Pieces of Us

Eleven Years Before

Lottie

The summer between school and university hung over us like a weighted cloud. We were different – restless, uneasy and anxious – but no one was more different than Sara and Jay. We all noticed the change in them. It was like something had shifted. Before the party there had been a clear bond between them – it was like static electricity that was always buzzing. Sara would often needle and pester Jay, going on about him being a nice boy, a good kid, someone who would never do anything wrong, but there would also be a twinkle in her eyes, so that we could see she didn’t mean it. Sometimes, she would show her softer side too, leaning into him when we were sitting together, or wrapping her arm around him when she was cold.

Now, there was a gap between them when they sat together. Sara no longer leant against his arm or pressed her back against his stomach. There were inches between them. The conversations were stilted and weird. Sara often chose to sit with me, teasing me instead – not that I minded. I liked having her attention, but it was difficult to ignore the weirdness between her and Jay.

That summer we often hung around the park, especially if the weather was good. I don’t think any of us wanted to be at home. Sara always said that she found her flat too small and depressing, Dec didn’t get on with his dad so he tended to stay out as much as he could, and Jay just liked being with us lot.

‘Have you noticed a difference between Jay and Sara?’ I asked Dec as we walked home one day.

‘Those two are always up and down,’ Dec replied. ‘But if they’ve had an argument, they will get through it. They’ve been mates since they were kids, they’re really tight, despite everything.’

‘But right now, they’re acting so weird – it’s like they can’t stand to be around each other.’

Dec shrugged. ‘Maybe they need a break. Maybe it’s been too intense, you know? I often wondered if those two are amazingly well suited to each other, or just completely toxic.’

Something stirred inside of me that I hadn’t felt for a long time.

Hope.

I hated the feeling, I really did. It was mean and cold and not something I wanted to accept, but all the time Jay and Sara were distant, it meant there was more room for me. I wouldn’t be pushed out.

We had been shopping. It had been a pretty fruitless trip. Sara was meant to be buying stuff for university, but she was restless and distracted and clearly not in the mood. I wasn’t either, to be honest. After all, this whole experience didn’t involve me. I already had a job lined up, working in one of my dad’s car showrooms in Brighton. I was done with education. But knowing that Sara and Jay would soon be going to Manchester together hurt my head.

With Dec going away to Durham, I would be the only one left behind.

‘It’s going to be a nightmare,’ Sara complained, as we walked through a bookshop. She was looking forlornly at the stationery, picking up notebooks that were too expensive for her to buy. I had offered to help her out, but that had quickly been dismissed. ‘I don’t have half the things I need yet, and they sent through the accommodation. Even the cheapest option is too expensive. I’m going to need another loan.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be OK. You’ll just have to budget.’

Sara glared at me, an eyebrow slightly raised. She and I both knew that I’d never had to budget in my life. But that was hardly my fault.

‘And Jay going there too…’ Sara let the words hang. ‘We always thought it would be a good idea to stay together, but maybe now – after everything – it’s not?’

I shrugged. ‘You have to do what’s right for you.’

We left the shop empty-handed, and as we walked down the narrow street towards the main centre a crystal of an idea began to form. OK, maybe that’s a lie. I think the idea had been there for some time, burning away in the back of my consciousness and now was the time to release it.

‘You don’t have to go to Manchester, do you? You could still swap to your second option?’ I said casually.

Sara looked startled. ‘Brighton? You mean stay here?’

‘Yeah, why not? It’s a great university and you told me already what a good course it is.’ I paused. ‘You could live with me. I’ll be getting a little place of my own. I wouldn’t expect much rent – none at all really.’ After all, Daddy was helping me out, as Sara loved to remind me.

‘Lottie. I couldn’t do that!’

‘I’d love the company, seriously! And you could help me learn to be a grown-up.’ I forced a laugh. ‘And maybe, you know, this is what you and Jay both need? Some space.’

Sara didn’t answer for a moment, but her brow was furrowed in concentration.

‘You still love him, don’t you?’ I asked quietly.

She snorted. ‘Don’t be daft, we’ve been friends for years. I think I was just overthinking things before. He is more like an annoying brother.’

The tips of her ears were bright pink, and she was chewing a little on her bottom lip – a clear sign she was lying.

‘You know you can tell me, right? I wouldn’t tell anyone else.’

There was a pause, just a beat. ‘There’s nothing to tell. Stop making a big deal of it,’ she said. ‘Now come on, we have to run for the bus. The next one isn’t for ages!’

I liked it at Sara’s place. She was always apologetic every time we came here, but I never understood why. There was a warmth in Sara’s flat that you would never find in mine even if you searched in the deepest darkest corners. I liked nothing better than sitting huddled together on Sara’s bed, flicking through the latest magazine we’d bought, or searching on her phone for the latest gossip. It was probably my favourite place to be.

Today, Sara had made us buttered toast and tea and had turned her attention to her record collection. Another thing I loved about Sara was that she had a record player; I didn’t know anyone else who did.

‘It’s one of the few things I have of my dad’s,’ she explained, touching the plastic top carefully. ‘It’s not much, but this and his records make me feel like I’m closer to him somehow.’

