The Book of Us
ANDREA MICHAEL

One More Chapter

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Copyright © Andrea Michael 2020

Cover design by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Andrea Michael asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008370213

Ebook Edition © March 2020 ISBN: 9780008370206

Version: 2019-11-05

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

About This Book

Dedication

Epigraph

Part One

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Part Two: Finland

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Part Three: Spain

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Part Four: Australia

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24: A Few Months Later

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

About This Book

This ebook meets all accessibility requirements and standards.

For little girls with big dreams.

And for the old friends who keep them alive.

Some days

I am more wolf

than woman

and I am still learning

how to stop apologising

for my wild.

– ‘Wolf and Woman’, Nikita Gill

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Sorry to do this, Loll,

This has to be the three hundred billionth letter I’ve sent you (approximately) but you weren’t answering and I haven’t got time for bullshit anymore. So this is all nicely typed, properly addressed, no trace of my scraggy writing or those hearts over the ‘I’s you used to hate. It’s proper, the way you like.

It’s funny, I’ve been writing these letters for years, and now I finally have something important to say that isn’t ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘Please forgive me’ or any of that other bullshit we know never works. You always said that if people cherished forgiveness, they would care enough not to make mistakes in the first place …

At this point, Lauren Richards honestly considered ripping up the letter. She’d been tricked into opening it, what with the sad Christmas songs still on the radio, and sitting alone in front of that huge tree with her glass of wine. Well, a few glasses of wine.

How the hell was she going to get that tree down? Darren always did that part. Suppose she just left it up all year, until it started to rot through the expensive carpet? When people asked, their noses wrinkled in disdain, she could tell them it was Darren’s fault, because he wasn’t there to help. Not that many people visited the house these days anyway.

She averted her eyes from the beautiful tree, softly twinkling and totally perfect. Too perfect. She tipped the rest of the wine to the back of her throat and swallowed, blinking. Back to the sodding letter then.

… When we first met, you remember you said I was the best person you knew at living? Just pure chaos and destruction and fun. You loved it then, even when you pretended not to. Your mum thought I was a terrible influence, and your dad thought I was a hussy and you loved me anyway …

‘And you proved him bloody right,’ Lauren said to herself. Cass always got away with that, retelling the truth. Her parents loved Cass. They used to ask her to make Lauren over, take her out places, make her more … just more. Cass was fun to be around, and Lauren had liked being near the edge of the spotlight. ‘Why can’t you be more like Cass?’ her mother had sighed more than once, ‘she’s so confident, so vivacious.’

So I’m pulling out every trick in the book here, babe. I’m gonna need you to remember some time when we were happy. There were enough of them. The camping in the woods, and the puking off the side of the carousel at the fairground? That summer in Ibiza? I know, you’ll be thinking ‘she’s listed vomiting as fun, and I hate camping and that summer in Spain I got burnt to fuck.’

Lauren almost laughed. Almost. She could hear Cass so clearly it was painful, and she couldn’t stop reading. She could pause long enough to pour another glass of wine and snuggle down on the sofa, but she couldn’t stop. Damn it, if she’d just ignored the letter in the first place she wouldn’t be in this mess, enthralled by Cass all over again.

So you’re holding on to that happy memory, right? Now I need you to remember the last thing you said to me. Need a little refresher? You told me you wished I was dead. Surprisingly strong words for sweet little Loll. I deserved it, obviously. But seeing as it’s Christmas, I thought I’d get in touch to give you a very special gift – you’ll be getting your wish!

I wonder how that feels. If you’re at all sad at the idea of me not existing. Most likely, you’re pissed off at me for telling you. But the thing is, babe, we both know that when I kick it, if you didn’t know, you’d be even more pissed at me. So hold on to that, because there’s more.

I’m thinking about the Big Book, and I’m pretty sure you have it. There’s a chance you could have thrown it away, I guess – I know how stubborn you can be. It’s been six years. But I’m really, really hoping that whatever tiny part of you that loved me, that loved us, kept hold of that book.

So whatcha say, Loll? Come punish me in person. Address is at the bottom. I won’t say I know you’ll come, because shit like that drives you nuts, and you’ll end up doing the opposite.

But come, Loll. We’ve got some important things to talk about. It’s time.

Love

Cass

Xxx

Lauren was trying to decide whether to scream or throw up. And yet, she knew she’d go. She was a pushover, and Cass needed her. She’d be angry as hell, and she’d grumble and cry and punish Cass for making her do it, but she’d go. Besides, it wasn’t like she had anyone else to worry about, or ask permission from. It was just her now.

Her eyes slid to the address at the bottom – Blackpool! Gaudy illuminations and loud noises and fresh popcorn, a new party every night – she supposed that was a good enough reason for someone like Cassidy Jones.

When Cass had disappeared all those years ago – there one moment, all tears and destruction, and then suddenly gone – Lauren had been insane with rage. Even thinking about Cass had made her skin itch like she wanted to tear it off. She took a moment to assess if that was still how she felt. Did she still want to throttle her once best friend, want to cry at the very sight of her, or was it now a warm straightjacket cuddle of a grudge, comfortably settled into? She had become accustomed to life without Cass. To monochrome routine and being invisible. People didn’t really bother with you when you were shy – they seemed to think she was stuck-up, or aloof. Cass never had. Cass had understood.

At least before, she’d had Darren. That was why people got married, wasn’t it? So they wouldn’t be alone, especially at Christmas? Darren hadn’t thought of that when he left her. She was still shaking at the injustice of it – leaving your wife on Christmas Eve. ‘Lonely this Christmas’ indeed.

She tried to take a breath, pushing away the image of Darren’s shrugs as he explained it wasn’t his fault, ‘You don’t choose who you fall in love with.’ He’d looked so handsome, those painfully sharp cheekbones and his eyes bright against that blue jumper she’d bought him. He was leaving her, he wasn’t sorry. Cupid’s arrow had struck him and it wasn’t down to him. It wasn’t his fault, it was fate.

Lauren had sat there and looked at him in wonder. It wasn’t his fault, of course, because he was fated to fall in love with a twenty-three-year-old beauty therapist who modelled part-time.

She’d almost choked on her hot chocolate. God, but he made good hot chocolate. He heated the milk in the pan, melted in marshmallows and added a sneaky shot of Baileys. Just like everything else in Darren’s life, attention to detail mattered – perfection had to be achieved. Lauren wondered if she’d ever eat chocolate again, or if he’d ruined that for her too.

She’d spent Christmas Day caterwauling drunkenly in front of Casablanca and fallen asleep, waking up to the smell of burnt turkey and smoke billowing from the kitchen.

Cass would have found the whole thing hilarious. If they’d still been friends, Cass would have come round with Chinese food and too many bottles of wine, and they would have sung at the top of their lungs until the early morning. She would have called Darren every name she could think of, but wouldn’t have said, ‘I told you so.’ Cass would have listed her top thirty favourite things about Lauren, which she did every time Lauren had been disappointed or sad or let down, and she wouldn’t pause once trying to find things to say. She would have held her hand, and stroked Lauren’s hair whilst she cried.

There was something timely about this, losing Darren then Cass reappearing. Two opposite directions, opposing forces. It had always been like that. She could never have both of them at once.

Lauren conjured memories of Cass without effort, her blonde hair billowing, laughing over something ridiculous. Dancing at Inferno at those godawful uni nights, where they had downed Jägerbombs until one of them was sick, and then gone back and danced even more. She could see her at that final moment, tears in her eyes, skin patchy and flushed with guilt and anger as she apologised over and over again.

And then she couldn’t see her at all.

Lauren tipped the last of the wine bottle into her glass, nodding her head as it emptied. An ending. Could Cass really be dying? She had a flair for the dramatic, just like her mother. Pulling fantastic stories out of an interaction on the bus, or a conversation in the queue for a coffee. Maybe this was one of those. A scheme, a final cry for attention. She wouldn’t even be mad if it was.

She would go, Cass would say, ‘Haha, tricked you! Knew you’d fall for that!’ and she’d threaten to storm off. They’d fight and then everything would be fine. That would be it. It had to be.

She had lived the last six years of her life without Cassidy Jones, and they had not been okay at all. They had been greyscale, and quiet. But what if there weren’t any more years left?

Lauren tottered upstairs, wine glass still in hand, trying to ignore the photographs on the wall, those smiling faces of two people who were always just making do. Doing what people did. Her fingertips traced the space on the wall that she had left bare, ready for softly-lit photographs of cherubim smiles and tiny handprints in ceramic. She missed those once future babies more than she missed her husband.

Darren had very carefully not said that Lauren’s desire for a baby was obsessive. Crying every time she got her period was absolutely not irritating him. He’d just shrug and say it would happen when it happened, not to worry. ‘We’re still young, Loll, what’s the rush? Let’s live our lives!’

She supposed boredom was a bad reason to have a child. ‘Living their lives’ seemed to mean the same takeout from the same restaurant every Thursday, going to the cinema at the end of the month, a visit to the same hotel for their anniversary every year and an expensive holiday to somewhere warm that they would spend the next few months paying off. It meant having the same conversations about how Darren was overlooked for promotions when he was the best, how he deserved more money, how their friends had second homes abroad and he was embarrassed that they didn’t. The future always carried the promise of reward. The present was something to be endured.

Lauren clung to the doorframe, surveying her room.

The bed was unmade. There had been no point – she only tossed and turned, scavenging for booze and biscuits before retreating back to it, burying her face in the covers and crying until she couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t necessarily that she missed Darren. It was the unfairness of it all that got to her.

She had to go back to work soon though. She had to get the grief and anger out now, before she messed up someone’s paperwork and they lost their dream home. She placed the wine glass carefully on the side table and lay down across the bed on her stomach, reaching for the box underneath.

The box was slightly fluffy at the corners, beige cardboard showing beneath the purple. Dragging it out she snorted at the thick dust, pausing to run a finger through it. A relic of a different time.

She took a deep breath and threw the lid off, wondering if she’d feel different. Inside was an array of photographs, notebooks, odds and ends. A worn-bare keyring from when they’d gone to Disneyland. Those youthful photos, their cheeks pressed close as they pouted at the camera, their bright eyeshadow clashing with their lipstick. They were garish and loud and weirdly beautiful.

Lauren looked at herself, traced the cheekbones and the huge hair that Cass had teased out from curls into static. She always looked nervous in photos, but she didn’t in this one. Her dark eyes were haughty, daring you to challenge her. Cass had that waifish look girls have when they know their own power – she was thin and coltish without being skinny, all odd sharp angles and huge blue eyes. She pulled you in. You only had to look at that picture to tell the girl was trouble.

And beneath it all, in the bottom of the box, was the Big Book. A chunky black Moleskin notebook that Cass had bought. It was a graduation gift for Lauren, a promise of their future adventures together. Lauren’s clear black capitals had written, Eat proper pizza in Italy, followed by Cass’s swirly scribble: Try ayahuasca in South America. After it, in her hand again, was (If we feel safe).

Later, the pages were organised by country, then again by theme. They wanted to try wall climbing, canoeing, eat paella, drink absinthe. Cass wanted to find out which country’s men were the best lovers, but Lauren was content to Dance with a stranger.

