Chapter 30
TORI
The upper sixth have finished their A levels now, and I’ve never been so aware that I’ve only got one more year at Dunbridge Academy before it’s our turn to be nervously awaiting the results.
I’ve never taken much interest in it before, but I’ve just come out of a geography exam and see Eleanor, Louis and a few others from their year I’ve got to know better doing the play. I hear a few scraps of conversation.
‘Val looked really sick during the exams, did you hear?’
‘Do you think he didn’t get the grades?’
‘What will he do if he hasn’t?’
I’m irritated with myself that my first reaction is one of sympathy.
It really would be crap to fail your A levels.
Especially given his parents’ expectations and his overachiever of a big sister.
I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even Val.
Unless, of course, he didn’t do any work until it was too late because he was relying on having his uncle at the school to coach him through. Then he’d deserve all he got.
But who am I to judge?
What is it to me whether Val passes his exams? Mind you, I do care because what if he came back to do resits next year? In our form. Oh, God, no . . .
The mere idea of that makes my throat constrict. I’d been banking on never having to see him again after a few more weeks. I’d be fine with that, especially since he’s recently started dating Chloe in the fifth form and I feel an urgent need to warn her. Like Eleanor felt about me.
‘Sorry, I . . . Oh.’ I ram both feet into the ground as I turn the corner and almost collide with someone.
‘Can’t you look where you’re going?’
I shiver as Val’s eyes meet mine. They’re icy.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ I snap.
For a moment, Val looks as surprised as I feel. But just the sight of him makes me livid.
He huffs and eyes me up. ‘Are you here to apologize?’
At first I think he’s pulling my leg. But he’s straight-faced. He means it. I laugh in disbelief. ‘Seriously? Apologize? What for, Val?’
He narrows his eyes to slits. ‘For being as underhand and sly as Eleanor.’
He says it and he means it. I can see it on his face.
Valentine Ward slithered into my mind, made himself at home there, like a virus, and feels no guilt.
Not even a hint of it. And he’ll never change, no matter how many ugly break-ups he has.
It’ll always be the woman’s fault, never his.
Obviously, because we’re all obsessive, sick and pitiable.
But I’m done with being angry. I’m not wasting any more energy on him. He’s not remotely worth it. An almost eerie peace spreads through me as I slowly shake my head.
‘The only thing I’m sorry for is having got involved with you in the first place. That, and that you’ll never understand it.’
‘You’re making a fool of yourself,’ he says. ‘Did you really think I was serious about you?’
Aha, we’re going down that line now.
‘Val, I don’t wish anything bad on you. Just for you to meet someone who treats you the way you treated me.’
‘Yeah, me too,’ he calls after me as I walk away. ‘That’s the least I deserve.’
That’s the least you deserve.
My heart doesn’t start racing until I’ve turned the corner and I’m going downstairs. I’ve got ten minutes till my next class, so I drop onto one of the benches out in the courtyard.
It’s really weird. I wish I could claim that I truly believe all that. Believe I’m done with Valentine and be absolutely certain that what he did to me was out of order. But a horribly large part of my brain can’t stop asking stupid what-if questions.
What if I’d given him fewer reasons to get angry? What if he’s kind of right?
Because I did kind of want it. To be Valentine Ward’s girlfriend. To go to the New Year Ball with him, to feel special. To feel those butterflies in my stomach that all those bloody romance novels talk about. The nervous fluttering I always felt around Val – I honestly thought that was it.
But now I don’t think butterflies in your stomach are necessarily a sign of love.
It’s my body’s way of telling me that something isn’t right.
It’s nerves. It’s tiring. Excitement, anxiety.
Will he notice me? Will we have fun? How can I please him?
And, oh, God, it’s so wrong, yet I kept on doing it, ignoring all the little warning signs.
Everything Eleanor said about him a while back feels true.
That the way he treated us wasn’t OK. That maybe it was toxic.
I always thought a toxic relationship was one where someone’s partner manipulates them into losing trust in themselves.
But, apparently, there are subtler versions.
Valentine and I were only mildly toxic, but that doesn’t make it only mildly bad.
