home—Iwantto go home. I miss Netflix. I miss my iPhone. I willnotthink about sitting alone in my apartment, eating pizza, and looking at Sebastian’s number in said iPhone. It will probably get magically erased anyway.
Feeling numb, I aimlessly walk around Camden until I find myself outside the Tube. Having nothing better to do, I board the next train and sit there, rocking gently, surrounded by couples and families going about their ’80s lives. I tryreallyhard, but I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for myself. At what I’ve left behind: Rach. And what I know I’m never going to have: Sebastian. But maybe I can make the best of what I do get. One thing’s for sure: I’m never getting a perm ever again.
33
JADE
ItfeelslikeIsit on the train forever. Watching the doors open and close. I don’t even know where I’m going, but I think it’s south. Then an older woman laden with M&S shopping bags gets on and stands in front of me so that I can’t miss her. I look up, feeling a bit out of it.
‘I think you should get off now so I can have your seat,’ she says not unkindly. ‘Look at all these bags. I can’t possibly stand, and you’ve been on here a while.’
I nod automatically. It’s true, I have. But I’m not sure how she knows that. Maybe she saw me before she got off to go shopping?
I stand unsteadily and grasp the pole.
‘Belsize Park,’ she says with a nod. ‘That’s your stop.’