Chapter 10 #2
Unease sours my stomach again and I try to vanquish it with another sip of the delicious wine.
I was just starting to relax and enjoy myself.
I don’t want to dwell on that night, don’t want to think about my misbehaving memory and all the reasons we might have concocted a smokescreen to blur the reality of Gen’s drowning.
Becca breaks our gaze. Her hand trembles slightly on her wineglass as she takes a sip. I search for something to say, a way back to the ease of a few moments ago. Her phone rings, saving us.
She grabs it. ‘Yes, hello? Oh, hi Jameson.’ She cocks an eyebrow at me and her lips tilt. ‘Where are you guys? Eilish is here already. We’re having a drink – getting a head start on you!’
A moment of silence, punctuated by uh-huhs and mmm-hmms. ‘I see. Okay, but be careful; it’s quite a trek in this weather.
I bet Leo’s not dressed for it.’ Her laughter peals, pearly and smooth.
A few moments later, she ends the call, and turns to me.
‘They’ve had to abandon the car on the main road and walk it, just as I thought.
Depending on their navigation skills and footwear, they should be here in about half an hour or so.
I’ll just let Euan know they’re on their way. ’
I nod and curl my fingers around the stem of my wineglass. My heart flutters. The almost-miss of the last few minutes has unsettled me. For a moment there, I almost remembered. The veil over my memory fluttered but didn’t lift. I breathe deeply to try to regain my equilibrium.
If not for her ringing phone, maybe I’d have come out and asked her why she lied. Why we lied.
I’m glad I didn’t. We’re not ready to dive so deep. Not yet.
I have a feeling we will, though. Sooner or later.
Alex’s words again:
Time to face up to things. Who she was. Who we were …
What did he mean by that? I know exactly who Gen was. She was the best friend a girl could want.
I know who I was too.
*
After Jameson’s call, the conversation flows again.
Becca has a skill for small talk, and doesn’t let things grow awkward.
She tells me all about her decision to return to Tarnmore, her plan to open a country goods store and deli-café on the estate in the spring, and her burgeoning relationship with Euan.
They met at a horse show in the summer before she got him the job with her parents.
I find myself softening, warming, hankering for more of this connection.
First Alex, now Becca.
But I know she’s a charmer, unerringly social – it’s hard to know if this net of camaraderie she’s spun around me is affection or affectation.
I never really knew where I stood with her.
Still, I relax a bit after the conversation veers out of the dangerous waters of West Sands.
I chat a bit about my job, though she does most of the talking, and I’m fine with that.
I sip my wine, feel my tense muscles start to release.
Eventually, inevitably, the conversation turns back to St Andrews and our early uni days – that crazy, perfect time.
Becca curates our reminiscences – only the best bits. Safe.
We talk about our self-made traditions, the drum beats to which our friendship danced. It’s nice, remembering together. We were so tightly interwoven, almost … family.
Euan brings us a bowl of crisps, tops up our wineglasses. Becca catches his arm and pulls him down for a long, showy kiss that embarrasses me. ‘Sit, babe, have a drink with us?’
‘I’m still getting dinner sorted. I’ll join you later,’ Euan says gruffly, with a hint of a smile beneath his beard as he looks fondly at her.
Becca glances at the slim, gold watch circling her wrist. ‘Actually, d’you think you could nip out and look for the boys? They should be here by now …’
Euan pulls a face. ‘You want me to go out in that snow again?’
She flutters her eyelashes at him. ‘You know what Leo’s like – we can’t leave him blundering about in the blizzard …’
The familiarity in her tone jars, sets me apart. Even Euan is more part of my friend group than I am now. I wonder if they double date with Leo and Kimmy, enjoy wine-soaked dinner parties …
Loneliness pierces my bones, fiercer than the cold outside, deeper. Worse now that I know what I’ve been missing.
‘He’s not on his own,’ Euan objects. ‘Surely one of them has some sense of direction and can follow a path.’
‘Please, babe.’ She pouts in a way that makes my skin crawl, but it seems to have the desired effect on Euan.
‘Fine.’
When Euan leaves, Becca winks at me. ‘He’s so obliging, and easy on the eye too, don’t you think?’
I shrug and she laughs at my discomfort.
She steers the conversation back to St Andrews again, and we find ourselves talking about Gen.