And we weren’t even in a relationship. We had a few date-like evenings and we kissed.
But, even so, I can’t stop thinking about it.
Should I have noticed sooner? Did I only put up with it so I didn’t have to admit that everyone around me was right?
It’s no basis for anything if you feel sick every time you see him. Because you never know which version of him you’re going to get. Because his words and actions are always out of synch, and his voice changes more quickly than the Scottish weather.
Fall in love with the person you feel safe with. You feel calm with. That’s the person you love. Because you’re yourself around him, without even noticing.
I knew who that person was, I knew it the whole time, and that’s probably the worst bit of this whole thing. Because there’d have been no need for any of that with Val if Charlie and I had got our act together a bit sooner.
Charlie. He’s the person who feels like home.
He was that person right from the start, and part of me knew it all along.
Whenever I saw him. He’s my best friend, my soul-mate, my lover.
And he’s gorgeous in uniform, the blazer setting off the breadth of his shoulders as he and the others come through the gate. I stand up as they approach.
‘So?’ he asks, taking my hand. ‘How was geography?’
The mere fact that he knows which exam I had says more than a thousand words.
‘Fine.’ I shrug. ‘How was Latin?’
‘Don’t ask . . . At least it’s over with.’
I have to smile.
‘Did Henry finish in half an hour again?’
‘Of course he did. Twenty-five minutes, tops. Which gave him plenty of time to daydream about Emma, so we don’t need to guess at what those two are up to now!’
‘Yeah, they’re out for a run, of course.’
‘Aye, right, what else?’ He puts his arm around my shoulders and lowers his voice. ‘Oh, but it’s today, isn’t it?’
‘Maeve’s birthday?’ I ask. Charlie nods. ‘I think so.’
‘Did you get the chance to ask Emma what they’re doing later?’
‘They don’t have any plans,’ I say. ‘She’ll get him to come down to the bakery about eight.’
‘Excellent,’ says Charlie. ‘We can bake the cake before that.’
‘I hope he’ll be pleased. You don’t reckon he’ll think it’s in bad taste, do you?’
Charles shakes his head. ‘I think Henry will be pleased and that Maeve would like it too.’
‘She really would.’
‘So shall we go down straight after dinner?’
I nod and stand on tiptoe to give Charlie a kiss. He looks surprised for a moment, then kisses me back.
‘What was that for?’
‘Just because,’ I murmur, pulling him towards the door.
Olive appears suddenly. ‘Hey, have you heard?’ she asks. ‘The uniform policy’s not changing.’
‘What?’ I pull away from Charlie. ‘Why?’
‘Mrs Sinclair’s going to announce it in assembly. I heard from Dad. Apparently the governors voted against it.’
I laugh quietly. ‘Seriously? They get to wear whatever they want.’
‘They were of the opinion that dressing appropriately is one of the traditions of Dunbridge Academy.’ Olive shrugs.
I laugh again. ‘So what do we do now?’
Charlie glances at me.
‘What are you doing this evening?’ I ask Olive.
‘Nothing, why?’
‘Good, meet you at the bakery after dinner then.’
SINCLAIR
It’s a long time since it’s mattered to me so much for a cake to be good as it does with this birthday cake for Henry’s sister Maeve.
He has no idea when Tori and Olive open the shop door to him and Emma, just after eight.
Then he spots Gideon and Grace and starts to look a little uncertain.
I was surprised too, but I respect Grace for wanting to be here for Henry this evening, even though I can imagine how painful it is for her to see him with Emma.
I’d expected that my friend would cry, but I feel extra bad about it this time. Perhaps because Henry’s trying his hardest to pull himself together as he stares at the cake. The candlelight flickers in his glittering eyes.
‘Really?’ he asks, for the third time, bending over slightly as I nod.
Tori takes my hand as Henry hesitates.
‘Happy birthday to you,’ he whispers, then blows out the candles. Emma wipes away his tears and gives him a hug as he steps back.
We don’t talk about it so often any more, but I can imagine that, at moments like this, it feels as unbearable as it did right after Maeve died.
