Chapter Twenty-Nine Jade
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jade
It’s that strange week between Christmas and the new year, when no one knows what day or time it is, and the whole atmosphere feels somewhere between a holiday and sick leave.
There’s a half-eaten advent calendar propped up on the kitchen counter, empty Quality Street wrappers strewn about like confetti, and the whole flat smells like a weird combination of leftover gravy and brandy custard.
I’m curled into the corner of the settee, scrolling through social media, not really seeing anything, just killing time until I can bring myself to say what needs saying.
Mum’s bustling around the kitchenette. It’s barely big enough for one person, and she keeps banging her hip on the corner of the fridge and swearing under her breath.
She yanks a cottage pie out of the oven and thuds it on the hob, then glances at me with an expression that’s hard to decipher, somewhere between irritation and confusion.
Her hair’s up in a messy bun, and there’s an angry spot on her left cheek. I clear my throat.
‘So . . . I was thinking I might do a bit of travelling.’ I try to sound casual, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world for me to announce. My heart’s hammering so loud I’m sure she can hear it over the whirr of the extractor fan.
She stares at me. ‘Travelling?’ she echoes, as if I’ve announced my intention to become a Buddhist monk.
‘You’re going travelling?’ Her mouth opens, then closes.
She pulls off her oven gloves like she’s peeling off a layer of skin and drops into a chair, her whole body deflating like a paddling pool with a slow leak.
‘Yeah, first Australia and New Zealand, and then maybe Thailand and Vietnam, I haven’t quite figured it out yet.’
She fixes me with a suspicious look. ‘Was this Zac’s idea?’
Typical that she’s crediting Zac, as if I’m incapable of independent thought.
‘No. I’m not going with Zac.’
‘You’re not?’ She shakes her head like she’s got water in her ears.
‘No.’
‘So, who are you going with?’
‘I’m going by myself.’
‘You’re going to the other side of the world on your own?’ Mum’s voice is weirdly soft, but she clasps her fingers together until they whiten at the knuckles.
‘Why not?’ I say, forcing a smile. ‘You always said you wished you’d seen the world. I thought you’d be excited for me. At least you get your living room back. And the sofa.’
She gives me a long, assessing look, like she’s trying to see if I’m screwing with her.
But her eyes are red and tired, and she just can’t carry off the hard stare anymore.
‘Jade, love. You’ve never been further than the Costa Brava.
And even there you didn’t like the food and couldn’t handle the heat. ’
‘That was ages ago,’ I protest. ‘And you can get burgers and chips anywhere these days. Also, my taste buds have evolved. I’m basically a citizen of the world now.
’ I try to laugh, but it comes out almost like a hiccup.
She’s still watching me, not buying it for a second.
I look away at the greasy window with condensation trickling down the inside.
There’s a beat of silence between us, just the hum of the fridge and the sound of my own pulse in my ears. Neither of us moves. ‘It’ll be good for me,’ I add finally. ‘I’m stuck in a rut here.’
She sighs. ‘I’m not disagreeing with that, but the world’s a mess these days. Look at the news – there’s war and disease and all these awful things happening. It’s not safe, a young woman off on her own. There are weirdos everywhere.’
‘There are weirdos in Southampton too,’ I say. ‘You can’t live your whole life being scared of what might happen. And I’ll meet other travellers along the way, people like me.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about. You won’t know who they are, what they might have done. What they’re capable of doing.’
And vice versa, I think to myself.
A twinge of guilt plucks at my chest. Even though Mum annoys the hell out of me, I don’t like thinking of her all alone, worrying.
But if I’m going to become Bella, then I need a plausible explanation for why I’m no longer around.
I blink, not quite feeling real. I can’t quite believe that Mum will never hear from me again – that we’ll never have another conversation.
But I can’t let myself get emotional. Not now.
It’s too late for that luxury. I have to do what’s best. Things have gone too far for me to change my mind.
