A Kiss in the Dark (21 page)

She flopped down on the bed next to me, leaving her clothes strewn across the carpet. ‘God, Kate, this is all
so
weird. He seemed so
devoted
to you, you know?’ I nodded dully. ‘He was like a puppy, watching your every move and trying to work out what you wanted him to do.’ This was not the first time Astrid had used the puppy analogy. I didn’t like it any more than I had the last time. ‘I mean, what kind of guy ditches his girlfriend
before
he gets laid?! This must be the first time it’s happened in the whole history of the world … Sorry, am I being insensitive?’

Astrid often asked things like this, as if by doing so she negated anything insensitive or downright
offensive she’d just said. I shook my head and she carried on. ‘I
told
you there was something off about him, didn’t I?’

‘Congratulations, you were right. I’m very happy for you,’ I deadpanned.

‘Sorry! It’s just that if there’s one thing I know, it’s people. I’m like a human weirdo detector or something. Although Justin thought there was something strange about Alex too, now that I think about it.’ This was news to me. It seemed like I was the only person who hadn’t had suspicions about Alex. With every excruciating minute that passed I felt more and more foolish. ‘Oh God, sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear about Justin right now. Don’t worry, you can still hang out with us.’

‘Thanks.’ She may have been a human weirdo detector but Astrid was oddly oblivious to sarcasm.

‘So let’s get down to business.’ Astrid propped herself up on her elbows and an evil grin spread across her face. ‘What are we going to do to him?’ She shook her head at my confused expression. ‘Well we can’t just let him get away with this, can we? No one hurts my best friend and gets away with it.’

I sighed. ‘We’re not going to
do
anything. You can’t force someone to stay in a relationship with you.’

‘Maybe not, but you can punish them when they
dump you by text the night before you’re supposed to shag for the first time.’

Astrid had probably already started plotting some hugely involved, intricate plan for revenge – complete with maps and diagrams. There was only one way to stop her in her tracks, and thankfully the tears came easily. ‘I just want to forget about him, Astrid – act like this whole thing never happened … like he doesn’t even exist.’

Astrid thrives on drama but she doesn’t like crying unless she’s the one doing it. For some reason it makes her really uncomfortable. ‘Oh don’t cry! It’s going to be OK, I promise. Um … do you want a Diet Coke or something?’

I mournfully shook my head and cried a little bit more. Astrid patted my shoulder. I sniffed. ‘Sorry. It’s just hard, you know? Can we maybe talk about something else for a bit?’ I scrambled around in my brain for another topic of conversation. ‘Have you done that assignment for English?’

The look of horror on Astrid’s face was so funny that I had to smile. ‘Shit! I completely forgot about it!
Shit
. What am I going to do?’ She jumped up from the bed, hurried over to her desk and started rifling through a precarious pile of books and folders.

I checked the time on my phone. 4.03 p.m. We
were going back to school the next day and English was our first lesson. I’d finished the assignment the first day of the Christmas holidays. ‘It’s OK, you’ve got time. As long as you’ve read the book … you
have
read the book, haven’t you?’

Of course she hadn’t read the book. Astrid was usually able to charm her way around being late with her homework, but our English teacher, Ms Churchill, didn’t take any crap from her – or from anyone for that matter. Ms Churchill was obsessed with preparing us for the ‘real world’. She said, ‘You’re not children anymore and I refuse to treat you as such.’ Apparently handing in your essays late was frowned upon in the real world.

Astrid started freaking out, although it was hard to tell how much of the freaking out was genuine and how much was down to her love of the dramatic. She asked if she could read my assignment ‘just for an idea of what we should be doing’, but she wasn’t surprised when I said no.

‘Look, I’ve got the study guide if you want to borrow it. It won’t be perfect but I think you can probably get away with not reading the book.’ Astrid wasn’t looking convinced, so I forged on. ‘If you want, you can email me your first draft tonight and I’ll take a look at it.’

That clinched it. She knew I’d fix all her mistakes, even if it took me all night. It actually felt good to be helping her out; I wouldn’t mind working on her essay if it took my mind off Alex for a few hours.