All these years with no one to share her with, just memories bouncing around my brain.
It’s as irresistible as it is uncomfortable to talk about her.
I like having someone to share her with.
Having steered us here, Becca now sits back and lets me talk.
She listens and sips her wine. I’m in the middle of an anecdote – ‘Remember that time she threw a pint over that guy who got grabby with me in the pub one time?’ – when I notice a strange look come over her face.
Her smile is tight, her eyes glittering.
‘She was always looking out for me,’ I continue, floundering a bit at her expression.
I expected the story to get a laugh out of her.
‘The look on his face was priceless … he had beer dripping from his hair …’
I trail off. Becca is looking at her nails. I try to pull things back on track. I’m bad at this; if anyone else told this story I’m sure it would sound hilarious. ‘She was loyal is the point. Always ready to do battle for her friends …’
‘For you, perhaps …’ Becca smooths her expression as she looks up but there’s still a shadow on her brow.
It’s always been a comfort to me that Gen loved me enough to fight my foes. That she’d always had my back. My memories of her are pristine, perfect. ‘She’d go out to bat for us,’ I say, sounding a little stubborn now. I want her to agree with me, validate my memory of her.
‘For you,’ Becca says again. ‘Not us.’
I remember the discontent that floated between Gen and Becca in the early days.
But that weekend at Tarnmore, they bonded.
I didn’t think they ever disliked each other; they just didn’t have much in common.
Something in Becca’s carefully schooled expression makes me pause.
‘I know you guys had your moments,’ I say weakly, but she cuts me off, anger straining her voice.
‘Moments? If you call being relentlessly bullied having moments, then yes.’ She drains her glass and sets it down with an air of brittle insouciance. She’s holding herself together, but barely.
I stare at her. ‘Bullied?’
Surely no one could accuse Gen of that, except maybe Kimmy: what happened between them was pretty nasty. But after Gen found out about Kimmy and Leo, she wasn’t thinking straight. She did a horrible thing, no question; but she was hurting, not in her right mind.
Becca sighs, like she doesn’t want to have this conversation and isn’t sure how we got here.
‘Look, I know she was your bestie, but yes, Genevieve bullied me, okay? I’ve never said that out loud before.
’ She exhales deeply. ‘Sorry, I know it’s not nice to say bad stuff about people when they’re dead.
And this is not the time for this conversation. I didn’t mean to bring it up.’
I don’t know what to say. I just keep staring at her, like I’m waiting for her to burst into peals of laughter and tell me she was joking.
I’m searching for something to say to ease the tension when Becca puts me out of my misery, recovering her composure. ‘Look, she could be cruel, sometimes, but it’s old news, water under the bridge.’ She tilts her head, curious. ‘You honestly didn’t see it?’
I shake my head. Sure, I remember Gen poking fun at folk sometimes – often Becca, I suppose. She had a wicked sense of humour and some of her comments could be a little … sharp. But I never took any of it seriously. I thought it was all just a laugh …
Oh God!
Was Gen bullying Becca right under my nose and I never noticed?
I stare at Becca, horrified. ‘Did I … participate?’
She waves a hand. ‘No, Eilish, of course not. Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. My issues with Gen are my problem, not yours. It was all so long ago, I’m over it.’
She doesn’t sound over it.
Becca gets up to pour us both more wine, but I demur and ask for a hot drink instead. ‘Of course,’ she says brightly. ‘I’ll bring us both some tea. I must remember to get you the Wi-Fi code so you can connect your phone – Euan’s probably already told you about the terrible reception …’
She whisks out of the room, her spirits seemingly recovered, and I set down my glass and bury my face in my hands. I feel like crying. Becca’s revelation was a lot – but I can’t think about it right now. The cognitive dissonance is too much.
Becca a victim.
And Genevieve, her cruel and callous bully.
It’s too far removed from those rose-clad memories I’ve languished in for so long. I’m reminded of my brother’s words in that awful phone call: You live in the past, Eilish … Some rose-tinted fucking version of it …
Maybe he has a point.
And maybe this whole reunion is going to be even harder than I anticipated. If my version of Gen isn’t the same as theirs, if more secrets are going to spill like poison …
I don’t think I could handle that.
But before I can think too deeply about it, I hear a door slam somewhere and Becca shrieks from the hallway. ‘They’re here, Eilish. The boys are here!’