‘What does Zac think about you going off without him?’ Mum asks.
I feel a little ache in my chest when I think back to last week.
To his expression when I called things off with him.
He looked so forlorn. Granted, it was mean breaking up with him two days before Christmas, but I genuinely didn’t think he’d be that upset.
To be honest, I never treated him that well.
I was actually a bit of a bitch. I thought he’d be relieved to be shot of me.
His mum will definitely be celebrating – Happy Christmas, Mrs Hughes.
‘Zac and I broke up, Mum.’
‘Oh.’ She suddenly looks older than her fifty-four years. Her skin is sagging slightly, and there are smokers’ lines around her mouth. Which reminds me, I’ll have to ditch the ciggies once I’m Bella. That’s going to be hard – even the thought of nicotine has me gasping for a drag.
‘We’d been drifting apart anyway,’ I add.
Mum nods. ‘Are we eating this cottage pie, or what? Although, tell you the truth, after your news, I’m not feeling too hungry right now.’
‘I’ll dish up.’ I push down a flare of guilt, ease myself off the sofa, and walk past Mum towards the kitchenette.
As I pass, she takes hold of my hand. ‘I’d have loved to go travelling when I was your age,’ she says quietly.
I pause, taken aback by her confession. ‘So why don’t you? Go and see the world.’
‘Oh, you make it sound so easy.’ Mum rolls her eyes. ‘But it’s not that simple at my age. Bills, work . . .’
‘It is that easy!’ I reply, keen to deflect the conversation away from my leaving. ‘You could rent this place out. Use the money to travel.’
She sniffs, then wipes at her nose with the sleeve of her jumper. Avoiding my suggestion, she asks, ‘When are you off, then?’
I pause and have the grace to look a bit sheepish. ‘Tomorrow.’ The word drops like a grenade between us. I’m sort of impressed with how smoothly I say it, but inside, my stomach is doing backflips.
‘What? Tomorrow? No. Jade, that’s crazy. Why so soon? That’s no time for a proper goodbye or anything.’ She gets to her feet and stares me in the eye until I look away and busy myself locating a serving spoon.
‘I wanted to tell you sooner, but then I thought it would be easier for both of us this way. No dragging out a long goodbye.’ I try for honesty, or at least something that sounds like it.
She stands up, comes over to me, and for a second I think she’s going to slap me, but instead she says, ‘You make it sound like you’re disappearing forever. When will you be back?’
I shrug. ‘It’s an open ticket, so . . .’
She shakes her head and sits again, stares at the wall, eyes glazed. Then, as if remembering something, she looks over. ‘How are you paying for all this?’
I shrug. ‘I’ve been saving. And I’ll work while I’m away. There’s loads of fruit farms and hostels, and bars that hire backpackers. It’s what everyone does.’
‘So you’ve no idea when you’ll be home?’
I shake my head.
‘But you’ll call me every week, let me know you’re okay?’
‘Once I get a new SIM,’ I say.
‘I won’t be able to call on your old number?’
‘No, but—’
‘Jade, I don’t like the sound of this. At all.’
I can feel her fear, thick and metallic in the air. I almost want to hug her, but I don’t. I never really learned how.
She stretches her lips into an unconvincing smile. ‘You always were a stubborn one. I can’t stop you, can I?’
‘Nope. Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll be fine. I’ll be living my best life. Same way you can do now, without me cluttering up the place.’
She snorts. ‘Don’t try and make it sound like this is you doing me a favour, Jade. I can’t say it won’t be nice having the place to myself for a while, but I still want you close by. You’re my daughter.’
‘And you’re my mum.’ I hate how it comes out so raw, like I’m five and scared of the dark.
There’s a long, draining moment where neither of us speaks, and her eyes go glassy, and my stomach fills up with guilt, lifting my ribs until I think they’ll snap.
I stare at nothing, willing the silence to settle and become manageable.