I said I’d run home to get the study guide but Astrid insisted on coming with me to save time. ‘Every second counts!’ That’s when I knew she was really enjoying this. In her mind the situation had transformed into a life-or-death race against time.

I’d already decided that Astrid would wait outside while I went in to get the book, just to make sure Mum wouldn’t have the opportunity to say something like ‘Isn’t it
awful
that Kate’s boyfriend turned out not to be a boy after all?’ or ‘So Astrid, do
you
think Kate might be a lesbian?’ I didn’t actually think there was any chance of Mum saying either of those things – she knew I wanted to keep this whole thing secret – but my paranoia had reached epic levels.

We ran the whole way to my house because that’s what Astrid wanted to do. She was much faster than me; I was well behind her when she turned the corner on to my road. So I was surprised to find her running back towards me, looking genuinely worried. ‘Oh my God, Kate, I think something’s happened!’

I had no idea what she was talking about but panic flooded my body all the same. She grabbed my
arm and pulled me round the corner. I saw the police car first. It was very shiny and parked right outside my house. Then I saw a policeman with his hat wedged under his arm. He was standing at my front door, which was open. My first thought was something had happened to Mum while I’d been at Astrid’s, but then I thought there probably would have been an ambulance instead of a police car. My second thought was Dad. In the few seconds it took us to get to the house I’d convinced myself that Dad was dead. A car crash or a house fire or a burglary gone wrong. But then I saw Mum standing in the doorway and she didn’t look like she’d been crying. No matter how she felt about Dad now, I was sure she would cry if she found out he was dead. Mum’s eyes flitted from me to Astrid and back again as we stood on the path desperately trying to get our breath back. Mum may not have been crying, but she definitely looked worried. Mags emerged from inside and put a hand on Mum’s shoulder. What the hell was
she
doing here?

‘Mum? What’s happened?’ I asked in a shaky voice. The policeman turned towards us. He was young and very good-looking; his jaw was very square, like it would sit nicely on a mantelpiece.

The policeman turned back to Mum. ‘I take it this
is your daughter?’ Not exactly a brilliant deduction seeing as I’d just called Mum
Mum
.

Mum nodded and looked nervously up and down the street. ‘Why don’t we go back inside? Um … Astrid, I think you’d better be getting home. Mags, could you maybe–’

‘Mum? What’s going on?’

The policeman straightened his shoulders and coughed. ‘My name is PC Mason. I was just talking to your mother about the allegations against …’ He winced because he had to look down at the little black notebook he was holding. ‘Miss Alex Banks?’

I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see Astrid’s face. ‘
Miss?!
’

I barged into the house past Mum and Mags. I slammed the door to my room so hard my panda calendar fell on the floor.

There was no end to this nightmare. Astrid
knew
. By tomorrow lunchtime everyone at school would know and I would be a laughing stock. I wanted to die. I bet Astrid was already planning who to tell: Justin first, then Stella. She’d probably want to tell everyone else in person so she could see the looks on their faces. As I lay on my bed I kept expecting a knock at the door and for Astrid to come in and start grilling me, or at least ask for the study notes. But then I realized all thoughts of doing the assignment would have disappeared from her head immediately. Knowing Astrid she’d probably tell Ms Churchill she’d been unable to complete the essay because she’d been so
traumatized
by my situation.

Astrid was all I could think about, even when I heard voices coming from the hallway. Mum and Mags. I had to keep thinking about Astrid because if I stopped thinking about Astrid I would be thinking about why my mother had called the police and what on earth I was going to say to them.

The voices outside my door were muffled so I crept over to the door.

‘I practically had to barricade the door to keep that Astrid girl out. Anyway, I sent her off home and she swore she wouldn’t tell a soul.’ Mags had never met Astrid before so she had no idea how unlikely that was. ‘You did the right thing, Belinda. You didn’t have a choice.’

‘But did you see the look she gave me? She hates me!’ Mum sounded like she was crying.

‘She’s a
teenager
! Hating parents is part of the job description. But seriously, she’ll thank you for this one day. Sometimes we have to be the ones to make the tough decisions.’