Even the warmth of the book in her hand tugged at her chest, this strange clawing ache that made her grit her teeth. It was different to Darren. Darren’s leaving she had felt in the pit of her stomach, all rage and injustice and the sheer cheek of it.

The least he could have done was given her a fucking child. That was the first thing she’d thought when he said he was leaving – which wasn’t a good sign, she supposed. But he was leaving her all alone. He would keep the friends that were always his, the family that adored him. If only she’d had someone to pour her love into, to survive for, she could have forgiven him.

Of course, she’d said nothing. He’d patted her on the shoulder before he left, commending her for being so understanding. She was always so good, so kind, so generous. Lauren had pressed her nails into her palms until she’d drawn blood. Her silence raged.

Lauren picked up that photograph again – that Cass was the one she’d met in the toilet stalls of the university bar. The one who was wild and fun and always up for adventure. The one who dragged her along because she needed to be forced to have fun. The one who listened when she finally did speak, however quiet she was. She had missed that girl. The Cass who came later – more mess and drama and betrayal – it was her Lauren was angry with. This Cass was perfect.

There was an entire folder in her phone full of text messages she had written, then saved, because she had no one to send them to. There was grief in that loss. A little shame, too.

Lauren used to talk to Cass in her head, back when her voice still represented comfort and stillness. In the midst of panic she could still imagine Cass talking slowly and gently, keeping her calm. At university, when her panic attacks had reached their peak, Cass would grasp her palm, pressing her thumb into the centre to distract her. She’d reminded her to breathe, talked her down until the waves crashed around them both and fizzled away. Then, she would always produce a chocolate bar from her bag and tell Lauren that everything was fine, that chocolate solved everything.

She hadn’t conjured that voice for years – it just wasn’t the same anymore.

But Cass not existing at all? No blonde-haired wild girl wreaking havoc somewhere in the world – it just didn’t seem right.

Lauren sipped on the last of her wine, snuggling down against her wrinkled pillows, frowning at that photograph. Her belly burned with a prickle of curiosity. The memory of slender fingers tapping her on the shoulder and warning her not to be stubborn. Telling her to take a risk.

Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve. And Lauren would be driving to Blackpool. They had both known she could never say no to Cassidy Jones.

Chapter 2

Lauren shouldn’t have been driving. Her dry mouth and fuzzy head told her this as she bumbled up the motorway. She seemed to feel hangovers deep in her bones these days, like she was filled with poison. She wound the window down and the sharp, cold air was a relief, blowing out the cobwebs.

As she crawled along, Lauren looked at the other people in the cars, all travelling somewhere for New Year’s. Going towards people they loved, making promises for the year ahead. Lauren could almost hear the clink of the wine bottles in the back seats, the yowling sing-alongs from the twenty-somethings, convinced this would be the best New Year’s ever. She and Cass had enough of those memories.

One was spent on the beach in Brighton, shivering but steadfastly remaining, gritted teeth and a vodka blanket to numb them. Lauren couldn’t remember much beyond being mesmerised by the dark oiliness of the ocean at night, how the waves were deafening. She did recall curling up under a blanket, Cass’s breath warm on her cheek as she whispered, ‘This will be our year, Loll. This will be the one.’

The years had started to bleed together. She remembered the jealousy she felt at Cass’s mum’s parties, how Cass had always been sparkling at the centre of it all, showered with attention. The Christmas lights shone, and Cass had worn a pearlescent dress that caught the light like mermaid scales. People couldn’t pass without reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder, as if entranced. Lauren wore black that year. Cass was the angel on the Christmas tree, and Lauren sparkled dully on the side. That always seemed to be the way.

There were the London lights one year, with the scramble of thousands of people and fingers numb with the cold. Darren had been annoyed about that one. He’d wanted her to himself back then.

After that came the New Year’s festivities without her – the expensive meals in fancy hotels. An argument with Darren about something pointless. After a while, they stopped bothering. The promise of a new beginning starting with the chime of midnight didn’t seem as exciting as before. They went out for dinner, like adults did. One year they had a party, but Lauren felt like a failure. Drinks were spilled, food was burnt. But she brought it on herself, of course. She was too highly strung, too anxious. She took everything too seriously, like the laughter of Darren’s workmates as they chewed charred mini quiches and explained why their champagne was better than her prosecco. She’d started the new year hiding in the bathroom, and when she reappeared Darren asked her why she always had to worry and ruin everything for herself. Then came the years of sitting on the sofa, watching the fireworks through the window, a dine-in-for-two meal on the coffee table. They’d stopped sitting opposite each other a long time ago.

Why was no one else annoyed by the traffic? Lauren tugged at her hair in frustration. Her ring caught, tugging and splitting strands. That would teach her. She shouldn’t have been wearing the damn thing anymore anyway. She pulled it off, letting it sit in her hair before she tugged it out and chucked it on the passenger seat. The traffic moved forward briefly, and Lauren held out for almost three minutes before reaching across and feeling for it, placing it back on her finger with a sigh of relief.

Her life seemed to split into two sections: with Cass, and after Cass. After was like watercolour, wishy-washy dullness like that overcast sky above the grey motorway. But there had been less pain. Cass had shone so brightly, all that colour and noise and excitement, that there had been no place for Lauren to be someone of her own. That’s what she’d thought, after Cass was gone. Now it was her time to become someone.

But Cassidy Jones had been out of her life for six years now, and Lauren still hadn’t made her own life colourful. Cass was oils on canvas, bold and messy. Lauren was the practice paper, the daubs of pastel that bled at the edges and merged. Not the good kind of mess. She wondered if Cass would look sick, whether she would finally fail to outshine everyone else in the room. It was awful to hope for that, though.

The car’s speaker system rang shrilly, Mum flashing up on the dashboard. Lauren took a deep breath before answering, injecting a smile into her voice.

‘Hi, Mum, how are you? Got any big plans for tonight?’

‘Plans? We’ll get fish and chips and watch the fireworks on the telly, same as every year. What are you talking about?’

Of course. No wonder I’m boring. It’s in my genes.

‘We were going to ask if you wanted to join us, sweetheart. How are you?’ Her mother’s voice dripped with sympathy, and it made Lauren’s organs itch.

‘I’m fine, Mum. Honestly. Feeling good … new year, fresh slate and all that.’ She pretended to believe it. That was the key to being a good lawyer, after all. Truth was relative. She hadn’t liked that part of the job at all. Which explained why she’d ended up where she had.

‘Lauren, your husband just left you for a younger woman. At Christmas.’

‘I said I’m fine.’ Her teeth were hurting. She must have been grinding them in her sleep again.

‘No one would be fine after that. Why all this proud, brave stuff? We’re family. Come home to us.’

Martha Martinez was not a woman people often said no to. She was capable of muffling their excuses with love, until they couldn’t find a single reason to disappoint the lovely woman with the constant frown lines on her forehead.

It was the reason she’d so often escaped to her grandmother as a teenager. Her abuela’s home was warm, she was greeted with a bear hug and no one ever looked at her like she was a disappointment. Although maybe if her abuela was still around to see what a mess she’d made of her marriage, she’d feel differently. But at least she would have had back-up against her mum. No one else stood up to Martha.

Lauren often felt like her mother took up all the air in the room, and then siphoned it off to whoever she felt was deserving enough. Her brother usually won that one. Just one of the reasons she’d feigned sickness on Christmas Day. Hearing about her brother’s impressive cases (he was a real lawyer, according to her parents) as a barrister, which news site had featured him, who he had helped. Then, dealing with her perfect sister-in-law, bouncing their gorgeous dark-haired son on her knee, feeling the velvet of his baby cheeks as he gripped her finger … it would have killed her.

‘I can’t, Mum, I’ve got plans tonight.’

Her mother was rarely silent. It sat heavily between them, like a bowling ball, trundling down a lane towards its target. Lauren counted backwards from ten and waited for the impact.

‘Please don’t tell me you’re going to beg him to come back to you. The idiot wants to go, let him go. It’s embarrassing enough to be left, darling. Don’t let him make you pathetic.’

That your entry speech for Mother of the Year Awards, Ma? Lauren said nothing, and wondered if one day she’d bite her tongue so hard her mouth would fill with blood.

‘I don’t want him back, Mum.’ She was surprised to find she was telling the truth.

‘Well, good,’ Martha seemed marginally appeased. ‘Don’t you forget what he did to you. You called me drunk out of your mind at three in the morning on Boxing Day, howling about how you drove him away because you wanted a baby. I don’t want to see you that broken again.’

Lauren twitched her mouth to release the tension and pretended to be fine. ‘I remember. I don’t want him. In fact, I wish him a lifetime of happiness with the teenager he’s in love with. She can deal with washing his pants and making his dinner and listening to him whine about not getting promoted. See how long the magic lasts then.’

Martha laughed, and Lauren relaxed. Her mother always liked when she was sassy. She preferred her when she acted more like a conqueror, less like a victim. More like Cass.

‘So where are you going? Taking yourself for a spa break? A good idea to get away and get refreshed. Though maybe you want to start thinking about money if you’ll be getting divorced soon …’

Lauren winced at the d-word, a sharp little pain in her chest. She wanted to blame it on the coffee that morning, but she couldn’t. Divorced before thirty. Excellent. What a waste of an expensive party.

‘Actually, I’m going to see Cassidy.’

Martha’s gasp was a little dramatic for Lauren’s taste. Her mother had loved Cass. She was always going on about how beautiful she was, how elegant and stylish and bold. Cass wouldn’t have dreamed of being a human rights lawyer and ended up being a conveyancing solicitor. Cass wouldn’t have been left for someone younger and more beautiful. And if someone had been stupid enough to leave Cass, she wouldn’t have stayed in her house, screaming like a banshee, asking what she’d done to deserve it. She would have gone out and found someone new, evening out the playing field. Only fair.

Cass was big on fairness – crimes had to be paid, sins atoned for. Actions balanced the scale. Their friendship was a timeline peppered with Cass’s offerings of apology, from a can of Diet Coke on the side in the morning to a box of doughnuts decorated with pink nipples (she’d borrowed, and lost, Lauren’s best bra). Some were more labour intensive, like the hand-drawn cartoon of their friendship, from meeting in the nightclub all the way through to graduation.

Lauren’s favourite apology remained the beautiful copy of Alice in Wonderland, a hardback with gold leaf edges on the pages. That one was because Lauren had an anxiety attack in her first law exam and Cass had said she was overreacting. She’d expected the quiet, comforting voice Cass always offered, the thumb in the middle of her palm. The soothing words that told her it would all be fine, that she could do anything. Instead, she was told to stop worrying, like it was something she could control. The same words everyone else had always used. The book had been placed outside her room, wrapped in a purple ribbon. On the inside cover was an inscription, the closest thing to a written apology. Down the rabbit hole, we’ll go together, it read, in Cass’s wayward scrawl.

They were always impressive, these tokens, dependable and preferable to the empty words and awkward silences. The insistence that everything was okay when it wasn’t. They had found their balance. Cass would mess up, and then she would make it right. That was the way it always been.

Except for that last apology. There had only been words, and words weren’t enough. Nothing would have been enough to undo that mistake. Except, Lauren hoped, maybe time.

Her mother’s squawking brought her back to the present. ‘Oh my goodness, all this time, and now Cassidy is back again? How is she?’ Martha’s excitement was untempered, and Lauren couldn’t bear to burst her bubble.