Instead, it tips over the edge and keeps falling, echoing the truth that I’m not just leaving – I’m vanishing. Or at least Jade is.
I want this part to be over. To relegate Mum’s hurt expression to history. I want to be living Bella’s life already, without my mother guilt-tripping me.
‘Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold.
’ I scrape the cottage pie on to plates, using the motion as a way to focus on something that isn’t my mother’s devastated expression.
Reminding myself that this is what I wanted.
Remembering all the weeks of hard work that have got me here. My new life is within tasting distance.
As I hand a plate to Mum, she looks up at me, her eyes glistening. ‘Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, Jade. Don’t do anything . . . stupid.’
I nod, even though ‘stupid’ is all I’ve ever done.
‘If you hate it, you can always come back,’ she adds, voice tight.
‘That’s not the plan, Mum. I want to see what else is out there.
Even if it’s just . . . something different.
’ I don’t mention that what’s out there is already mapped and measured – a house, a career, a bank account.
I’m inheriting someone else’s ‘different’ like it’s a hand-me-down jumper.
I change tack and try to lighten the mood.
‘Besides. You’ll be so busy catching up on all your true-crime podcasts, you won’t even notice I’m gone. ’
She can’t manage a smile. ‘Let’s eat before it gets cold.’
It occurs to me that this is probably the last meal we’ll ever have together, and immediately, I start counting every chew, every swallow, like I have to log it in my memory for later.
I almost wish she’d start an argument. It would be easier than this.
She barely touches her food. I wolf mine down, too fast. I want to get to the next step, the one where I’m not Jade anymore.
I want to be Bella, with no history and nothing to be sorry for.
Mum goes to bed before ten, claiming she’s tired, but I know she won’t sleep.
Once I hear her bedroom door click shut, I go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror for a long time.
I turn my head from side to side, trying to see what Bella saw when she looked in the mirror.
There’s the same nose, same small gap in my front teeth.
But where I see a jumble of bits, Bella probably saw perfection.
I need to become her now, all smooth lines and easy charm.
I slide the envelope from the back pocket of my jeans.
My hands shake as I open it again. The Polaroid is smaller than I remember.
In the picture, she looks like she’s asleep, aside from the bullet hole in her forehead and the fresh, red blood pooling around her head.
The way her face is slack and grey makes my stomach drop.
I read somewhere that if you lose your twin, you lose half your soul.
I wonder if that’s true, and if so, which half do I have left?
I take a cheap orange lighter from my pocket and hold the photograph over the sink.
I flick the little wheel and see the flame spark to life.
Hold it to the corner of the Polaroid and watch as the shiny image curls and smoulders, finally catching light and disappearing into ash.
I drop the final corner into the sink and run the cold tap until the smell of smoke recedes.
It was torture waiting to hear back. Waiting to receive photographic proof that ‘it’ had happened. Wondering whether or not it even would, or if the hitman (or Corolla Man, as I prefer to think of him) would simply skip off into the sunset with my cash, leaving Bella unharmed.
I borrowed the remainder of his fee off Dodgy Steve, promising to pay him back double by the end of next month in either cash or designer gear. I’ve never given him any reason to doubt me, so he stumped up the money, and I managed to get it to Corolla Man the same day.
And then, this lunchtime, while Mum was working, a hand-delivered padded envelope with my name on the front came through the door.
I opened it straightaway, hands shaking.
Inside were two of Bella’s bank cards, a driving licence, her iPhone, and the Polaroid.
I almost wish I hadn’t asked for a photo because, even now that I’ve destroyed it, I’m never going to be able to get the image out of my head. But I had to have proof.
I’m sure these numb, sick, guilty feelings will all recede in time, and I’ll be able to enjoy myself again. I have to keep sight of why I’m doing this. I have to remember that her life is the one I should have had. That I’m only getting back what’s rightfully mine.
And now it’s done. It’s finally time for me to become Bella Newbury.