Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
Now
‘Oh my God,’ Sam crowed, eyes going bright. ‘You two are—’
Callie’s hands froze under Mae’s. For a split second, she forgot there was a bowl, dough, a show. There was only the fact that Sam was looking at their joined hands with too much interest.
‘—like my parents at Christmas,’ Sam finished, delighted with himself.
Callie laughed, loud. From relief, mostly.
Mae’s hands vanished from Callie’s as if someone had yanked her backwards on a bungee cord.
‘We’re not your parents,’ she said, too brisk.
‘No, yeah, obviously,’ Sam agreed easily. ‘But you guys must have been besties back in the day, right? You reek of history.’
Callie forced her mouth into a smile. ‘We’re just old friends,’ she said, carefully bland.
‘Were,’ Mae said.
Sam’s gaze bounced between them, curious, open, completely unsubtle.
‘Okay, but then what happened?’ he asked. ‘Because, like, I’m smelling a juicy divorce.’
Callie looked around for rescue. Her eyes, unfortunately, landed on Neil. But his eyes were bright. This was the kind of moment he prayed for: messy, real, and just about PG if nobody swore.
‘We don’t have to talk about that now,’ Callie said quickly, aiming it at Mae more than Sam. ‘We’re supposed to be teaching you how not to destroy doughnuts, remember?’
‘Oh, come on,’ Sam said, flashing a grin at the camera.
He tipped his head towards Mae, conspiratorial.
‘You’ll tell me, right? What did she do?
Did she ditch you for the big city? Was there a blow-up?
Was there a boy? Please tell me there wasn’t a boy.
I will be so bummed if there was a sisterhood breach. ’
A crew member actually snorted. Callie’s pulse thumped in her ears.
Mae went very still. Callie recognised that look. She’d seen it when Mae was deciding whether to let a comment go or sharpen her tongue.
‘It’s boring,’ Callie said, talking fast. ‘We were kids. We grew up. I thought London would fix all my problems. Mae stayed here and did something sensible with her life. End of story.’
She smiled at Sam, then at the camera, like she’d just wrapped it up with a bow.
Sam didn’t look convinced.
‘I don’t think that’s the end of the story,’ he said slowly. ‘That’s like… the press-release version.’
Callie looked at Sam and thought, Himbo, my arse. She could see now that he was a shark. He’d smelled blood in the water, and now he was more than willing to bite her head off for one good, sharable clip.
Callie could feel Mae’s stare on her.
‘We’re not doing this on camera,’ Callie said to her, under her breath.
And that, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.
A dark shadow passed across Mae’s face, and the light, careless voice she’d been using around Sam suddenly vanished. Her voice became hard-edged steel.
‘Why not?’ she said. ‘Maybe Sam ought to know? I mean, you guys are maybe gonna get married or whatever the fuck happens if you win, right? Sam should know what happened. He should know who you are. That we were in love and then you broke me.’
Callie felt the colour drain out of her face. No one made a peep. Even Sam shut up.
‘Mae,’ she breathed.
‘What?’ Mae said. ‘Are you ashamed?’
Yes, Callie was ashamed. Deeply.
Back Then
Callie was standing in the kitchen, staring at the crack in the wall, lost in thoughts of the future. Once that conversation was had with Mae’s dad, concrete plans would be made. Tickets booked, a hostel room secured, just to start. They’d figure out the rest from there…
Beep went Callie’s phone.
Can you come round? Need to talk. I love you.
Was that good? Maybe not. Maybe it had been hard, and Mae needed a hug right now. And she’d get it.
‘Hey,’ her mum said from the doorway. ‘Can I have a word?’
Callie slid the phone into her pocket. ‘Sure,’ she said. She could go in five minutes.
‘Let’s sit.’
‘No. Just say whatever it is. I have to nip out.’
Her mum sat at the table. Callie sighed and joined her.
Her mum kept folding and unfolding her hands while Callie watched with growing anxiety. ‘I’ve been seeing someone,’ she said finally. ‘I met him at work. He’s a delivery driver.’
Callie blinked. That wasn’t what she’d expected. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Okay.’