‘She’s … she’s reaching out. And I thought it was time.’

‘Yes, whatever it was you girls fell out about, it probably all seems very silly now, doesn’t it?’

It most certainly did not. But it seemed less important. In the scheme of things.

‘You never did say what happened between the two of you …’

‘And if I’ve held out this long, why break a habit?’ Lauren clenched the steering wheel.

‘Do you remember that time she told me off because I said you’d put on weight? She stood up and said, “Mrs Martinez, I know I’m a guest in your home, but your daughter is the most wonderful person I know, and she doesn’t need to be criticised like that.” Do you remember?’ Martha laughed. Okay, so maybe one other person besides her grandmother stood up to Martha.

I remember you scowling and coming into my room later that evening to say how embarrassed you were and that I needed to exercise more so I didn’t put you in that situation again. Lauren held her tongue, as always.

‘She was a good friend. She always stuck up for me,’ Lauren said dully.

‘Well you always needed someone like Cassidy, didn’t you? I’m so glad you found her at university or you would have stayed in your room and done nothing!’

‘I might have got a first instead of a 2:1.’

‘Yes, you would have spent three years with your head buried in books, crying because you had no friends. You don’t always make it easy, you know, being so quiet. You don’t let people get to know you. You’re lucky Cassidy put in the time.’

It was a talent her mother had, managing to pinpoint her fears so terrifically, amplifying them until they were obvious. As if Lauren hadn’t spent all these years hating herself for how grateful she’d been, for how much she’d depended on her one friend. How angry she was that one person in the world had seen her properly, without criticism, and then she was gone and Lauren had no one else. It was hardly what she wanted to be thinking about right now.

‘Well, I’ve got to go, Mum. I’ll give you a call when I’m home. Say happy New Year to Dad for me, okay? I love you.’

‘You too, darling. Give my love to Cassidy, tell her I’ve missed her.’

Lauren rolled her eyes. ‘I will.’

‘And Lauren? Tell her you’ve missed her too.’ Martha laughed and hung up, and Lauren couldn’t help but snort at her mother. She would not tell her she’d missed her. Even if it was true.

Blackpool. Bloody Blackpool. They’d gone to university in Hertfordshire. Cass had grown up in North London. So how the hell had she ended up in Blackpool? Lauren conjured visions of Cass standing in the cold, shepherding kids on and off dodgems or a tired carousel. Would that be her life now? When she left all those years ago, Lauren had imagined her on a beach in Greece, dressed in jewels and designer swimsuits, endlessly adored by rich muscled men. Not in a grey, rainy town by the sea, lit up with tacky lights and strewn with L-plates and feather boas.

The Big Book sat on the passenger seat next to her, infinitely worn, with its thumbed pages and fraying black leather cover. It was a book of un-lived dreams, and she pushed it under her coat when she caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye. Who would want to do that to themselves, look back at all the things they failed to achieve? A lot of it had been travel, she remembered that much. They had been obsessed with all the places the world could offer.

She had been on holidays with Darren. But they tended to be four-star hotels at all-inclusive resorts, where you never saw the people who lived there, never had anything but buffets and booze and commenting on the scenery. They went to wonderful countries and stripped away the culture until there was just a pool and a sunset. It always made her feel a little uncomfortable, but Darren had a thing for luxury. ‘They’ve made it the best of both worlds,’ he’d say, ‘why wouldn’t you want that?’ Why would she want to backpack across India and sleep in hostels when she could be here, in Mauritius, sipping Mai Tais? Why cycle through Vietnam when she could be on a beach in Mexico? Somewhere down the line, she had stopped craving adventure, focusing instead on home and family, preparing for the next part of their journey together.

If she’d known how it would all end, maybe she would have gone backpacking. Although the idea of being brave enough to do that without Cass was laughable. Her, by herself, out in the world? Impossible.

Lauren turned down a few streets, trundling along at a slower pace than she needed to. Under a grey sky, with winds rattling canopies and rain spitting on the floor, Blackpool looked post-apocalyptic. Lauren counted five people, sitting grumpily in a café, nursing cups of tea and shivering. Everything looked so incredibly normal.

She wondered what Cass’s home would be like. It was easier than imagining her response when she opened the door. Her house would likely be a hippie den with oversized cushions and bright fabrics, the way her room had looked at uni. Cass was always getting into feng shui, or crystals, something pretty with a side of spiritual, before dropping it again. Her mum had been the same.

Barbara ‘Babs’ Jones had been an actress, model, backing singer, air hostess, aromatherapist, agony aunt and reiki healer. And those were the ones she’d stuck at for more than six months. In between those, Lauren was sure she remembered Cass talking about the failed doggy spa, selling health shakes and writing a couple of Mills and Boon-esque stories for magazines. Cass’s mum had been fascinating, so different to her own straightforward mother. Barbara always looked effortless, it was something in the chin. It said ‘no offence, but I don’t care what you think of me’. An inherent confidence lived in the Jones women’s bones, made plain by hand movements and head tilts. Lauren had craved it so badly when she first met Cass that once she recognised it as a series of traits, she spent hours in the mirror trying to figure out the reasoning behind the magic. But, alas, it wasn’t for the likes of her. It was just who they were, as natural as breathing.

Barbara loved an audience, she was always ready to hand you a glass of wine and tell you a hilarious story about a time she was in Bombay on a movie set, or Nicaragua, volunteering. She had fit a lot of life into her life. She’d died young, too. And still, not as young as Cass would be. God, that was a horrible thought. Lauren physically shook it away as she gripped the steering wheel.

There it was. She pulled the car over and just looked. The street was leafy and pleasant, the little Victorian terrace was grey, with white window frames and a tiny paved entrance. There was nothing about it that told her Cass might live there, except the little evil eye that hung in the top corner of the doorframe. They’d got them in Turkey that first summer together, solid blue glass with a white eye painted on top. She touched it as she approached the door, fingertips chilled by the glass.

Lauren was quite sure she was going to vomit. The only way to put it off was to repeat, ‘It’s not a big deal, it’s not a big deal,’ over and over, until the words ceased to make sense. The rhythm was comforting, and she echoed it as she knocked on the door. Five seconds passed, and then five more. She knocked again, tapping her foot as she counted another five seconds. Okay, well … she wasn’t in. The relief of an anticlimax dripped from her fingertips. She would get back in her car, and go home. Maybe spend a night in a hotel by the service station. Surely those wouldn’t be booked up on New Year’s Eve? Enjoy some tiny room-service bottles and rubbish TV. She could even retrieve the Big Book from her car, leave it on Cass’s doorstep as a gift. A sign that she came, that she tried—

‘Well, well … look what the cat dragged in.’ Cass’s voice was arch. It sounded mocking until Lauren turned around and saw her smile. It was … shy. Grateful. Very unlike Cassidy Jones.

‘Hi,’ Lauren said.

‘Hiya, babe,’ Cass laughed, shaking her head, ‘long time no see.’

She was the same, but different. Age, and life, but more than that, a slight greyness that hovered round the edges. Her thinness was no longer a sign of her diet of coffee and plain toast; it was now evidence of her sickness. She wore grey yoga pants and a jumper that hung from her. The blonde hair that had once flowed wildly down her back was cut into a tousled bob. She could have been anyone. Except for the way she leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, grinning.

‘So a girl’s gotta be dying to get your attention, huh?’

‘Something like that.’ Lauren twisted her ringless fingers, focusing on Cass’s chin rather than her eyes. She was going to be cold, cool, sophisticated. She was the injured party here. Cass should be playing the role of the apologetic friend, eager to make amends. Somehow death had evened the scale, which didn’t seem fair at all.

‘Well, don’t stand out here like a nutter, it’s cold,’ Cass turned and beckoned her in, watching to make sure she followed, ‘still take two sugars in your coffee?’

Lauren trailed behind her, closing the door and taking in everything as she walked down the neat grey hallway. She followed Cass into the kitchen, where she was busying herself with the kettle. The kitchen was small and clean, with bright blue tiles and a spotless white floor. A plain wooden table with four chairs sat by the back door, looking out onto a frosty back garden with a sweet rainbow-striped birdhouse sat in the tree. The first sign of Cass. An abundance of colour that shouted amongst the neutrals.

Lauren sat down at the table, waiting for Cass to say something. But she didn’t, she just let the kettle steam away, pottering with mugs and spoons and instant coffee.

‘No sugar,’ Lauren said suddenly, even though it was a lie.

‘Okay,’ Cass replied, not looking up, ‘Geronimo.’

‘What?’

Cass pointed to the black cat curling itself around Lauren’s feet. ‘Geronimo.’

‘Why?’

Cass shrugged, ‘I didn’t name him.’

How did you even start to talk to someone who had once been a part of you? How did you ask, ‘So how have the last six years been?’ without dredging up everything that went before? How did you stop being angry at someone simply because they were dying? There wasn’t a switch she could flip, and yet, she drank the sight of Cass in because it was strange and wonderful. Like looking at one of those wacky mirrors at the circus. A reflection, but not a true one. Time was invisible until too much of it passed.

‘Look,’ Lauren stood up, talking to Cass’s back, ‘before all of this starts, I just … I don’t want to talk about the past, okay? Let’s leave all that shit behind, I don’t want to go over it all again. Let’s just talk about the present and the future . .’

Cass made a noise as she leaned over the sink, and Lauren couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sob.

‘So you don’t want an apology? I’ve only been practising for six years. I finally got it perfect.’

Lauren clenched her teeth, trying to find the words, ‘Cass—’

Just like that, the bristles were out. Cass straightened her back and placed the two mugs of coffee on the table, her pale hands with the flaked ruby nail varnish shaking slightly.

‘Hey, babe, whatever you want. You’re here. That has to be enough, I guess.’

‘So it’s my fault now?’

Cass blinked at her in shock, ‘How could it be your fault, Loll? You came, after all these years. I’m grateful. Wish it hadn’t taken me dying to get your attention. But hey, we take what we can get, right?’

She shrugged, picking up the cat and cradling him to her chest, tickling beneath his chin. He relaxed for a moment, then started to wriggle, demanding his freedom. Geronimo leapt from Cass’s arms and escaped upstairs, leaving her hands with nothing to do but grasp her coffee cup.

‘I don’t know what I’m meant to say.’ Lauren stared at Cass’s bare feet.

‘Well, I’m meant to say I’m sorry, and you’re meant to say I know, and then we’re meant to ponder silently for a moment before one of us makes a joke about something.’ Cass looked at her hopefully, ‘Know any good jokes?’

‘Why are you acting like none of this matters?’ Lauren asked.

‘God, you really don’t know me at all anymore, do you?’ Cass put down her coffee cup and held out her hands to show her – they were visibly trembling. She quickly crossed her arms, trapping her hands in her armpits. ‘It matters, Loll, it matters more than you know. I’m just trying to keep my shit together. You remember that much about me, at least?’

Lauren nodded. She did know. Something spiteful in her had needed proof. Some signal that she wasn’t the only one struggling. She sipped her coffee, looking at the table, the scratch marks and sticky patches. Did Cass live here with a boyfriend, a partner? A husband? It was almost impossible to imagine, but so was this woman in front of her.

