Bet Your Life (8 page)

It was on the tip of my tongue to say I wasn’t dressed for going out, but I had only got as far as opening my mouth to reply when he continued, “I wanted to see if Hugo felt like coming along.”

He had come to see Hugo, not me. He had stayed in the kitchen and talked to me out of politeness, because I’d assumed he was there for me and he was too kind to tell me the truth. I felt like sinking to the floor under the weight of humiliation. Through a smile that felt stiff on my face, I said, “Well, you can ask Hugo, but I don’t know if he’ll be interested. He’s in the sitting room, probably chatting up my best friend.”

“Which one?”

“Ella.”

“I remember,” he said, in a way that made me feel he really did. “If he’s that keen, she can come along too.”

And he still didn’t ask if I wanted to join them, I noticed.

“Thanks for the tea,” he said, and headed for the door.

I went after him, but I stopped short of touching him. “Will.”

He turned and looked down at me, and I’d have said his expression was tender rather than anything more hostile.

“You said you had two questions.”

“I did.”

“You only really asked one.”

“I’m going to save the other one, I think. I will ask you. But not now.”

“Because what my life needs is more suspense.”

“Everyone needs something to make their hearts beat faster,” Will said, and gave me a smile that made my heart race, as I thought he probably knew it would.

I stood in the kitchen after he’d gone. I couldn’t follow him. I couldn’t be in the same room as him and listen to him making arrangements to go out without me. I didn’t want everyone to watch me and how I was around him or, worse,
not
watch me because it was too embarrassing all round. In the end I slipped through the hall, past the door to the sitting room, which was thankfully closed. I ran up the many stairs to my room, where I got into bed to read. It was cold in my lovely attic room with all its windows, and bed was the best solution.

It would also make it easy to decline a belated invitation to join them, I thought. Who gets out of bed to go out drinking? Not me.

As it turned out, it didn’t matter. No one asked me to.

Ella tapped on my door about an hour later and poked her head in. “Are you all right?”

“Never better,” I lied. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. I’m heading to bed too.”

“Not out?”

She smiled. “Not this time. Although Hugo did try to persuade me to go.”

“And you said no.”

“Playing hard to get.”

“Good idea. Keenness is anathema to Hugo. He hates enthusiasm.”

“How sweet,” Ella said, and I thought she was properly smitten if she imagined Hugo was sweet.

“Is Hugo going?”

“Gone.”

“Where were they heading?”

“They didn’t know. They said they’d find something to do.”

“On a Sunday night? Good luck.”

Ella came into the room properly and shut the door behind her, then sat on the edge of my bed. “So.”

“So?”

“I met Will.”

“I thought you might have, given that you were in the same room and everything.” I put my book down. “Well?”

“He’s—” Ella shook her head. “Oh, girl. I see the problem.”

“Do you?”

“I think so.” She held up her hands and counted off on her fingers. “Gorgeous. Nice voice.
Beautiful
eyes. Good manners. Sense of humor. Obviously clever—I mean, Hugo said he wants to study medicine so he must be intelligent. What am I forgetting? Oh, he’s really impressively fit. Marks out of ten? I’d give him a solid nine.”

“Why did he lose a mark?”

“You can see a mile off that he has
ishoos
.” Ella rolled her eyes. “Life’s too short for that kind of thing.”

“It’s a little harsh to punish him for something he can’t help.”

“Oh, I only took off a half-mark for that. The other half was for breaking your heart.”

I gave a little sigh. “Well, that wasn’t his fault. That was all mine.”

“You see, I’m going to need the full story.”

“The full story is that I broke up with him.” I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want to see the surprise on her face. “I broke my own heart and maybe chipped a bit off his. Take it from me, you should give him ten out of ten.”

“Why did you break up? Did he cheat on you?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“Well, I don’t get it. If he’s super-perfect and he wanted to be with you and you are completely damaged by breaking up with him, why did you do it?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m pretty good at listening.”

“Will’s dad told him he’d send him away to boarding school to stop us from being together. Don’t even ask me to explain why he’d care.” I couldn’t go into the whole
Dan-loved-my-mother-once-and-maybe-still-does
thing there and then. “I thought I’d save him the trouble. If we broke up, Will could stay and be with his mother. You know she’s dying.”