‘It wasn’t planned,’ her mum added quickly, as if Callie had accused her of something. ‘None of it was. And I don’t know what’s going to happen with him. I think he’ll marry me, probably. It’s all happening a bit quicker than I’d first… But anyway.’
Callie nodded. ‘That’s good. I’m glad.’
‘Well, the thing is,’ her mum said. ‘I’m pregnant.’
The word dropped into the space between them like a plate shattering.
Pregnant.
Callie’s brain felt like it had fallen down a flight of stairs. Surely her mother was past the point of getting knocked up? Could you still pop them out at forty-five? ‘You’re…’ She stopped. Tried again. ‘You’re sure?’
Her mum gave a thin smile. ‘I’ve done three tests.’
Callie almost congratulated her. Before she understood what her mother was telling her. A baby. A baby in this house. That she was trying to leave.
Her mother was quick to prove her correct. ‘I know you had your plans, but this changes things. I’ll need your help,’ her mum said, and there it was. Not a question. A statement of fact. ‘More than ever, probably. I’m assuming you won’t be… going anywhere now.’
Callie laughed. It came out wrong. Too loud. Too brittle.
‘I—’ She swallowed. ‘Mum.’
Her mum’s eyes flickered. ‘What?’
‘No,’ Callie said. ‘I can’t stay.’
Her mum’s face hardened. Her idea of the soft approach was over. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is your family.’
‘I know,’ Callie said. ‘That’s the problem.’
She thought of George. Of the last year: the bus routes practised until he could do them alone, the way he’d stood a little taller when he realised he didn’t need her hovering over every step.
He was fifteen. He was anxious and particular, and stubborn as hell.
But he was going to be okay. He was okay.
A baby wouldn’t be.
‘You can’t just leave,’ her mum said, voice rising now. ‘I need you.’
‘I’m leaving tonight,’ Callie said before she knew what she’d said. And she meant it, she realised. She could just… go.
Her mum stared at her like she was a stranger. Like she’d betrayed her.
‘Go on, then,’ she said coldly. ‘If that’s who you are.’
Maybe it was, after all.
George was in his room, headphones on, watching a game walkthrough on YouTube with intense concentration. He looked up when Callie knocked.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked immediately. He’d always been good at that.
‘I’m going away,’ Callie said, sitting on the edge of his bed. ‘For a bit.’
He turned back to his video. ‘Yeah, I know.’
‘No, it’s happening sooner than I thought. It’s happening now, actually. Tonight.’
‘Oh. OK.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Do you need help packing?’
She almost broke at that.
‘I’m OK. And so are you. You’ve got this,’ she told him. ‘You’re doing so well, George. I’m so proud of you.’
He nodded, eyes shiny. ‘I know.’
‘And as soon as I land, I’ll text you my address. And you’ll visit all the time,’ she promised.
She meant it. She wasn’t leaving him. She was leaving her mother. She was leaving being a mother.
‘It’s one train journey to where I’m going. You can do that,’ she told him.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, of course.’
That was reassuring, his annoyance. He wasn’t worried about it.
They hugged awkwardly. Then she stood and walked out quickly; she didn’t trust herself to look back. If she saw his face break, so would she. And she couldn’t. She couldn’t!
Callie packed fast. Clothes, charger, passport, the envelope of savings she’d been hoarding.
She didn’t go back to the kitchen. She didn’t try to make it right with her mum. What would have been the point? She slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped out into the night like she might dissolve if she hesitated.
She had one thought. Get Mae. Get on the train. Don’t look back.
She texted her. I’m on my way to yours.
She wasn’t sure how Mae would take Callie’s sudden need to move the timeline up. But she’d talked to her dad, so that wasn’t an obstacle now. Maybe it would be OK. Maybe she’d be happy to go now. Maybe.
She arrived at the bakery and went around the side.
Mae was already sitting on the bottom step of the steel stairs.
‘Mae! God, you won’t believe the little chat I’ve just had with my mother.
I’ll explain it all later, but, and I know this is a bit last-minute and crazy and everything, but we need to go right now—’
That was when Callie realised that Mae’s face was blotchy and her eyes swollen. ‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’
‘I can’t go,’ Mae said.
Callie blinked. ‘What?’
‘I’m…’ Mae swallowed hard. ‘I’m not coming with you.’