‘How’s Darren?’ Cass sat down carefully, as Lauren’s head whipped up. ‘Might as well get the hard questions out of the way first.’

Loll snorted, nodding, ‘Left me. Just before Christmas.’

‘This Christmas?’

‘Yup,’ Lauren sipped, pretending it didn’t hurt. ‘Man, good coffee.’

‘It’s got caramel or something in it,’ she said, and for a moment, it was so incredibly normal that Lauren felt her chest hurt.

‘Guess you bet on the wrong horse there, babe.’ Not quite an I-told-you-so, but just as sharp. Lauren couldn’t feel too angry, she supposed. Cass was right, after all.

‘Guess I did.’

‘Are you terribly heartbroken?’ Things were always like that in her world, Lauren remembered. They were always terribly or awfully … as if she turned into Audrey Hepburn the minute she was trying to show empathy.

‘No more than expected. What about you?’

‘I’m not heartbroken at all,’ Cass trilled, raising her cup. It was a poor impersonation of herself.

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘I know what you meant, Loll,’ she twisted her cup around on the table, pushing the handle. ‘I’m alone. There’ve been a few guys along the way. No one who stuck. When I knew I was sick again, well, it didn’t seem fair. I felt like I was tricking them into a sad little life.’

She’d never heard Cass be selfless before. She had only wanted to be adored, to be seen. Now, she seemed to curl in on herself, her sleeves pulled down to her fingertips.

‘How long do you have?’

Cass let out that half-laugh again, ‘You know, that’s all anyone wants to know. What does the crystal ball say, what’s the deadline? It’s like when old ladies ask how far along you are when you’re pregnant. But in reverse, I guess.’

Lauren said nothing, and Cass sighed. ‘I’m just … can we finish our coffee first?’

‘Whatever you want, Cass.’ Lauren watched as the pale impersonation of Cassidy Jones put on that voice, the one that pretended to be brave.

‘Best thing about dying – it’s always whatever I want. Should have started dying years ago, everyone’s been so awfully accommodating.’ She gave a little smile and looked up, as if checking to see if Lauren still knew her, still knew how she spoke and what she really meant. Whatever she was searching for in Lauren’s eyes, she seemed to find it.

‘Do you want to go for a walk?’

*

The Blackpool Illuminations on New Year’s Eve were a weird mix of drizzly grey skies, crashing waves, and the party spirit of young people pre-drinking in the afternoon. Loud youths walked back from the shops with six packs of beer, and bottles of wine under their arms. There was a sense of time passing, and simultaneously freezing. Nothing seemed to move or change, just the cold sea air pushing them back as they trudged.

‘So, what do you do?’ Cass asked. ‘Are you a big-shot lawyer now?’

‘I’m a solicitor, yeah.’ Lauren pressed her lips together, holding back any further explanation. ‘And you? Did you become a physio in the end or stay at the make-up counter?’ Did you stick with one thing, finally?

‘Nah,’ Cass shook her head, ‘didn’t seem worth it after Mum. On to new things. I still do a pretty decent smoky eye, though. And I help a couple of the local oldies out with their exercises.’

Her thick mustard scarf was wrapped twice around her, and the colour clashed horribly, bringing out a yellow tone in her skin that spoke of illness.

‘So what do you do?’ It could have been any of a hundred things Cass had tried and quit. Nurse, model, waitress, dog walker.

‘I work in an office. I’m an administrator for a homeless charity.’ She shrugged, sneaking a peak at Lauren. ‘Unexpected?’

‘The word administrator and I in the same sentence from you? Sure.’ Lauren smiled, ‘How long have you done that?’

‘About four and a half years.’

‘Jesus.’

‘I know,’ Cass shook her head. ‘Some things change.’

‘Do you love it?’

Cass twitched her nose, shrugged one shoulder. ‘It’s fine. It’s flexible. I like feeling like I’m doing something good. The money is enough and the people I work with are interesting.’

She raised a hand at an old couple walking on the other side of the street. They waved back, before returning to the task at hand – concentrating on staying upright. They gripped each other tightly, blue veins protruding from their clasped hands.

‘I always wonder when I see old people if they’re holding hands because they want to or they need to,’ Lauren said suddenly, looking as the woman smiled at her husband with a kind of light in her eyes.

‘Is there a difference?’ Cass replied, checking her phone as it buzzed. ‘All right if we take a detour?’

Lauren looked at her. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Sure, just got to pop round the corner.’ She stopped suddenly, brushing her hair back from her face in frustration. She seemed to tremble again as she spoke. ‘Look, you’re here and everything, so I assume you’re okay with meeting her? I know it won’t be easy, but …’

Cass’s body was taut, her toe tapping as she watched Lauren. She crossed her arms, hip jutted in a way that was painfully familiar. Ready for a fight.

‘Meeting who?’

Cass looked at her, confusion in the crease of her brow and her pursed lips. ‘My daughter, obviously.’

Chapter 3

Lauren felt her stomach shift and clench. ‘You have a daughter?’

‘Yes.’ Cass frowned in confusion.

‘No, I’m sorry, that wasn’t right. You have a daughter? You?’

They were walking briskly, Lauren marching ahead even as Cass struggled after her, her cheeks reddening with the cold air.

‘You knew this, why are you being funny with me?’ Cass stopped, taking a shuddering breath, ‘It was why you stayed away, and I got it, but you’re here now. I thought you’d come to terms with it … what’s with the anger?’

Lauren pressed her lips together, eyes resting anywhere but on Cass. It was an overreaction, sure, but it was unfair. All these years had passed, she was dying, and yet Cassidy Jones could still make her jealous. All she had wanted was a child, a little girl. She knew she shouldn’t have wanted a girl over a boy, but she did. She’d wanted a girl she could teach to be strong, and fierce. A girl who wasn’t raised in a pink bedroom wearing pink tutus and ballet slippers, who was taught to be seen and not heard. This daughter she had imagined she would have one day, she’d be allowed to play in the mud, and be loud and silly and messy. The way she hadn’t been.

Lauren could taste the loss, metallic and sour. Of course, Cass had a girl. Cass, who had been irresponsible and flighty and had done what she’d done – she got to have a child. Lauren suddenly heard Cass’s words clearly.

‘I didn’t know. How would I know? I don’t know anything!’ She knew she sounded hysterical, her voice struggling to project. Little mouse, her family always called her, angry little mouse.

Cass’s face lost all colour, eyes widening in panic. ‘Oh God. Oh God, he said he’d told you. That’s why you never returned any of my letters.’ Her eyes flicked to the house behind Lauren, her hand raising slightly, then falling. The fact that she was looking past Lauren enraged her even more. ‘I wouldn’t have … I would have said something—’

‘Who? Who told me what? And what letters? This was the first letter I’ve ever had from you. Six years, nothing, then boom, here’s Cassidy Jones with her drama!’ Lauren could feel the bitterness spilling out and she couldn’t hold it back.

‘Drama!’ Cass hissed, eyes wide. ‘Dying isn’t drama, Loll.’

‘It is when you do it.’

Cass seemed to deflate, leaning back against a tree. Its roots had collapsed the surrounding pavement, leaving the stones uneven and broken. Her fingertips traced the bark and Lauren was drawn to the sight, her soft, pale fingers moving back and forth. She had done that on the inside of Lauren’s arm when they were younger, just below the elbow. It was in second year she’d first started, when Lauren couldn’t sleep at all, worrying and fretting about life and exams and failure. Cass had let her rest her head on her lap and stroked spirals on the inside of her arm, telling her everything would be okay. A lifetime ago. She had believed her then. She watched as Cassidy shook her head, seeming to build up the energy for that bitter little voice.

‘That fucking bastard.’

‘Who?’ Lauren sighed.

‘Darren, obviously.’

‘Darren, my Darren?’

Cass rolled her eyes. ‘Loll, doesn’t it seem strange to you that I’ve sent you hundreds of letters in the last six years, and you only received one? After he left?’

‘You think Darren was smart enough to hide my letters all this time? He barely remembers to pay the gas bill.’ Lauren snorted. Besides, the man was incapable of not expressing every thought he had, whenever he had one. Which was why when he left, at least it had been upfront. Painful, and irritating as hell, but he’d come to her and said he was leaving. It was the one decent thing about him. There’d been no running around, no lying. He’d cheated, he loved this woman, he was leaving. That was it. Done.

The idea that he could have been stealing her post … and since when did Cassidy Jones write letters, rather than leave a drunk voicemail at three in the morning? She could still remember them, the crying and snivelling, the apologies, the excuses. It was too late by then, what they’d had was broken. She’d stopped being Cass the minute she betrayed her.

‘And how often were you working, Loll? How late did you get home, how early did you leave? You don’t think there’s any chance he could have just scooped up the post without you noticing?’ Cass’s grey-blue eyes were round with pity, and Lauren hated that even more.

‘Oh, so it’s my fault? I destroyed my marriage because I’m a workaholic?’ She could hear herself, that stupid teenage answer-back tone. Petulant, stupid woman. Stop talking. You’re in the street. It isn’t proper. Her mother’s worried voice echoing around her skull.

Cass sighed, closing her eyes briefly. Her voice was calm and even, ‘I didn’t say that. I just know you. Or, I knew you. This isn’t about you. This is about Darren lying.’

‘So you’re saying he hid your letters to me? Why?’

‘Because he didn’t want us to be friends. He never did, you know that,’ Cass said lightly, her eyes flickering again to the window, a slow nod and a quirk of her lips. She held up a single finger, mouthing, ‘One minute.’

Lauren looked behind her, but saw only the flicker of a white net curtain.

‘He told me you knew about my kid, that it hurt too much, that you didn’t want to see me,’ Cass stared at the ground. ‘And I understood, you know, of course, but it didn’t seem … I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like you. I always thought if I just kept sending the letters, you’d come around … but now I get it. You didn’t know, you never knew. All this time I thought you hated me—’

‘I did hate you! I hated you!’ Lauren said, feeling herself trembling.

‘And you’re going to hate me again. Now you know. He said you’d never been able to get over it, and I hadn’t thought he was just protecting himself.’ Cass hovered on the edge of tears, pressing her lips together as she looked at Lauren in silent apology, shaking her head.

Lauren tried to make sense of it, her emotions twisting tendrils around her vocal cords. She knew the answer, it was obvious. It was suddenly as if she’d always known. They said nothing.

Cass used all of the tree to support her weight, as if she couldn’t find the energy to stand. Her eyes flicked behind her, and she straightened, whispering to Lauren, ‘Just breathe, okay? Just keep breathing and everything will be fine. We’ll sort this all out back at the house.’ The same words she’d always used, the same promises. How could they ever sort this out?

Suddenly, the front door opened behind her, and Lauren whirled around to see a little girl coming running out, sprinting across to Cass. Her brown hair was in two high pigtails, and her trainers lit up as she moved. Her jeans were a little too big, a heart-shaped patch on the side, and her T-shirt said, Girl Power.

‘Hey there, munchkin, cool your jets. No need to run anywhere.’ Cass tried for a smile, but it was drawn and tight, her eyes flittering up to Lauren to assess the situation.

Cass turned the little girl around to face her, and it was clear. So clear.