“Hugo said.” Ella’s face was grave.

“No one knows how long she’s got left. I couldn’t be selfish about it. How I felt didn’t really matter.”

“Did you tell Will why you were breaking up with him?”

“No. He’d never have gone along with it. He hates his dad. He wouldn’t want to do anything that Dan wants him to do.” I shivered. “And it was that too—you know, I thought he was attracted to me because his dad hated us being together, not because he really liked me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I’m not.” I blinked some tears away. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

“And you got yourself into a mess.” Ella sighed. “Maybe he’s not the one for you, even if he is a ten out of ten. I don’t think you could cope.”

“Thanks, Ella.”

“What? I’m just trying to make you feel better.”

“This is what they call tough love.”

“This is what they call reminding you you’re better than this. You don’t need to cry over Will. You’ll find someone else.”

I tried to smile. “Maybe.”

She went to the door but stopped before she went through it. “You know, I really like Port Sentinel, from what I’ve seen of it so far, but I’m not sure it’s the right place for you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You used to be happy.”

She closed the door softly behind her and I lay back against my pillow, staring at the ceiling. The tears I couldn’t seem to stop slid down the sides of my face and lost themselves in my hair. I really hoped there was a limit to how many tears one person could cry. And I really hoped that, one of these days, I’d reach it.

6

In the morning, Petra and I scored a lift to Exeter with Beth and her mother in their big, luxurious Audi. I left Ella working on holiday homework, or trying to while Hugo sat on the other side of the table, pretending to work too but actually making her laugh. It was very Ella to insist on getting her work done on day one of her holiday.

“I started it on the train. It won’t take long. If I don’t do it, I’ll just have it hanging over me until I go back and I won’t be able to enjoy anything.”

“If you’re sure,” I said, doubtful. “It doesn’t seem like a lot of fun. And you could go shopping in Exeter.”

“I can go shopping any time I like in London.”

Hugo yawned. “Anyway, shopping is boring.”

“Tired?” I asked.

“A little.”

“How was last night? Did you go to the pub?”

“Briefly.” Hugo yawned again. “It was amusing. But not amusing enough to stay for very long.”

“Did you go somewhere afterward?”

“Will met a few people he knew from his new school. We hung around with them for a while.”

Approximately one million questions popped into my mind, chief among them whether the people Will knew included any girls. I made myself smile at Hugo as if nothing he’d said bothered me at all. “Sounds fun.”

“I’m paying for it now. I’m tired today.”

“I’m glad I had an early night,” Ella said virtuously. “You should try it some time.”

“And you should try coming out instead of being a boring stay-at-home social outcast like Jess.”

I blinked. “Don’t hold back, will you?”

“I’m just saying, you tend to be a bit of a hermit.”

“Says the boy who hasn’t left his room willingly in the last three months, even for meals.”

“I just need a good enough reason. You missed out, both of you.”

“Well, I wasn’t invited,” I said. “So I couldn’t have gone even if I’d wanted to.”

Hugo stared at me for what felt like a long time, then nodded, as if he’d worked something out.

“What?” I asked, defensive.

“Nothing at all.” Hugo looked around, checking to see if Petra was within earshot. “Look, Jess, do you mind going to the hospital with Petra? I know Beth needs her support but it’s tough on her. It reminds her of Freya.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Petra had been twelve when her big sister died—old enough to know exactly what was going on. Old enough to understand that she wasn’t coming back, ever.

“They did the postmortem on Freya at the hospital in Exeter.” Typical Hugo to make a statement that was precisely factual but hit with the impact of a grenade. “I don’t know if Petra remembers that, or if it would mean much to her, but I don’t want her there on her own with the Dawsons. It could be upsetting.”

“Go,” Ella said to me. “I really will be fine here.”

I went.

