Goodbye, Perfect
Page 21
‘Connor got me up,’ I say. ‘He was wondering where you were.’
Valerie holds up the paper bag. ‘Sustenance! Breakfast sustenance, which is the best kind.’
She looks way too fresh for someone who had about a bottle and a half of wine the night before. ‘Aren’t you hungover?’ I ask.
Valerie smirks a very un-Valerie smirk at me. ‘It’s not my first time.’ She sets the cups on the kitchen counter. ‘I always wake up early when I’ve been drinking. I’ve been up since six. OK, who wants what? I have two croissants, two chocolate twists and an apricot Danish.’
We divide up the pastries between us, leaving the entire Danish for Valerie because she looks heartbroken when Connor attempts to cut it in half. I try to eat some of the croissant, but the nervous churn in my stomach is making everything taste like dust.
‘So, what’s the plan?’ Valerie asks me, smiling. ‘Do you want to just head out into York and explore? There’s loads to see in the city, or we could go to the uni and I could show you around.’
I try and swallow a chunk of buttery pastry. I have absolutely no clue what to say.
‘And if we do that stuff today, tomorrow we could go for a drive and go to Whitby, or something. I love Whitby. We could have a day by the sea.’
Honestly, a part of me is tempted to just forget about Glasgow and Bonnie and the whole stupid idea and just hang out in York for the next two days. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
‘Or did you have something else in mind?’ Valerie prompts. Both she and Connor are staring at me from the other side of the breakfast bar, waiting.
I cannot bail out on this now. I’m not a wuss.
‘I did have an idea,’ I say eventually. Or try to say. It comes out as more of a squeaky, questioning choke. I cough. ‘But it’s a bit . . . um.’ I swallow. Come on, words. ‘Not Yorky.’ Oh, great. Well done, Eden.
‘Not . . . Yorky,’ Valerie repeats slowly. She glances at Connor, who immediately goes bright red. She looks back at me, eyebrows lifting. ‘Oh . . . kay. What is it?’
‘Could we go to Scotland?’
Valerie lets out a surprised, breathy half-laugh. ‘Scotland?!’
‘Yeah.’ There’s no other way to play this than just to go all-in.
‘You mean, like, Edinburgh?’
‘No, I’ve been there, done that. Climbed the hill, saw the castle, Royal Mile.’ I’m blabbing. Shit. Get a hold of yourself, Eden. ‘I was thinking Glasgow.’
Valerie’s eyes go even wider. ‘Glasgow?!’ She sputters a laugh. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve never been, and we’re way closer than I usually am. I know it’s a bit random, but I really want to see it.’
‘You really want to see it,’ Valerie repeats, deadpan. ‘You just thought this morning, Oh hey, why not go and see Glasgow? That city you’ve always dreamed of seeing.’
The weird thing is that she doesn’t even seem that surprised. Bemused, maybe. But not surprised.
‘I like big cities,’ I say. This is a complete lie, but I’m counting on the fact that Valerie doesn’t know me well enough to know that.
‘Do you?’ she asks, forehead crinkling. ‘How about you, Connor? You like big cities?’
Connor coughs.
‘They have botanic gardens,’ I say, which I know is true because I saw it on the Glasgow Wikipedia page yesterday in the car.
‘So does York,’ she says. Shit. This really isn’t going well. ‘Eeds. Let me just get a hold on this. Are you telling me you came to York because you want to see a city in Scotland?’
I scan my possible answers to this for anything that might give me away. ‘Yes.’
‘And this has nothing to do with Bonnie.’
‘No.’
Valerie looks at me. ‘Eden.’
‘It doesn’t.’
‘Eden.’ When I don’t say anything, she lets out a groan of frustration. ‘Stop treating me like I’m stupid, Eden. I know this is about Bonnie. Can’t you just drop this ridiculous charade and be honest?’
My hands are starting to feel clammy. What is the right answer to this? Is she talking like she would take me to Glasgow if it was to do with Bonnie, or that she wouldn’t?
‘Do you know where she is?’ Valerie asks. Her voice is hard, her eyes fixed on me.
‘No,’ I say, automatically. Connor is making eyes at me, like, Try a new line, Eden. ‘Well, I . . .’
There’s a long silence. Valerie is nodding a little at me, coaxing out the truth. No. I can’t tell her that I know exactly where Bonnie is; she’ll just send the police to Glasgow and me home. And I have to get to Glasgow. It has to be me.
‘I don’t know,’ I say finally. ‘But I think they could be there.’
‘You think,’ Valerie repeats.
I nod.
‘They could be there.’
Another nod.
‘And why do you think that?’
‘Because Bonnie used to talk about Glasgow. I just have this . . . feeling.’
‘Why didn’t you share this “feeling” with the police?’ She makes air quotes and everything.
‘It would sound stupid. It’s not much to go on.’
‘But it’s enough to try and trick me into driving you there?’ she asks flatly.
A guilty flush rises in my cheeks. God, when she puts it like that, I sound horrible as well as stupid. ‘I just . . .’ I don’t know how to finish.
‘You just what, Eden?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
This surprises her, I can tell. She lifts a hand and tugs her fingers through her hair, frowning.
‘I just need to do this,’ I say. ‘For Bonnie.’
‘Eden . . .’ she says softly, then shakes her head. ‘Glasgow is a long way to go for a hunch.’
‘I know, but . . .’
But what?
‘If it’s more than a hunch, you should just tell me,’ she says. ‘Right now. Just tell me.’
I try very hard not to look at Connor.
‘I won’t be mad,’ she says. ‘I promise. But I know there’s more going on here. Just tell me.’
‘There isn’t.’ Lying to Valerie’s face like this doesn’t make me feel good. It makes me feel small, and cold, and rotten. ‘I just thought . . . as we’re here . . . and it’s not that far away . . . The police aren’t finding her. And this is my chance to have a go.’