‘Vee, this is Loll, my very best friend in the whole world,’ she looked towards Lauren cautiously, like she was a wild thing, not to be trusted. ‘Loll, this is my daughter, Veronica.’

Lauren almost laughed then, at the second meaningless betrayal. Cass knew that was her grandmother’s name, a name she’d planned to save for her own child.

Abuela Veronica had been the only person to ever really see her as strong. As something beyond the scared little girl that everyone else seemed to want her to be. She had these dark eyes that demanded more of you, and permanently pursed lips like she wanted to laugh but was holding it in.

Veronica had been the one to tell her to do law, if she wanted to do law. That she was only as weak as she allowed herself to be. That it didn’t matter what they thought.

She was unlike anyone else’s grandmother. Sure, she did the motherly stuff, and she squeezed baby cheeks and made amazing paella. She cared about her family. But she absolutely didn’t care about what anyone else thought. She poured herself a large glass of port most nights, she giggled when she ate chocolates, holding them daintily between her solid fingers. She started a swing dance class in her seventies, and though everyone knew she’d loved her husband, she never felt the need for another companion. She had her life, and she was satisfied.

Lauren’s favourite thing about her grandmother, beyond that funny, wild spirit, was that she had chosen her own name. When she came to England with her kids, and her husband died, she decided she could either be afraid, or she could be in control. So she gave herself a new name, for a new life. And she lived it, well.

Cass knew that. She knew how much that name meant.

‘Veronica,’ she exhaled, shaking her head. ‘Really? Veronica?’

‘Yes,’ the little girl said, a little pout appearing on her lips, ‘but I like Vee best.’ She held out her hand, so that Lauren couldn’t resist bending down to accommodate her.

‘Very nice to meet you, Vee,’ she heard the break in her voice and stood back up again, staring up to the sky until the tears dried. Her heart beat in her throat, vicious and rapid. The little girl appraised her.

‘Are you sick like Cassy is? Is that why you’re sad?’

‘No,’ she pressed her lips together, shaking her head and trying desperately for a smile. ‘I’m just so glad to meet you, and to see your mum again. We have a lot to catch up on.’

Veronica nodded in approval, turning back to Cass to smile at her, taking her hand. God, she looked like him. Not a lot, but just enough to matter. An echo of her father about the tips of her ears and the tilt of her chin. It was always arrogant on Darren, but with Vee’s delicate features it was pleasantly obstinate. Lauren couldn’t help but trace Vee’s features for more of him, like there were clues in her skin. She tried to remember if she’d seen any of Darren’s baby pictures, but his family weren’t like that. His mother was never a soft woman. She’d had a pinched look at their wedding, standing there sipping her champagne like she’d never been so put out. And she was an unsuspecting grandmother. How insane.

Unless she knew. Was this all some big game, where everyone knew everything except her? She had to be kept in the dark because she was so fragile, so incapable? ‘Let me worry about it, it’s too much for you,’ Darren had always said. ‘I didn’t want you to get upset,’ her mother said whenever there was big news. She didn’t know about her brother’s baby until a month before the birth. ‘You just get so worked up,’ the voices seemed to repeat, over and over. ‘I’ll never lie to you, Loll,’ was Cassidy’s refrain, fighting against the others, ‘even if it hurts.’ She’d kept that promise at least.

Lauren was unspooling, she could feel it, jumping off into a dark pool of water, unwilling to come back. Step back from the paranoia, take a deep breath and a step back.

‘Hello?’ A chubby little hand shook hers, and she refocused. ‘Auntie Loll? I said are you going to have dinner with us? We get to have a special New Year’s dinner. Cassy said you might come – it’s macaroni cheese. My favourite.’

Auntie Loll. Lauren let herself be led along by Veronica, the small child holding a hand of each woman like she knew she had to keep them moving. She chatted away and even though she tried, Lauren couldn’t catch the words. They looked like a family. She couldn’t get the idea out of her head.

‘Did the cat get mean again, baby?’ Cass asked her daughter, scanning her face. ‘He didn’t scratch you?’

‘No … it was my fault. I shouldn’t have cuddled him when he didn’t want to be cuddled.’

‘That’s true.’ Cass shook her hand and grinned at the floor.

‘Jasper isn’t as nice as Geronimo. Do you like cats, Auntie Loll?’ Veronica turned her huge eyes to Lauren now, and the fact that they were the same colour as Cass’s, but her hair was brown like Darren’s … it just threw her.

‘Huh?’ she blinked.

‘Baby, Auntie Loll isn’t feeling very well – maybe wait to chat at dinner, okay?’

‘Okay,’ the girl’s voice quivered with disappointment. ‘Sorry.’

‘Oh no, you don’t have to be sorry!’ Lauren squeezed her hand, ‘I’m not feeling well right now, but when we get back home I would love to talk about cats. I had a cat growing up called Tigger and he was a big fluffy monster. I’ll tell you all about him.’

Vee grinned, nodding. ‘Good.’

The walk seemed to last forever. Lauren was sure she was walking through fog, or wet tissue paper. Something was pushing back, making it hard to see. She just had to keep breathing and moving, that was all she had to do. Steady breaths, don’t look at either of them. It will all be fine.

Oh, but Veronica was gorgeous. There was mud under her fingernails and scuffs on her trainers and she spoke eloquently and clearly. She was confident. Maybe if Lauren had had a daughter, she would have been meek and mild. She hadn’t thought so, but everyone else seemed to. She might never have been strong enough. Clearly, Darren wasn’t the problem after all. It was her. She was the reason they hadn’t had children.

As soon as the key was in the lock, Lauren felt it.

‘Bathroom?’ she gasped.

‘Top of the stairs.’

She galloped up, losing a trainer in the process, and collapsed into the bathroom with enough time to slam the door and reach the toilet. There wasn’t much to throw up – she hadn’t been eating. That didn’t stop her body from retching, over and over, until her throat hurt and her stomach cramped. She wasn’t sure if the bile was red from last night’s wine or she’d scratched the lining of her throat.

Lauren clung to the toilet seat, resting her head on her arm. She could die here. She could outdo Cass, for once. She would die of shock on her bathroom floor, and that would show her who was dramatic.

Except that was stupid. But what wasn’t stupid was finally getting angry instead of sad. She should be finding an appropriate outlet for her rage. Someone who wasn’t a dying mother or a five-year-old.

Lauren scrambled for the phone in her coat pocket and pressed the button. She felt strangely drunk, elated even, at having the chance to scream at him. It somehow hadn’t been his fault when he left. He’d fallen in love, it just happened, he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like he’d chosen to hurt her. And before that, all those years ago … he was shocked, disgusted by the accusation. He could never even have dreamed of hurting her like that. It was offensive that she even considered it, those were his words … God, how he must have been laughing at her naivety, her stupidity. These lies were longer than their marriage.

Her heart pounded as the phone rang.

‘Lauren? Why are you calling?’ Darren sounded genuinely puzzled, and she couldn’t blame him. He could have counted on her pride. She wouldn’t have called him again for the rest of her life if not for this.

‘You bastard. You lying bastard.’ Her voice was low and croaky, and yes, that was blood she tasted. She quite liked how her words sounded when they bled.

‘Who told you?’ Darren replied too quickly, and before she’d even answered he’d blathered on, his voice high and wavering. ‘Look, obviously we’ll wait until after the divorce comes through to tell anyone, it’s not a big deal or anything. We just put it on social media so Sasha could show off the ring, that was all. There’s no rush—’

Lauren pressed her palm into her forehead, as though she was trying to stop her brain falling out.

‘You’re getting married.’

‘Well, yeah, but it was spontaneous, sweetheart, it wasn’t—’

‘We’re still married, dickhead.’ Lauren suddenly felt like her nineteen-year-old self again, holding hands with Cass, drunk and obnoxious as they told boys to fuck off and find someone else to gawk at, because they wanted to dance. She felt powerful.

‘Well yeah, but it’s over, so …’

‘Whatever, I wasn’t calling about that, although wow, continually lowering my expectations after all these years. Impressive.’ Her throat was too dry to laugh, so she coughed.

‘Look, what do you want, Lauren? I don’t think it’s healthy for us to talk at this time.’

‘Oh, okay, well I’ll be quick. I just kind of wanted to know about that whole thing where you knocked up my best friend and then hid it for six years!’ Screaming hurt, but it was a good hurt. It gave her burning lungs something to do.

He laughed. He actually laughed. ‘Bloody hell, all those years and Cassidy finally got her claws back into you? Didn’t see that one coming. Thought you didn’t forgive, Lauren, that’s what you said, wasn’t it? Once people lose your trust it’s gone for good?’

‘Still married you, didn’t I?’ she hissed. ‘Aren’t you sorry?’

‘Sorry? I hid it for you! You, crazy-desperate for a family, to know that Cass had what you wanted? You think you wouldn’t have gone mental over that? I was protecting you.’

‘You’re a liar. Everything you said, you denied it, you made it seem impossible. And it happened, it all happened …’ Lauren felt herself unravelling.

‘It was better this way. You know what Cass was like back then. You were better off without her, we both were. Without the drama, the drunken hysterics.’ Darren’s voice softened, ‘I didn’t want to lose you.’

‘So I had to lose her?’ Lauren wanted to burst into tears like a child at the unfairness of it all. ‘Have you even met her, your kid?’

She didn’t know why she asked, it barely mattered. Everything had changed the moment he lied. Everything could have been different.

‘No! My God, no, Lauren, never! I told her I wasn’t interested. I send her some money every month, because it seemed like the right thing to do, but—’

Lauren snorted, ‘How noble.’

‘Look, I didn’t want to be a dad. You know that. I went along with it for you, because it was what you wanted, but I never wanted that. Not yet anyway. And certainly not with her, for fuck’s sake.’

‘You … you stole my letters? Every opportunity you had to make things right, every time a letter came to the door. Stacking up the lies over and over,’ she was rambling, she could hear the madness in her voice. ‘I honestly didn’t think you were even that smart.’

He laughed at that. ‘I was smart enough to protect myself. To protect my marriage.’

‘Only to throw it away when something better came along.’

‘You’d rather I stayed with you even when I wanted to be with someone else?’

‘I’d rather you died a painful death in some sort of ridiculous clown-related accident,’ she threw out, channelling a teenage Cass. But oh, to wish him dead when Cass was dying … that wasn’t right. Her anger had bubbled up and it was like a burst tap, spitting hot hatred everywhere. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘Yes, you did. Maybe until the divorce we shouldn’t speak, so we can interact like civil adults when it comes to separating the assets, right?’

Lauren wasn’t even sure where to start. So she didn’t. She hung up the phone and rested her head on her arm again. She might have fallen asleep, she wasn’t sure, but there was a gentle tap on the door, and then she saw Cass’s pale arm sneaking around the frame, handing her a mug.

‘Ginger tea. Settles the stomach.’

Lauren half-laughed, blowing on it, ‘Prefer vodka.’

‘Later.’ Cass pushed back the door, leaning her head on the frame. ‘What did he say?’

‘That he lied to protect me.’

‘You know that isn’t true, Loll.’

Lauren closed her eyes. ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’

‘Good. Let’s talk about you.’

Lauren shook her head, drowsy as a child. ‘No. No talking about me. And no talking about death.’