Sara didn’t talk about her dad much. There was a photo of him on her bedside table, tatty and old. In it, he was holding Sara as a baby. It must have been taken at Christmastime because there was tinsel draped around his neck and a paper party hat sitting at an angle on his thick dark hair. His eyes were large and intense like Sara’s – in fact, she looked the spit of him. I knew that he died when she was little, but I wasn’t sure of the details. Sara just said that everything went ‘to shit’ after that. They struggled for money, her brother went off the rails and her mum was never the same.

‘Sometimes I’m angry at him for being dead,’ she said to me once. ‘How unfair is that? He can’t help it and yet I’m so bloody angry that he decided to leave us. That he gave up. That he didn’t try harder to stay.’

I didn’t say anything because in truth I didn’t know what I could say. My dad had buggered off without looking back. He thought he could stay in my good books by sending me cheques in the post and occasional postcards from the latest exotic island he’d travelled to and more recently offering me a job. I understood the anger all right, but I didn’t understand the grief.

At least Sara had this connection to her dad though – a love of music that seemed to light her up from inside out. The music was mainly Seventies and Eighties stuff and when she played it to me, I didn’t really have a clue.

‘I don’t really like music,’ I admitted. ‘Except Sixties stuff. I know it sounds mad, but it’s what I used to listen to growing up. I love it.’

I expected Sara to laugh, after all my music taste would probably not be seen as cool. However, instead of laughing, Sara stared at me intently, her large eyes glinting.

‘Really? Who are your favourite bands?’

‘The Kinks, Small Faces…’ I paused. ‘But mainly The Beatles. When I was younger my mum used to play this stuff all of the time. I think my nan used to be a bit of hippy, so it made her feel happy. It used to be so fun to see my mum relaxed and singing along.’ I stopped, suddenly uncomfortable. Mum never played her music any more. I couldn’t remember the last time I heard her sing.

‘Do you still see her, your nan?’ Sara was now rummaging through her records, her back turned away from me.

‘No, not any more. Her and Mum used to clash quite a lot and in the end she moved to Dorset. I kept wanting to go and visit but Mum put me off.’ I shrugged. ‘She died when I was thirteen. I barely knew her. I was angry with my mum for a bit, but you know what she’s like.’

I don’t really know why I said that. Sara had only met my mum briefly when she was leaving my house and my mum was perfectly polite, putting on her best hosting act and pretending to be interested in my new friend. It was only after Sara had left that her true colours had bled through, as she had sneered at Sara’s scruffy trainers and ‘rough accent’. I was only too glad that Sara hadn’t seen that side of her.

‘She doesn’t seem that bad,’ Sara said, confirming my thoughts. ‘I wish I had some Beatles records you know; I really like them, too. There’s one song that is just perfect. It’s slow and haunting and really sad, but I can’t remember its name.’

She sat next to me on the bed and picked up her phone. We went online, clicking on different tracks – listening carefully as the beautiful voices of the Fab Four flooded our ears.

‘Hang on,’ I said, pointing to a track name. ‘Is it this one you like? I always loved it. My nan told me Lennon wrote it about his friend dying, but I’m not sure if that’s true.’

Sara clicked on ‘In My Life’ and as soon as it started, we both beamed.

‘This is it,’ she said in a breathy tone. ‘I’ve not heard it for ages, but it always makes me feel tingly.’

‘Me too.’ I whispered.

We sat back and just listened, the words and melody were perfect. When the track finished, Sara played it again. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to drift away, the only thing I was aware of was the music and Sara’s soft breathing next to me.

‘Sometimes I think I do love him, you know?’ she said softly when the music stopped.

‘Who? Jay?’ My eyes opened to see her reaction.

There was a pause and then she nodded. ‘Yeah, Jay. I think I always have; he drives me nuts, but I also can’t imagine being without him.’

‘Really?’ I paused. ‘So why do you always tease him and wind him up?’

Sara shrugged. ‘I dunno. It’s complex, isn’t it.’

‘I guess…’

‘It’s no big deal.’ She sat forward. ‘But he can never know, Lottie, OK? He’s my mate. If he thought I felt differently about him it would mess everything up completely. He clearly doesn’t feel the same way about me. I don’t want to ruin things.’

There – in that moment, as we sat side by side, our bodies pressed tightly together, I was ready to tell her the truth. The words were already forming on my lips.

I’m sorry, Sara – I lied before. I don’t know why. I think I was scared or something stupid. Maybe I was worried about you being hurt, but I lied. Jay does like you – he really does. You two could be something more than friends…

But Sara burst into my thoughts, her voice firm and sure.

‘I’m glad he said what he did, it’s helped me see sense. We can never be together. It would just never work out. It would be horrible and messy and make everything so much worse between us. I think you’re right, Lottie. I think I need a break from him. It’s been too intense for too long. Maybe I should stay in Brighton.’

I wanted to ask more but I could see from her expression that Sara had closed down again. Instead, I reached for her hand.

‘I’m your friend. I’ll always be here for you.’

She smiled at me. ‘Just keep me away from Jay, Lottie. It’s a bad idea, OK. I need you to remind me of that.’

To be honest it wasn’t something I was likely to forget.