Jenn Ashworth - Cold Light

‘Heartbreak Hotel’s that way,’ he said. ‘Tell her to turn it down, will you?’

I could hear the tinny noise of TOTP on the colour portable and I walked towards it. The mantelpiece in the front room was decked with get well soon cards from the other girls and before I had the chance to wonder who had brought them round, I heard Emma’s voice.

‘Shanks’ll get you out of PE for a bit when you come back, you lucky bitch,’ she said, and they were laughing as I went through.

‘Who let you in?’ Chloe said venomously.

She and Emma were sitting on the small wicker love-seat, with their feet in matching pink slipper socks up on the wicker coffee table. She’d opened up her Christmas selection boxes and the floor around them was scattered with screwed-up funsize Crunchie wrappers.

I smiled and sat down on the leather pouffe.

‘You’re in the way of the telly.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ I said meekly. ‘I just wanted to see if you were all right. They let you out of hospital?’

‘Obviously.’

Emma was keeping quiet. To show willing, I caught her eye and smiled at her, feeling vile and small and creeping. So the plan to get Chloe and Carl apart had backfired. Fine. But I needed friends now more than ever, and if that meant learning to like Emma, well then, so be it.

‘What are you watching?’

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ Chloe said lightly, and leaned back into the love-seat. ‘Pass me that jug, will you?’

I handed her the jug of juice from the coffee table and Emma held up her beaker while she poured herself a glass of it.

‘I can’t believe what you did to me. I can’t believe it. You shouldn’t even be here.’

Her teeth were brown with chocolate.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ I said. ‘I was upset. I was stressed.’ I glanced at Emma. Did she know about Wilson and what had happened on Boxing Day? Did she know the whole thing was my fault? It was so hard to know what to say, what not to say.

‘Shut up,’ Chloe said. ‘We’re in here trying to work out how I can get in touch with Carl when I can’t leave the house and they’ve put a block on the house phone and you’re fucking me off whining about how stressed you are. What have you got to be stressed about?’ I opened my mouth but she went on, ‘Nothing, that’s what. It’s my life that’s been ruined, not yours.’

‘The house phone is blocked off. You need a pin number to make outgoing calls. Her dad set it up,’ Emma explained. ‘And they’ve not told her what else – how long she’s grounded for. They’re waiting until she feels better and they’ve discussed it,’ she added darkly.

It was obvious she had been helping Chloe with her plan of action when it came to evading whatever punishment Chloe’s parents decided on. And that wasn’t fair. It had always been me who’d had to cover for her, stand guard and take messages to Carl when she couldn’t get out. It was me and not Emma who understood the intricacies of the way they were with each other – the games, the ignored phone calls, the crocodile tears and the romantic moments they shared in the back of his car. As someone outside the situation looking in, I probably understood more about what was going on between them than they did themselves. Emma didn’t know anything.

‘There’s always your mobile,’ I said.

Chloe screwed up her face and mimicked me. ‘ There’s always your mobile! As if I didn’t think of that. No credit on it, and I can’t get credit if I can’t get out of the house, can’t get any money, can’t get hold of Carl to tell him to get some for me. Genius.’

‘I said I’d get some for you,’ Emma said, ‘or I’ll ring him from my house, tell him what’s happened.’ Chloe put her head on Emma’s shoulder and squeezed her arm.

‘I want to talk to him myself,’ she said and she didn’t sound angry anymore. It was the same tone of voice she used with Shanks when he was going to mark her up for being late or not turning up for registration at all. ( It’s private women’s problems, sir – not my fault I was late .)

‘You shouldn’t be spending your money on me. You didn’t do anything wrong,’ Chloe said, and tucked a strand of Emma’s dark hair behind her ear affectionately. I gritted my teeth – the two of them pawing at each other like that. It was disgusting. Chloe looked at me, her plucked bald eyebrows raised, and finally I caught on.

‘I’ve got a bit of money on me,’ I said. The change from the tenner Donald had given me the night before. ‘It isn’t much, but it’d go towards. I can give you that, if you want?’

Chloe blinked slowly, her mouth screwed up. She was marking a tally in her head. How much would I need to do to make it up to her?

‘How much?’

I counted out the coins from my pocket onto the table in front of them. Six pounds.

‘Is that all?’ Chloe scowled at me. ‘You know they’re probably going to ground me for months?’

‘Listen,’ I said, ‘my Christmas money is at home. I can go and get it for you. Or give you my phone, if you want.’

‘Never mind,’ she said, and slid the money off the table into her cupped palm. She tucked it away into the pocket of her jeans. ‘Have you got any fags?’

I shook my head.

Emma unwrapped a small square bar of Turkish Delight and let the shiny pink wrapper fall onto the tiles. She broke it in two and handed the bigger half to Chloe. She spoke and chewed at the same time.

‘You can have my fags,’ Emma said. ‘I’ll nick a packet off my brother. He went to Ibiza last month and he’s got a massive carton of duty-free under his bed. He’ll never know.’

Chloe brightened.

‘And relax about Carl. You don’t need to phone him. He’ll ring you himself before too long. Just keep your phone on you. Put it on vibrate and keep it in your knickers or something.’ Chloe laughed and I could see that it was working – that Emma was doing my job for me and getting Chloe to be reasonable. It wasn’t fair.

‘He doesn’t know your parents know – doesn’t even know you’ve been in hospital. Give him a few days. He’ll ring, and then you can update him and he’ll get you some money. I’ll go and get it off him, or you can send Lola if you want.’

Chloe sighed. ‘He better had,’ she said irritably, and kicked her foot at the selection box. It toppled and fell onto the floor. ‘Pick that up, will you?’

I knew she was talking to me and not Emma so I picked it up and slotted it back onto the table between their feet and tried to think of something to say. Even I could work out that telling her I’d seen Carl the night before would be a bad idea.

‘At least you’re not pregnant,’ I said. ‘Carl will be glad about that, won’t he?’

Chloe shook her head and pursed her lips at me. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ she said, under her breath, ‘can’t you keep your mouth shut about anything? Tell you something, and I might as well broadcast it on the news.’

I glanced at Emma, who was frowning.

‘Forget it,’ Chloe said, ‘just sod off home, will you? I never asked you to come round. I’m supposed to be resting. I’ll see you when I get back to school.’

I stood up and turned round, making my way slowly through the arch into the living room and towards the front door – walking as slowly as I could to give Chloe a chance to change her mind, to laugh and say it was a joke. I hadn’t even had the chance to take my coat off. She could have called me back in then and there and I’d have laughed along with her and Emma and pretended to find it funny. The only noise I could hear as I went out into the street and clicked the front door shut behind me was the noise of their voices, low and murmuring, talking about something I wasn’t allowed to hear.