Lauren pushed herself up from the floor and Cass offered her hand. ‘I think it’s time for bed. Come on now, up you get.’

She coaxed and cajoled, her voice so soothing that Lauren couldn’t even get grouchy at being treated like a child. She led her into the dark room, and tucked her up in a single bed, plastic stars faintly glowing on the ceiling. In the corner of the room, a space-themed mobile swung in the breeze through the window, sun and moon orbiting each other around an unsteady Earth.

‘Is this Vee’s room?’ she said in surprise, failing to focus on the stars.

‘She won’t mind.’ Cass rested a cool palm on her forehead, ‘Sleep, Loll. The rest will sort itself.’

She stayed a few moments longer, her thumb resting in the middle of Lauren’s palm, applying light pressure, just as she always had whenever Lauren had drowned in anxiety, struggling to breathe.

Now, she was beyond all that – she was simply numb and exhausted. She pulled her hand away, and Cass nodded as she left.

Sleep came like death, engulfing her in darkness.

When she awoke, she padded down the stairs to see the remains of dinner on the table, and Vee asleep, curled into Cass on the sofa, her little dark head nuzzled under the blanket, Cass’s arms tight around her. Cass’s eyes were on the fireworks on the screen, but she seemed to be looking past them. She looked up as Lauren peered around the corner.

‘I saved you some dinner,’ she whispered, ‘nothing much, but it’s in the microwave if you want?’

Lauren smiled, the force pulling at the skin at the corner of her mouth. She walked through to the kitchen, set the microwave and waited. She suddenly saw, as she hadn’t before, the plastic princess cup on the draining board, the photos on the fridge. If she had taken one more second to look around earlier, she wouldn’t have been blindsided.

Cass looked like a mum, the way she stroked Veronica’s cheek, and smiled at her enthusiasm. The way she had gripped her hand, and checked both ways as they crossed the road. She was really a mother. Maybe even a good one. It was cruel of her to be shocked by that.

The microwave beeped loudly, and she burnt her fingertips as she pulled out a bowl of macaroni cheese with a slice of garlic bread stuck in the top. Absolutely no nutritional value, but she ate desperately, burning her tongue in eagerness. It was the first time she’d been hungry in days.

She watched Cass settled on the sofa, absentmindedly stroking her daughter’s hair. Her smile was tired, and she shuffled slightly when Lauren came in. Lauren chose the seat across from her, curling into the padded armchair and resting her bowl on her knee.

Cass kept her eyes on the television. ‘No shouting or arguing unless it’s a whisper, okay? Dealing with a grouchy, sleepy kid is not my favourite.’

‘Agreed,’ Lauren said, her eyes hovering on the sleeping child. ‘I can imagine that’s not fun.’

Cass shook her head. ‘A couple of years ago she had croup, it was a nightmare. Seeing her in pain, not being able to help, killed me. It’s worse to be the bystander sometimes, you know?’

The fireworks on the screen were over the top, bursting into flashes of pink and blue against the colours of the London Eye.

‘You remember when we went?’ Cass’s eye tilted from the screen back to Lauren.

‘Worst New Year’s ever,’ she laughed, still watching that repetitive motion of Cass’s hand stroking Veronica’s hair. ‘We were freezing and drunk, and we had to pee outside because of the queues …’

‘We got neck ache looking up and that guy vomited all over your shoes!’

‘My back! On my leather jacket!’ Lauren smiled, placing her bowl on the side table.

‘Wearing a leather jacket out on the coldest night of the year – a classic Loll move.’

Lauren tilted her head. ‘Was it?’

Cass snorted, ‘You kidding? Every single time we went out, you would never put a proper coat on because your outfit didn’t look right, or you didn’t want to look bulky, or you didn’t want to carry it, and you’d spend the whole night cold and miserable.’ She shook her head. ‘Or worse, you’d decide to drink more to keep you warm and that would get you in trouble.’

‘I’d forgotten that. Seems so unlike me.’

Cass smiled. ‘Bet you’ve got a spare coat in the car now, haven’t you?’

‘Something like that.’ She had a second pair of gloves, two hats and an extra jumper in there, just in case. Always prepared for every eventuality. Somehow, the idea of discomfort had become more harrowing as she grew up. Being cold, being tired, being pissed off, it just never seemed worth it. It was better to prepare, to keep herself happy enough. She’d thought that would be a good trait as a future parent, always being the one with the baby wipes and the spare bottle of water.

The house was small, but homely. Everything was neat and in its proper place. The walls were a cheery pale yellow, and the bookcases were full, haphazardly stacked. Each book seemed to have broken spines and folded down corners. They had been loved, thumbed through, re-read over and over. Lauren remembered those books and the cases from Cass’s bedroom at her mum’s house. It had driven her mad, those books, how used they looked. ‘Don’t you have any respect for them?’ she’d asked, aghast at the teacup rims on covers, the folded pieces of paper as bookmarks sticking out from different ones. ‘Of course, I love them,’ Cass had replied and Lauren remembered simply not understanding how you could love something so much you’d destroy it.

‘What are you gonna do, Cass?’ Lauren was surprised by the desperation in her voice. ‘Is there treatment, something you can do? What’s actually wrong?’

Cass assessed her sleeping daughter, looking for the rise and fall of her chest, little ears that weren’t overhearing.

‘The big “C” of course, just like Mum,’ Cass said lightly. ‘Always figured it would get me sooner or later, so, here it is.’

‘What does that mean? It’s inherited?’

‘A certain gene makes you more susceptible.’ She shrugged gently. ‘Win some, lose some.’

Lauren simply stared.

‘Hey, you said less drama, I’m doing less drama.’

‘I shouldn’t have said that. I was just … overwhelmed.’

‘I know,’ Cass said. ‘But it’s no more than I deserve, is it?’

Lauren didn’t know what to say. Cass had that same knack as her mother – a discomfiting sort of mind reading. Her mother got her insecurities, and Cass got those thoughts she was ashamed of having. You betrayed me, you deserve this. Lauren shook her head.

Cass looked back at the screen, now showing the steady hum of people trying to leave the Embankment, an unholy mess of coats and scarves bumbling along in a plodding stream. Lauren looked at the clock on the wall: almost 1 a.m., and they hadn’t really talked at all.

‘Isn’t there something you could do?’ she asked, and once again Cass’s mask appeared, that blasé raised eyebrow that seemed to ask who the hell she thought she was, turning up and asking questions.

‘You mean like two rounds of chemo? Or a double mastectomy, maybe? Been there, done that. T-shirt doesn’t fit the same.’ She tilted her head, the small tug of a smile about her lips, ‘Come on, you have to laugh. If you don’t laugh, you cry and I haven’t got time for that. Not yet anyway.’

‘Cass. Tell me.’

Cassidy took a deep breath, eyes still on her daughter. ‘I knew I had the gene before Vee was born. I’d had tests just before Mum died. She didn’t want me to, wanted me to be like her, living without fear. But I needed to know. You saw her at the end. For once in my life, I wanted to be prepared.’ She shuffled a little, looking down at her daughter. ‘There’d been a bit of panic when I was pregnant. Vee was okay, but there were a few concerns. Had the chemo, and it worked. All good. Came back clear, on we went with our lives. They said a good way to limit future issues was the mastectomy, so I did it. This has been going on a long while, Loll, you’re just here for the final act.’

She paused, reaching up to brush hair away from her face, ‘Mum was bitter and angry in the end. She hated me for being there, for witnessing her disappearance. Then she hated me when I left. She was in a fog most days and it was like she became small, collapsed in on herself. There was no joy. Before, she’d been the life and soul of the party. First one on the dodgems, first on the dance floor …’

‘Loudest laugh in North London,’ Lauren supplied gently.

Cass snorted, ‘Exactly! And cancer took that from her. She wasn’t herself at the end, not really. It was like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I didn’t want to lose my mum but when it was over, I was relieved. The pain and loss had turned her into someone hateful. It’s awful, but I was pleased it was over. And that fucked me up.’

She trailed off. They both knew where it went from there. It had been bad enough in the run-up to Barbara’s death with the drinking and the lost jobs and the distance. Cancelling plans and turning up frantic, talking gibberish. A night, a confrontation, and a disappearance.

‘Loll, come sit here,’ she whispered, patting the seat next to her on the sofa.

Lauren went, moving delicately, settling herself in so as not to nudge Vee. She couldn’t stop looking at the little girl, how beautiful she was, the very best parts of Cass. Asleep she looked vulnerable and in need of protection. And yet, this sort of hysterical rage seemed to bubble when she looked at her – it was too painful, like looking directly into the sun. This beautiful little girl was a symbol of betrayal and lies. She couldn’t stop scanning her for parts of Darren, as if she’d suddenly sit up and say something he used to say, or run a thumb over her eyebrow like he did. She couldn’t hate an innocent child, could she? Surely she wasn’t capable of that.

‘She calls you Cassy,’ she said. ‘Why?’

Cass offered a one-shouldered shrug in reply. ‘Who knows why kids do what they do? It makes her happy.’

‘Is she … has Veronica got the gene, the thing your mum had?’

Cass bit her lip. ‘She’ll be higher risk, having a mother and grandmother who both croaked early. It’s fifty-fifty, they say. She can’t be tested until she’s older. I like to believe she’ll be fine, living a long and hopefully happy life.’

It was just a flicker of her lip, but Lauren saw the fear flash across her face, the understanding of loss and what she’d be leaving behind. A reluctance to go.

‘So you wanna know why you’re here, Loll?’ Cass smiled suddenly, emotion hidden behind her charm. ‘I know you do.’

‘To bring you the book. And find out about Vee.’

‘I don’t just want the book, I want you with the book.’ Cass looked very pleased with herself, and Lauren knew that look almost as well as that bitten lip and anxious face that looked back from the mirror each morning. Cass was bargaining. She’d told her once in a market in Greece that you should always look as if you’ll be getting exactly what you deserve, one way or the other. The only factor that changes is how long it takes. Time is the only variable. She was always coming out with bullshit like that, and often Loll, whilst delighted at how smart it all sounded, just chalked it up to Cass being Cass. Wanting to be alluring and make a story out of everything.

Cass reached over and took her hand. ‘I want us to do the things in the Big Book. The way we always meant to, before jobs and careers and husbands and dying mothers and fucked-up grieving and mistakes got in the way.’

‘You want me to quit my job and go backpacking with you?’ Lauren wondered if she was still drunk.

‘I want to live. And I want you there to live with me. You don’t have to quit your job if you don’t want to. Take a sabbatical, or a break, or something. I bet … have you got any holiday left?’ Oh dear, a question. Already there was a chink in her bargaining. Never question, always tell.

Lauren thought about how she’d afford the mortgage on that big family home they’d bought, and whether she could buy Darren out. It was unlikely. She’d have to sell up and move into somewhere smaller. She needed her job. She needed just one thing in her life to stay the same. The world had tilted, there were too many changes, so many mistakes and lies … it was hard to breathe just thinking about it. She felt untethered. Why hadn’t Cass shouted yet, why hadn’t they argued? They would, eventually, they would yell and scream and dredge it all up, just for Cass to die anyway. The shame of Darren’s lies, and those memories, stuck in her throat like gravel.

‘I … I can’t,’ she stuttered, looking at Cass. ‘I’m so sorry, but I can’t.’