I sat in the front of the car with Mrs. Dawson, who was dark-haired with high cheekbones and the same sweet smile as Beth. She was model-thin and wearing Port Sentinel casual chic—very expensive knee boots, skinny designer jeans, a swathe of caramel cashmere, and a lot of jewelry. She was a vague, distracted driver today and perhaps always—the passenger door had a really handsome dent in it and one of her sidelights had shattered. Fear kept me wide-eyed on the winding roads from Port Sentinel to Exeter. I was almost glad of it because otherwise I would have found it hard to stay awake. Mrs. Dawson seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of boring stories about people I didn’t know—friends of theirs who had houses in France and were being ripped off by local builders, or the people who’d invited them to St. Lucia, or the woman with a daughter the same age as Beth who was “a very gifted ice skater, Jess. I mean, really talented. She puts us to shame, doesn’t she, darling?”

The sun was streaming in, heating up the interior, which smelled chemically clean. The sharp, artificial odor made me feel dizzy and slightly high.

“Do you mind if I open the window?”

“What?” Mrs. Dawson glanced at me as if she’d forgotten I was there. “Oh. Yes, of course. It does stink in here. They always use that stuff when they valet the car even if I tell them not to.”

The smell was so strong she must have had the car valeted that morning, and I wondered briefly about her priorities. I’d have thought the stepson in intensive care was more important than getting the car polished, but what did I know?

In the back seat Beth talked to Petra, the two of them barely glancing at Mrs. Dawson when she broke into their conversation. The burden of keeping Mrs. Dawson happy fell on me, and I spent the forty-five-minute drive saying
yes
, and
no
, and
really
, and
how interesting
, and
watch out
, and not much else.

We were almost in Exeter when she asked, abruptly, “Do you know my stepson?”

“We’re in school together.”

She swerved round a slow-moving Ford Fiesta. “This situation is typical of him. Causing trouble is what he does best.”

It seemed a little harsh to blame him for what had happened, but I nodded.

“Jim’s had heart trouble. My husband, I mean. Seb’s father. He doesn’t need this kind of stress.” Her mouth was a line.

“He must be very worried about Seb.”

“More than Sebastian deserves, certainly.”

I didn’t know what to say. Mrs. Dawson looked in her rear-view mirror and her face softened. “All right, darling?”

“
Yes
, Mum. I’m fine.” Beth sounded irritated to be interrupted. At least she hadn’t heard her mother complaining about Seb, I thought. Happy families it wasn’t.

*   *   *

At the hospital, Beth led the way to intensive care through a labyrinth of corridors and waiting areas. I stayed close to Petra, who was very quiet indeed.

“Here we are.” Beth stopped, triumphant, in front of a locked door. “You need to press the bell to be admitted.”

“Wait for me, Beth.” Her mother had fallen behind. She was carrying an overnight bag for her husband and some magazines she’d bought in the hospital shop. “Girls, I don’t think you two will be allowed to go in. It’s family only.”

“That’s fine,” I said. Petra was so pale I was worried she was about to faint. “We wouldn’t want to get in the way. We can sit here.” There was a convenient row of seats by the door.

“Oh,” Beth said, disappointed. “Can’t they come too?”

“Really not.” Mrs. Dawson pressed the intercom button. “We’ll try not to stay too long.”

The door opened for them and the two of them disappeared. Petra came and perched beside me, looking very slightly better. “I didn’t want to have to see Seb.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not disappointed. I’m sure Beth won’t be, either.”

“This is so terrible. Poor Seb. His poor parents.”

“Mrs. Dawson doesn’t seem too bothered.”

“You heard what Beth said. She doesn’t get on with Seb. He blames her for splitting up his parents.”

“Is that so?”

Petra nodded. “She totally did. Even Beth admits it. But apparently Seb’s mother is a real high-maintenance type and Mr. Dawson is much happier with Beth’s mum.”

Who didn’t strike me as
low
maintenance, but everything was relative.

“What do you make of Seb?”

“Me?” Petra looked surprised, then thoughtful. “I don’t know. I fancied him for a while when I started going round to Beth’s house. He was always there and he’d say flirty things sometimes, just to make me blush. Then I got annoyed about it. He was too determined to get a reaction. It felt like he was being mean, even though he was really smiley and chatty. He’d come up behind me and lean over me and whisper things in my ear and it was annoying. Beth said he always ignored her if there was no one else there. If his parents’ friends were there he’d be all over her, showing off what a good big brother he is. I mean, I’d rather have a brother like Hugo. He never makes any effort but you know he cares about you, deep down.”