Chapter 5 #2
‘Do you have any friends?’ she demanded. ‘I mean, proper, love-you-at-your-worst, all-in, trust-with-your-own-life friends?’
I shook my head, swallowing back the lump in my throat.
‘I never really minded until now,’ I whispered. ‘I mean, it was a deliberate choice.’
Bronte shook her head in disbelief. ‘You chose to have no friends?’
‘I’m my own best friend,’ I said, realising as I said it out loud how miserable that sounded.
‘Well, lucky for you, I’m here. Give me two minutes.’
Bronte disappeared the way she’d come in, before ringing the doorbell a couple of minutes later.
When I went downstairs to open the front door, she was standing there with a large plastic tote bag and a dog.
‘What is this?’
Bronte pulled back her head, offended. ‘He’s a who, not a what. Ernest, meet Auntie Alex. She thinks she doesn’t like dogs, but that’s because she’s never met you.’
The dog was of indeterminate breed, about knee-high with a scruffy brown coat and enormous floppy ears. He took a couple of steps forward and sniffed my leg.
‘See. He won’t judge you for smelling like an old football boot.’
‘Very nice. Thanks for introducing us. Dare I ask why you’ve brought him all the way here?’
‘You need a friend. This one will love you unconditionally.’
‘Bronte, no.’
She ignored me, shooing the dog into the house and up the stairs. I followed him into the living room as he jumped onto the sofa as if he’d always belonged here.
‘He’ll need a walk every day, which means you get fresh air and exercise. He’s a great cuddler and, at the very least, will be a better best friend than your own self. Especially considering you are a complete shambles right now. No offence.’
I looked at her.
‘Ernest, by the way, is never offensive. Or offended.’
‘Are you trying to give me this dog? Because that’s not going to happen.’ I didn’t have time for a dog! My lifestyle was as anti-dog as it got.
She nodded at him, snoozing happily on my quilt. ‘I think it already has.’
I thought about this for a moment. He did look extremely cute, his blunt nose resting on oversized paws.
‘He can stay, temporarily, if you stay, too.’
Bronte folded her arms. We’d had this discussion many times before.
I wanted Bronte to experience a world outside of Crandon.
To get a taste of the opportunities available if she was prepared to leave behind one of the UK’s most deprived areas.
She could work for me, or study. I’d offered to fund her through an internship with past clients.
Even on the Winning at Life team, if she wanted, although that was now no longer an option.
She didn’t have to fight to overcome our family’s disadvantages the hard way, like I had.
And for goodness’ sake, why would she choose to stay?
‘How about you use your famous fixer skills on your own life, and then we can talk about how to fix mine?’
Well, she’d finally admitted her life might have room for improvement, so that was a start.
‘How about I fix my life, and then decide whether I want a pet or not?’
Bronte chewed on her bottom lip.
‘What?’
‘Yeah, it’s just, I kind of need you to have Ernest now.’
‘Because?’
‘Grandad got him. Apparently, you can make a fortune from pimping out pure-bred spaniels.’
‘Ah.’
‘Unsurprisingly, a dodgy certificate printed off the internet isn’t enough to convince serious dog breeders that there’s anything pure about Ernest.’
My dad had a habit of coming home with random items, full of grand schemes about how he’d make a fortune from them.
The sunbed that ended up rusting in the garden.
Boxes of ‘herbal’ teas that turned out to have potentially dangerous side-effects.
The kestrel egg from which he was going to start a falconry business, except that the egg never hatched and it bore a remarkable similarity to a duck egg, anyway.
‘I’ve been looking after him, but Zendon’s sister is allergic.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘And why would that make a difference?’
‘I’m moving in with his family after Christmas.’
‘What? Aren’t you… Isn’t it… You’re eighteen!’
Bronte looked at me for a long moment.
‘Can you blame me?’ she asked, her voice quiet.
How could I, when I’d got out of that house as soon as possible? ‘I don’t blame you for moving out. But why don’t you come here, at least for a few weeks?’
‘Because, unlike you, I have my beauty course, a budding nail-art business, friends in Leicester and a great boyfriend who I want to be with. Given your current no-friends situation, if I live here, what am I going to do? I love you, Auntie Alex, but would you have wanted to live in the middle of a forest at my age?’
The Christmas caravan popped uninvited into my head.
‘What about your mum, won’t she look after him?’
Something indecipherable flashed across Bronte’s face before she pulled her features back into teenage indifference. ‘She’s too busy with the kids. Anyway, she’s acting even weirder than usual at the moment and refusing to admit there’s anything wrong. You should speak to her. Please.’
I didn’t mention that I had, and it hadn’t gone well.
‘Okay, I’ll give her a call.’
‘Great. I’ll head back then. I’ve got stuff to do for college tomorrow. And don’t worry, I’ll tell everyone you’re having a lovely self-care break. Don’t forget to speak to Mum, though. Love you!’
I could have insisted she took Ernest. But the truth was, I saw myself mirrored in his mournful brown eyes and didn’t have the heart to send him back.