‘Is this about …’ She lowered her chin to Veronica, still sleeping soundly, and Lauren shook her head.

‘I have a job, I have a life. I’m sorry about everything, I really am, but …’

The silence settled like dust, and Cass honestly looked like she didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t expecting a rejection. She never had, Lauren remembered. People always wanted to do things for her.

‘I should have known not to spring this on you. You always need time to process. You didn’t come because you were ready to forgive me, you just came because you felt sorry for me.’ Cass blinked away tears, shaking her head, trying to smile. ‘I understand, I do. I got my hopes up. It was too much to ask.’

Lauren said nothing, looking at the floor.

‘I guess money is a reason too?’ Cass asked, quietly hopeful.

‘Partly,’ she sighed, ‘divorces are expensive, I hear. Especially when he’s rushing it through to get remarried.’ She choked out a laugh at that, raising her eyes to the ceiling. ‘God, what a mess.’

‘That man was a colossal waste,’ Cass said bitterly, jaw clenched.

Lauren rested her eyes on the beautiful little girl beside her, reaching out gingerly to stroke her cheek, but stopping herself. ‘Maybe not completely.’

‘He sent us money. I’ve never touched it, Loll, not one penny. I didn’t ask him for it. Cheques arrive at the house each month, and a bit more at Christmas, and I’ve put it all away. I thought we could use it for all of us to go on this adventure. Kind of poetic, I guess. Paying for a reunion tour. But we don’t have to, you can have it, if you want.’

Lauren shook her head, eyes still on Veronica. ‘No, keep it for her … What is she going to do without you, Cass? How is she ever going to be okay?’

Cass smiled, but her lips quivered a little, her eyes glassier than before. ‘I’ve got it all planned out. She’s going to have so many wonderful memories with her mother. She’s going to have this big adventure, and that’s what she’ll remember, this gift I’ll give her.’

‘You’re going to take her on this trip?’

Cass nodded, awaiting judgement.

‘How long?’

‘As long as it takes.’

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, watching the little girl as she slept.

‘You know … you know how sorry I am, right, Loll? I know there’s nothing that could ever undo it, and I know you never forgive,’ Cass stared at the television, stroking her daughter’s hair, soothing herself rather than the child. ‘But I want you to know I’m taking my punishment. It’s actually the kind of torture that would almost make me believe in God. A delicious sort of irony, to have the worst thing you ever did, the thing that destroyed your life actually bring you something wonderful.’

‘Cass …’

She pasted a smile on her face. ‘I know what you’re thinking. I’m sick so you’ve been robbed of your chance to be angry. But we can have it out, tomorrow. I’ll drop Vee in with a neighbour and you can properly yell at me.’

‘You’re making me sound like a horrible person,’ Lauren sighed, wriggling in her seat.

‘I’m just trying to make it fair, make it even.’

It was impossible to even imagine how to make something like that right, and Lauren could feel Cass realising it too.

‘You could always come on this trip with us, make my final few months a misery? Put my hand in warm water when I’m asleep, and cut my hair with nail scissors? Come and punish me, it’ll be fun.’ She smiled so desperately, wide-mouthed and strained, that Lauren could only chortle politely, and announce she was going to bed.

There was too much to say, too many half-finished sentences and words that would return days later to haunt them. Why didn’t I just say that? Why didn’t I ask this? Cass took Veronica upstairs to her room, with Lauren returning to the child’s bedroom, following behind them. The window ledge halfway up had a selection of photographs in frames. Vee at playgroup, her sweet little monogrammed jumper. Cass, holding her baby close, looking exhausted and oh-so young. Lauren wondered who had taken the picture, who else she had in her life to soften the blow when everyone else was gone.

As she lay there in that lovely little room with the plug-in night light and the collection of fluffy toys, Lauren tried to imagine a world where Cassidy Jones was gone before she even got to know who she had become. It was only then, fist stuffed in her mouth, cover pulled over her head, that she allowed herself to cry.

Chapter 4

‘Get up! Get up! Auntie Loll, you have to get up!’ There were little stubby legs jumping on the bed, and a lumpy body landed on her. ‘Oof! Get up! It’s New Year! We’re having pancakes! Hellooo?’

Lauren lay very still, one eye open as she waited for the impatient hands to lift the cover. When Veronica’s face peered round, she grabbed her quickly, tickling as the girl shrieked and laughed.

‘Stop, stop!’ Vee kicked her legs, and Lauren stopped.

‘Not a nice way to be woken up, little miss!’

Veronica acknowledged this with a tilt of her head. The movement was so Cass that it made her chest hurt. She searched for Darren in that little face, looking for the arrogance behind the eyebrows, but there was nothing. She was pure Cass.

Vee jumped down onto the floor and went onto her tiptoes, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Good morning, Auntie Loll, happy New Year.’

‘Much nicer, thank you. Happy New Year!’ She let herself be dragged down the stairs by the insistent child, to see Cass at the stove, her blonde hair tied back in a blue-spotted scarf.

‘Morning, bacon with your pancakes?’

‘Yes, please!’ Cass’s pancakes had been legendary throughout the university dorms. The girl couldn’t make beans on toast without setting off the fire alarms, but fluffy American pancakes, perfectly round and golden, drowned in maple syrup and nearly-but-not-quite burnt bacon? Excellent every time.

‘We’re going to the rides!’ Vee clapped her hands as the pancakes came to the table. ‘You’ll come too.’

Lauren looked across to Cass, raising an eyebrow in question.

‘The pier, we’re going to the pier. Baby, you gotta ask Loll if she’s coming, not just tell her she is.’

‘But it’s easier to tell people,’ the little girl frowned.

Lauren fought a smile, her expression mirroring Cass’s. It felt nice, to share something simple like that with her.

‘I guess that’s true.’ Lauren shrugged. ‘I’ll come. I’m not going on any rides though.’

‘What’s the point, then?’ Veronica asked, truly perplexed.

‘Vee, kinda rude.’ Cass nudged her with her elbow, placing the plate of bacon and bottle of syrup in the middle of the table, and sitting down herself. ‘The point is your auntie will spend time with us. That’ll be nice, won’t it?’

‘Very nice,’ Veronica nodded, wide smile on her face, ‘but it would be better if you went on the roller-coaster.’

Lauren shook her head. ‘Nuh-uh. I’m a big scaredy-cat. If you’re very lucky though, I might go on the teacups with you.’

The little girl considered this, a forkful of pancake halfway to her face. ‘Hmm, I’ll think about it.’

‘Well, that’s very kind of you,’ Lauren laughed, her eyes flitting to Cass again, who was wearing a look of something like relief.

‘Your Auntie Loll doesn’t like big scary rides,’ Cass said to her daughter, sparing a glance for Lauren, who smiled at the tabletop. She knew Cass was thinking of the day they skived off uni to go to a theme park, and just before the ride started, Lauren panicked. She’d been strapped in and started crying and struggled to breathe. They let her out, and Cass went with her, never once telling her she was silly. She just bought her an ice-cream cone and suggested they walk around the maze instead.

Lauren remembered being so shocked that someone wouldn’t mock her for her weakness. Her parents were always telling her how embarrassingly fearful she was. Cass was the only person who ever let her be who she was. And now she was letting her be awkward and angry and confused, without question. Just gratitude.

‘But they’re the most fun!’ Vee looked shocked that anyone could deny the joy of a roller-coaster.

Lauren was almost convinced, but later that morning, as she looked up at the rickety old wooden framework, she felt her stomach drop.

‘That?’ She pointed. ‘You want to go on that?’

Vee grinned up at her, pulling on her hand. ‘Of course, it’s the best one!’

‘Leave poor Auntie Loll alone, pudding, come on. I’ll come with you.’ Cass steered her daughter over to the roller-coaster, where there was no queue. No one was there, and Lauren stood in the cold, hands in her pockets, shoulders braced against the chill. She was wearing a grey coat, brown boots and black tights. Against the grey background of the pier, the sky blending into the water, Lauren was sure she was almost invisible.

Cass and Veronica didn’t have that problem, it was easy to see them across the pier, Veronica’s bright little yellow rain mac and black-and-white tights standing out almost as much as Cass’s deep-green coat and red scarf. They were little chunks of brightness in the dismal landscape.

Lauren wondered whether she should have stopped Cass, asked if it was safe for her. They hadn’t talked about the state of her illness, what she was dealing with. She looked frail, but she had always had a pallor that erred on the side of sleepless nights. Once, a painter at a party said her skin looked like that of a porcelain doll. Cass had been delighted, tracing her own cheek in surprise. She loved a compliment. Lauren was sure he’d tried to sell them drugs later on that evening. Now she still looked like porcelain, but she was fragile. Easily broken. Lauren pressed her nails into her palm. There would be no talking Cass out of having fun.

The response would be the same as it always was, whenever Cass did anything dangerous or foolish or strange: Well, gotta die someday. Whether it was trying the week-old Chinese food for a dare, or getting pierced in a back-alley studio, or walking over to that scowling boy with the neck tattoo to demand a date, Cass never turned down the chance to take a risk.

She watched that little cart creep to the top of the roller-coaster, Vee’s yellow coat blinking in the distance, so high up in the sky. She held her breath, trying not to panic. So many things could go wrong. They could be hurt. Or killed. Wasn’t there a story in the newspaper about a girl getting killed on a roller-coaster? Nothing was certain, everything could turn upside down in a second. Your best friend could betray you, your husband could leave you, you could realise you’d wasted the last six years of your life being angry about the wrong thing. You could meet a child who made you jealous of your dying friend, but also made your stomach cramp with loss. You could realise your life was not the way it was meant to be. You could blame your idiot husband and your critical mother and your beautiful, selfish friend, and realise you created your own undoing all along, with every choice you made.

God, she needed them to be okay.

They seemed to hover at the top, and then they were falling, slipping through the air and tracing the loops. Lauren’s heart thumped desperately, and she held her breath. The little figures in the distance held their arms up as they fell. She imagined she could hear their screams. Her eyes followed their movements in a panic, time seemingly endless as they moved this way and that, until finally they were deposited back to the ground and she could breathe again.

She watched as Veronica jumped up and down in delight, clapping her hands, and hugging her mother. Cass looked breathless, but there was colour in her cheeks, and her red scarf flapped in the wind.

Veronica’s grin was huge as she ran over. ‘Did you see us? Did you see us? We were so high and then we just went zoom!’ Her hand indicated the descent. Her eyes were so bright and vibrant, wide with excitement. ‘We were like birds, hoot hoot!’ She lifted her arms to swoop around the two adults, holding her coat up like a cape. She then launched herself at Cass, who was forced to bend and catch her, cradling her close.

Lauren watched her face, the strain in her movements, the downward tilt of her mouth as she gritted her teeth. There it was, illness hovering behind her eyes and in the joints of her fingers. It made Lauren wince a little just to watch.

‘Gently, sweetheart, gently.’ Cass kissed her daughter’s rosy cheek and swung her back and forth, rotating from the hips. ‘Besides, you know we’re not birds! What are we?’

‘We’re wolves!’ Veronica yelped, throwing both her arms up, ‘Arroooo!’

Cass threw her head back too, joining her. ‘Arroooooo!’