I couldn’t hear what Mum said next no matter how hard I pressed my ear to the door. Then I heard Mags saying she’d better be heading off or she’d miss her train. Mum thanked her, saying she wouldn’t have been able to handle this alone. Then I heard the front door open and close and she was gone. Presumably the
policeman was still lurking around somewhere but I couldn’t hear him.

I lay back down on the bed, pulling the duvet on top of me as if it could shield me from this mess. I hadn’t meant for this to happen. I hadn’t meant to lie – Mum had just got the wrong end of the stick. I should have put her right, but I was so desperate for her to stop questioning my sexuality. And I was angry with Alex – of course I was. But if I’d thought that Mum would do something insane like calling the police I’d never have let her go on thinking Alex had forced me into anything. I genuinely thought she’d want to forget all about it – how could I have been so unbelievably naïve? I should have known she’d talk to Mags – those two told each other everything. Mum was always going to her for advice. She treated Mags like some kind of Yoda figure for some bizarre reason.
Of course
she’d tell her. And of course Mags would say she should call the police. I should have seen this coming.

There was a knock at the door and Mum didn’t wait for an answer before coming into the room. She said nothing for a minute or two, so I was forced to come out from under the duvet to see what she was up to. Mum didn’t look like she’d been crying, but it was always difficult to tell with her. ‘Look, before
you say anything … I know you’re not happy about this but it’s the right thing to do. It
is
. We can’t let that …
girl
… get away with this.’ I started to speak but Mum held up her hand to silence me. ‘
No
. You have to listen to me. What if she targets someone else, just because you did nothing? How would you feel then?’ She sounded so sure about it all – forceful almost. The uncertainty that had been in her voice when she’d talked to Mags was nowhere to be found.

There was so much I wanted to say but what was the point? I had no one to blame but myself. I’d set this in motion and there was nothing I could do about it now. Mum sat down next to me on the bed and brushed my hair from my face. Her face was softer all of a sudden. ‘You don’t want this hanging over you for the rest of your life. It’ll haunt you, Kate … trust me.’

Trust me
. I couldn’t let myself think about what she meant by that. So I let my mother lead me by the hand from my bedroom. I knew I should just tell her the truth, let her explain everything to the policeman and make him go away so he could catch some real criminals. I
knew
that was what I should do, yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was a coward.

There were three empty mugs on the coffee table in the living room. PC Mason, Mum and Mags had clearly been having a good old chat before I arrived.
PC Mason was examining a photo on the shelf above the TV. I think he was looking for clues. His hat was still wedged under his arm and I wondered if it was against the rules to put it down in case anyone stole it. He turned and smiled when he realized Mum had managed to wrangle me from my room. I think the smile was supposed to be reassuring, but it was anything but.

Mum asked him if he’d like another cup of tea and you could tell he wanted to say yes but there was probably some rule about that too. Mum didn’t bother asking if
I
wanted a cup of tea. We sat on the sofa and she clamped her hand on to my knee. PC Mason made to put down the photo but it fell over and dislodged one of Mum’s favourite ornaments. He moved lightning fast to catch it but dropped his hat in the process. He stuttered and apologized and two little red patches appeared on his cheeks, making him look about twelve years old. He replaced the ornament and the photo frame and stuttered an apology. He picked up his hat and brushed off some invisible dust, probably offending Mum in the process.

Finally he was sitting across from us and asking whether it was OK if he could ask me some questions. I nodded and Mum gave my knee a squeeze of approval. ‘Good girl,’ she whispered.

‘Right, this shouldn’t take too long. I’m just going to need a few more details – hear it from the horse’s mouth, as it were.’ He looked vaguely embarrassed saying this. ‘OK. Can you tell me the suspect’s full name, age and address?’

The suspect
. Alex was now a suspect. I guess that meant that I was now a victim. I told him Alex’s name, age and address and apologized for not knowing the postcode, as if he was going to send her a greetings card (
Congratulations! You’ve been accused of a crime you didn’t commit!
).

PC Mason asked me to briefly describe the nature of the offence. He said he appreciated this might be difficult, then he looked at Mum. She gave my knee another squeeze. ‘Go ahead, sweetheart.’