The words didn’t make sense. They slid right off Callie’s brain like rain off a window.
‘We planned this.’
‘I know.’
‘We said we were leaving. Together.’
Mae shook her head, tears threatening. ‘I can’t. I want to. God, I want to more than anything, but…’ She shook her head again, slowly.
‘But what?’ Callie demanded angrily. How could Mae do this to her? She’d promised! They were in love! They were going to be in love forever! But not here!
Mae flinched. ‘My dad’s sick.’
Callie froze. ‘Sick how?’ she said tightly.
‘Cancer.’
Callie heard the word. But her mind, still furious and chaotic in the wake of her mother’s final manipulation, twisted it.
She saw Mae’s dad lying conveniently in a hospital bed. And her mother saying, ‘I’m assuming you won’t be going anywhere now.’
‘Mae,’ Callie said too sharply, ‘you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to play the good daughter just because someone decides they need you at the exact moment you’re trying to leave.’
Mae’s brows knit. ‘My dad isn’t “someone,” Callie.’
‘I know, but people say things. They exaggerate. They use illness as—’
‘As what?’ Mae’s voice cracked.
Callie couldn’t stop. The words were tumbling out now, horrid and stupid. ‘Just, just think, okay? Maybe he’s trying to keep you here. Maybe he knows you’re pulling away—’
‘Callie,’ Mae said, anger flaring through the tears, ‘how can you even say that? You can’t be this self-absorbed.’
Callie shut her eyes because deep down she knew. She knew Mae’s dad wasn’t like her mum.
But fear made everything look like a trap.
‘I just…’ Callie tried to backtrack, stumbling. ‘Mae, please. If you stay now, you’ll stay forever. That’s what happens. You think you’ll go later, but later never comes.’
‘I can’t leave him,’ Mae said helplessly. ‘He’s my dad.’
‘And what am I?’ Callie snapped. ‘Someone you make promises to and break?’
Mae reeled like she’d been slapped. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘None of this is fair!’ Callie shouted, voice cracking. ‘I need you. I need you to come with me, or I’m doing this alone—’
‘Then do it alone!’ Mae said, tears spilling now. ‘I can’t choose you over him, you vain, selfish fucking baby!’
The world dropped out from under Callie’s feet. For a second, she just stared at Mae, and she could see that Mae needed her. And she wanted to drop the bag, apologise. Stay. Comfort her.
But Callie had spent her whole life putting herself second. Today was the day she’d drawn a line. And Mae was falling on the other side of it.
‘Fine,’ Callie said stiffly. ‘Stay. Stay here forever.’
‘Callie, don’t—’
‘No, it’s clear. I’m leaving. You’re not.’ Her voice trembled. ‘End of story.’
Mae stood too, reaching for her. ‘Please don’t go like this.’
‘How else am I supposed to go?’ Callie demanded. ‘You’ve already decided.’
Mae’s face crumpled. ‘I love you.’
The words should have landed like a lifeline. Instead, they tore something open. Because what use was love if it kept you trapped? Was that all it was with Mae? Another trap?
Callie stepped back. Then another step. Then another.
‘Not enough,’ she whispered, even though the second she said it, she knew it was the cruellest lie she’d ever told.
Callie turned, ignoring the sound of tears. She walked to the train station with her bag digging into her shoulder and her chest splintering.
She stayed gone. She didn’t attend her mother’s registry wedding to Brian a few months later, nor did she show up for the birth of Hannah. She wasn’t there for the funeral three years later, either. How could she come back? After what she’d said?
She’d called Mae’s dad a liar and manipulator. A man who’d only ever been nice to her and had been dying and wanted his daughter to be there. And Callie had pissed on all that. On them. And then left Mae at the worst moment of her life.
There were some things you simply couldn’t come back from.
So Callie ran forward, to jobs and parties and flings—none of which went anywhere.
And then one day she was at some rich guy's party.
A producer was there and liked the look of her and asked if she wanted to be a reality show contestant.
She said fine. Then she went on another one and another one, and that turned into reality TV success—its own kind of failure.
And now here she was, doing this show, humiliating herself, in front of Mae. This was her ironic punishment for being who she was. A selfish piece of shit who had never deserved the love of the girl who worked in the bakery.