Lauren’s cheeks coloured in embarrassment, and she had to physically stop herself from stepping back from them. Her eyes sought out Cass’s and she wondered if she remembered, or if she’d just plucked a random phrase from the air to entertain her daughter.

Cass met her gaze defiantly, not leaving her eyes as she spoke to Veronica. ‘Vee, tell Auntie Loll why we’re wolves.’

‘Because we’re a pack,’ Vee ticked them off on her fingers, ‘and we protect each other, and we keep each other warm, and we’re pretty …’

Cass pressed her lips together, and almost rolled her eyes as she squeezed Veronica and put her down.

‘Yes, wolves are very pretty. But we’re a pack, right?’

‘Right,’ the little girl nodded definitively. ‘And Auntie Loll too, right? She’s part of our pack?’

‘I don’t know, baby.’ Cass tilted her head at Lauren. ‘What do you think?’

It was a strange thing, to watch them both watching her, their heads at that same angle, each quirking that same eyebrow.

‘Can you howl, Auntie Loll? You need to have a good howl to be a wolf,’ the little girl said with authority, hands on hips. ‘Let’s hear your howl.’

Lauren snorted, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry, lovely one, I’m not a wolf. I’m a deer … no, something less elegant … I’m a pheasant. Or a dormouse, I’m a dormouse.’

‘What’s a pheasant?’ she frowned.

‘A very silly bird.’ She shook her head, then, as the awkwardness made her skin itch, she checked her watch. ‘Look, I better get back. Back to work tomorrow, long drive and everything …’

Disappointment flashed across Cass’s face, but she nodded. ‘Of course, thanks for coming. Look, we’ll walk you back to the car.’

‘No, no, enjoy the pier. I’m sure there’s another terrifying ride to go on – enjoy your New Year’s Day!’ She flapped her arms, as if to keep them at bay. ‘I left the book for you, Cass, it’s on your kitchen table … Good luck with it.’

Cass bit her lip, nodding slowly, before turning to Veronica. ‘Baby, say goodbye to Auntie Loll.’

‘Bye.’ The little girl reached out her arms and Lauren crouched down, letting herself be nestled into, Vee’s hair tickling her nose. This child who would have been her step-daughter, the living symbol of the ultimate betrayal. Yet she whispered in Lauren’s ear, ‘Well, I think you’re a wolf,’ and she struggled to hold in the tears.

Lauren squeezed her briefly, feeling her chest contract. She had to get out of there. This was too much. This wasn’t her life. She wasn’t part of this, she wasn’t one of them. And tomorrow she had to go back to work and pretend her husband hadn’t left her, Cass wasn’t sick, Veronica didn’t exist and that everything was normal.

‘Um, Loll, do you, I mean … do you want my number, or … anything?’ Cass looked so small suddenly, like a strong breeze from the waves could carry her away. Lauren wanted her to be sassy, and courageous, to yell, ‘Hey bitch, take my number, we’ll talk,’ just as brash as she used to be. But instead she just stood there, with this aching desperation on her face, like a lifeline was walking away from her.

‘I’ll write to you,’ Lauren stuttered as she took a few steps, ‘that’s what we do now, isn’t it? We’re all cool and old school and we write letters.’

She had to force herself to slow down, because she knew it looked like she was running away, her feet catching paving stones as she stared resolutely ahead. When she had crossed the road and made it down a side path, she looked back. They were still there, standing on the pier, holding hands, the tall thin woman in the green coat, and the little girl in her yellow mac, the only visible thing against the grey.

It was okay to leave them, it was okay not to get involved. She wasn’t one of the pack, she wasn’t part of any of this. She was just the woman who had married Veronica’s biological father. She was just someone who knew Cass when they were younger. That was it. No one would expect anything else. She had more than enough of her own shit to deal with.

When she reached the car, her heart was pounding and her ears hurt from the cold. She shivered as she waited for the heating to get going, and stared across at the little house, the Christmas tree visible in the front window. She couldn’t give up her life again for Cassidy Jones. She had to focus on herself. It seemed that was how all of this had started, that determination not to be in Cass’s shadow anymore, to finally be her own person instead of the plain little friend always along for the ride.

Cass was asking again. Come along, Loll, it’s my party but you’re invited. She wondered if the howling was a mistake or not. Veronica throwing her head back like a young cub, it had torn right through her. Cass had to have known, had to have remembered.

*

It had been the second year of uni, because they lived with Emily and Rachel, who insisted on having ridiculous parties every weekend. Ones that descended into screaming matches about other people’s boyfriends and acceptable boundaries. It became boring, so they used to camp out in the pub across the road, the Resurgence. Lauren had a soft spot for the bartender, Luke, who always smiled and gave them free packs of salt-and-vinegar crisps. Mainly because he had a soft spot for Cass. Lauren was used to that turn of events by then. There’d been something particular about that night though, and Lauren strove to remember. Something to do with Babs. A serious diagnosis, or a bad week of chemo. The years of her sickness blended together, she had always been waiting for treatment or undergoing it. Cass had always been either pretending she wasn’t worried, or escaping into drugs and booze. The years were hard to keep straight.

This night though, Lauren recalled the specifics. She remembered the purple jumper that Cass wore, how she pulled the sleeves over her fingertips. How her eyes looked even more blue against her pale skin. She kept coughing from the damp in the house.

‘I should be with her,’ Cass had said, wallowing in self-pity, ‘she’s going through this alone.’

‘And you’re sick and you could make her worse. Focus on getting better. Or focus on passing your course.’

Cass had raised an eyebrow. ‘Something you want to say there, Loll?’

‘Don’t change course again, even if it bores you?’

‘Well, what’s the point of all this really, if I’m not passionate about the thing I’m studying? If it’s not meant to be?’

‘If it’s not easy, you mean.’ Lauren had sipped her pint of cider, her eyes flitting to Luke behind the bar and the way he rolled his shirt sleeves up.

‘Excuse me, I’m having an existential crisis here,’ Cass had nudged her, ‘plus don’t you have a boyfriend?’

‘I have a … Darren. We don’t have a label.’

Cass rolled her eyes, then rested her head on Lauren’s shoulder, nuzzling in. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing, Loll. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

Lauren snorted, ‘That is absolutely not true, and you know it.’

Cass lifted her head and smirked. ‘Okay, well I wouldn’t know how to be myself.’

‘You mean maybe you’d be a completely normal, well-balanced person without me?’ Lauren faux-gasped, ‘The horror!’

Cass sat back, her fingertips tapping the sticky darkwood table insistently. ‘You joke, but I’m being serious. You’re like … my tribe.’

‘We can’t be a tribe by ourselves.’

‘We can,’ Cass nodded, eyes wide, ‘and maybe we’ll add more people if they prove themselves worthy.’ Her gaze strayed towards the bar briefly, where Luke was polishing glasses and looked across the bar at her. She turned back to Lauren, ‘But we’re definitely a tribe.’

‘And how will these people prove they’re worthy? Slay a dragon? Rescue a princess? Run through a burning building?’

Cass’s eyes were sometimes shocking in how blue they were. She blinked, then laughed. ‘No, they just have to be there when we need them.’

Lauren couldn’t think of a joke to make, and she knew Cass’s thoughts were returning to her mother and the chemo. She could imagine Barbara, sitting in her chair, making all the other people around her laugh, asking the nurses if they could switch out the solution in her drip for wine. A nice sauvignon blanc, if you please.

It was impossible to imagine her not looking glamorous, her golden blonde hair curled elegantly, wearing her best navy wraparound dress and her heels. Barbara always wore heels, no matter if she was in a hospital ward or on a camping ground. When she’d first met Lauren, she pulled her in for a bear hug against her ample bosom, asked her how she felt about marriage, and offered her a glass of wine. Lauren had blinked, looked at Cass, who had shrugged, and said she thought it was probably very nice for people who were into that sort of thing, but currently she was quite happy dating.

Barbara had a laugh like a foghorn, and she bundled Lauren through to the kitchen. ‘Thank God! Finally a normal friend, hey, baby?’

‘Normal?’ Lauren’s heart had sunk. Here she was in Cassidy Jones’s house, seeing the things that mattered to her in her childhood bedroom (a stuffed whale called Winston, and her eternally broken-spined book collection) and meeting her mother. And she had been dismissed as normal immediately. What an awful word, normal. They knew how they sparkled, and they recognised her dullness.

‘Not a fuck-up!’ Barbara elaborated, handing her a generously poured glass of wine. ‘Someone simpatico! Friends should be on the same page. Every other “friend” Cass has had seems to be from a different book entirely!’

It was horrible to admit, but when Cass loved you, she shone a light on you, and Lauren loved that warmth. When Cass was with her, she felt her prettiest, smartest and loveliest self. Until she was in the shadows again. Cass had slipped an arm around her friend, staring at her mother defiantly, as if trying to prove her wrong. Look, I found someone who gets me. I am lovable. I have a friend, I have everything I need. Lauren could tell what that look meant, from the jut of her lip, the tilt of her chin, their heads next to each other, as if posing for a picture. Barbara suddenly laughed and clapped her hands together, wine sloshing out of her near-empty glass and onto the cream carpet.

In the pub, Lauren had looked at Cass, resolutely drinking her cider and staring into space, the empty bar suddenly so silent. It was her job, as her friend, to get her through this. To listen as she offloaded, and be there when she cried. Cass had done it enough times for her, over things much less important than a dying parent. But she needed to know she was strong enough.

‘You remember what your mum used to call us?’ Lauren said, remembering a comment that Babs had once made, when they came downstairs in their matching Halloween outfits and garish make-up. ‘She called us a pack.’

‘A pack’s the same as a tribe.’

‘No, it’s not. Because a tribe can be people. But we’re not people. We’re wolves.’

‘Wolves?’

‘Sharp teeth and pretty fur and fucking deadly.’ Lauren tried her best to sound like Cass, energetic and passionate. ‘Wolves can deal with anything, no matter how cold it gets, right?’

‘I get it, Loll, and I appreciate it, but …’

‘Nope, we’re wolves. And what do wolves do?’ Lauren asked, grinning.

‘I don’t—’

‘Arooooo!’ Lauren howled, enjoying the look of shock on Cass’s face. ‘Join in or I’ll keep going! Arooooo!’

‘I’m not going to—’

‘Arrrrooooo!’ Lauren howled louder, seeing Luke jump across the bar and narrowly avoid smashing a pint glass. ‘Are you a strong wolf, or are you a puny human?’

Cass fought the smile, but it seemed to spread across her face despite her attempts. ‘I’m most definitely a wolf.’

‘Prove it,’ said Lauren, crossing her arms.

‘Arrooooo!’ howled Cass, using all the air in her lungs until she couldn’t howl any longer for laughing. In that moment, Lauren knew she’d done her job.

It was painful to think about now, the moment she’d been strong enough to care for Cass. Everyone always thought she was weak, but she wasn’t. She was just quiet. Cass knew. Cass had always known what she was capable of.

Now there was a wolf pack of two again. She had been replaced by Veronica. They thought they needed her, but they didn’t, not really. They’d have their adventure as mother and daughter. She didn’t need to be a third wheel. But the whole way home she couldn’t stop thinking of that little girl in the yellow coat, staring out at the sea, and wondering whose hand she’d have to hold when her mother was gone.

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