I hold off on cutting the cake until Emma lets go of Henry. The others all give him a quick hug, and then it’s my turn.
Henry and I don’t often hug, but when we do, we do it properly.
After almost seven years at school, he really is like a brother to me, and the idea that he might just not be here one day makes me want to boak.
I’ll never be able to comprehend how he must feel, but I know I’ll always do everything in my power to make it a bit more bearable for him.
Even if it’s only a stupid cake – I’d bake him one every day if it would help.
Today it’s helping. I’m sure of that as Henry watches – lips pressed together like always when he’s trying not to cry – while I cut the cake.
I give him the first slice and, because he’s Henry, he passes it to Emma.
Then I hand plates around to everybody else.
Grace’s smile is kind of strained as she looks at her piece.
Her eyes go to Gideon. ‘Want to share?’ she asks.
Gideon hesitates, and I can’t help noticing the way he looks at her, but he nods, if slightly unwillingly.
And I don’t think that’s because he feels he’s being short-changed.
I remember what Henry said that time. Looking at her now, even I can see that Grace has lost weight.
Gideon takes a bite, then pushes the plate firmly back to her.
Henry glances sidelong at them, then turns his attention to his own plate. You can see he doesn’t have any appetite, but it’s Maeve’s favourite, so he has to try it: the chocolate cake we supply to the Blue Room Café in Ebrington, and it’s turned out incredibly well, though I say so myself.
‘Another slice?’ I ask Henry, as he pushes his plate aside.
He shakes his head. ‘No, thanks. But it was perfect. Maeve would have given it ten out of ten.’
‘Excellent.’ I scrape my plate clean with my fork.
‘You know this Farewell to the Upper Sixth at the end of the month,’ Emma says suddenly, ‘what will it be like?’
‘Kind of like the Monday assemblies, only more of a celebration,’ Olive explains.
‘Mrs Sinclair gives a speech, there are photos, and drinks and nibbles afterwards,’ Gideon adds.
‘Oh, OK. I thought it was something like the Abi prank.’
‘The what?’ Henry asks.
‘The Abi prank. In Germany, when they’ve finished their Abitur, the leavers play some kind of practical joke. Don’t you have anything like that?’
I look around the room, and shrug.
‘No, but it sounds fun,’ Tori says. ‘The Farewell is more of a formal thing.’
‘Uniform, then?’
Henry nods. Earlier, at dinner, everyone had been talking about the fact that Tori and the others hadn’t been able to change anything.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Tori says slowly. ‘If we really want to get anywhere, we have to go public, make our voice heard. How better can we do that than on social media?’
‘What were you thinking?’ asks Grace.
‘Set up Instagram and TikTok accounts,’ she explains. ‘Partly so that everyone else at school knows what we’re planning, and partly to get attention, which in turn will get us coverage.’
‘So, we keep going?’ Emma asks.
‘Well, the Farewell to the Upper Sixth would be the perfect opportunity,’ Olive says.
Henry sounds concerned: ‘It’s kind of a major occasion.’
‘All the better,’ says Tori.
‘Yes, we could start on Monday, when Mrs Sinclair gives the news,’ says Olive. ‘As a little taster of what we’ll be wearing for the Farewell.’
Grace straightens. ‘I’m in this time. How about you, boys?’
‘It’s breaking the rules,’ says Henry.
‘Maeve would love it,’ I say. ‘It was so important to her.’
‘She would love it,’ he agrees. ‘So does this mean we’re wearing skirts?’
‘We’re wearing skirts,’ I confirm. ‘For Maeve and for equal rights.’
Emma jumps up and measures Henry’s hips, then her own. ‘I’ve got one that’s too loose. I bet it would fit you.’
‘We’ll take care of the Insta,’ Tori tells Grace and Olive. ‘Put up all the key information so everyone can join in.’
‘Yes.’ Henry sounds properly excited now – it’s cute. ‘Maybe the others really will join in. That would be just what Maeve always wanted. Everyone can wear whatever they like.’
Emma turns back to the cake. ‘Well, I’d say that’s worth another slice, wouldn’t you?’