Valerie lets out a long sigh, bites her lip, then rolls her eyes to the ceiling. I glance at Connor and he makes a clueless face at me.
‘OK,’ she says.
I blink. Connor’s mouth drops open. ‘OK?’ I echo uncertainly.
‘OK,’ Valerie says again. ‘Fine. If that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do. But just today. We’re coming back tonight. I don’t want you thinking we can get there and then you can be, like, “Oh! Let’s go to Loch Ness, it’s only another three hours away!” or something. OK?’
‘OK!’ I say, disbelievingly thrilled. ‘Oh my God, Valerie. Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Go get your stuff. If we’re going to go, we should go now.’ She takes a big bite of Danish just as I lunge around the breakfast bar to hug her. ‘Oof.’
‘Valerie, you’re the best,’ I blurt, actually meaning it. I feel dizzy with excited relief. ‘The actual, actual best.’
Connor is just standing there, his forehead crinkled slightly, his expression unreadable. His eyes flit from Valerie to me like he’s trying to understand something, and I widen my eyes to say, Don’t say anything. Don’t risk this.
Valerie pats my shoulder, then disentangles herself. ‘I’m going to run out and get some more coffee,’ she says. ‘When I get back, be ready to go, OK?’
Connor waits until she leaves before he says it. ‘Well, this is weird.’
‘Just go with it,’ I say, shoving the remains of my croissant into my mouth. It suddenly tastes amazing. ‘I’m just glad she said yes.’
‘Don’t you think that was a bit too easy, though?’
‘Better too easy than a no,’ I point out. I think this is a pretty clever response, but he still looks troubled.
He leans over and picks up the coffee cup she’d brought in with her. ‘There’s still coffee in this,’ he says.
‘That’ll be cold by the time we leave,’ I say. ‘She’s getting some for the journey, which is why we need to be ready when she gets back. Quick, go and get your stuff together.’
He doesn’t move. ‘Do you think she’s calling Carolyn?’
I almost pause. ‘No, she’d just tell me, wouldn’t she? Stop being so paranoid.’
Connor glances down at the cup again and then back at me. ‘You’re going to have to tell her the truth at some point. You know that, right?’
I’m already halfway across the living room, gathering up my things. ‘It’ll be fine,’ I say, even though I know it won’t be. ‘I just have to wait for the right moment.’
The thing is, I don’t really know what the right moment is going to look like. At first it seems a good idea to wait until we’re out of York, and then until we’re out of England altogether. But when we cross the border into Scotland, it still doesn’t feel right. And then I realize, it doesn’t make much sense to confess until we’re actually in Glasgow. And anyway, there are so many other things for us to talk about. Why spoil it with an inevitable fight?
When we first drove out of York, Valerie overruled Connor and me, and put on one of her playlists, and that turned into the soundtrack for the four-hour trip, underpinning our conversations as we zipped from one to another. Everything felt as free as the countryside surrounding us: unfamiliar but open; new but somehow ours.
The Song: David Bowie, ‘Starman’
The Conversation: GCSEs (Part 1 of 6)
Valerie:
When’s your next exam?
Me:
Oh my God, can we not?
Connor:
Tuesday. Maths.
Valerie:
Yikes.
Me:
Who says ‘yikes’?
Valerie:
I do. How are you feeling about it?
Me:
[Mimes choking to death.]
Connor:
How does anyone feel about a Maths exam?
Valerie:
I quite liked Maths exams.
Me:
Oh my God.
Valerie:
I mean, relatively speaking. I liked that there were actual answers. It’s not like an English exam, where it’s all subjective. There’s a right and a wrong.
Connor:
That’s true.
Me:
It’s not so great if you only have the wrong answers.
Valerie:
You’re so defeatist.
Me:
I prefer ‘realist’.
Connor:
I like this song.
The Song: George Michael, ‘Faith’
The Conversation: Daisy
Valerie:
Do you ever worry about Daisy?
Me:
All the time.
Valerie:
I mean at school, specifically.
Me:
So do I! She’s a menace.
Valerie:
Mum said she’s been in and out of detention all year.
Me:
Pretty much.
Valerie:
That’s not great, is it? She’s only in Year Seven.
Me:
No, but the other side of it is she finds schoolwork really hard and they don’t deal with that well enough.
Valerie:
Really?
Me:
Yeah. She acts up to save face.
Valerie:
Is that what you did?
Me:
Sure. Who wants to look stupid in front of everyone? At least when you’re acting up you’ve got some kind of control.
Connor:
Daisy’s got more of a mouth on her than you ever did.
Me:
Hey, watch it.
Valerie:
Only McKinleys are allowed to say anything bad about Daisy.
Me:
Yeah!
Connor:
Did you two just . . . fist-bump?
Valerie:
I bloody love this song. Turn it up.
The Song: Viola Beach, ‘Boys That Sing’
The Conversation: The ABC Game
Valerie:
Let’s play the ABC game.
Connor:
What’s that?
Valerie:
You have to name something in a certain category beginning with A, then B, then C, etc. It’s a McKinley staple for car journeys. What topic shall we go with? TV shows?
Me:
Flowers!
Valerie:
Eeh. OK. But only if we can do trees too. I’ll start. Ash.
Me:
Begonia.
Connor:
Uh . . . chrysanthemumums?
Me:
That’s not how you say it.
Valerie:
It still counts. Daffodils.
Me:
Eremurus.
Connor:
Show-off.
Me:
That doesn’t begin with F.
Connor:
I know a phrase that does.
Valerie:
Children, children.
Me:
You have ten seconds.
Connor:
Fruit.
Me:
Fail.
Connor:
Whatever. I don’t like this game. Turn the music up.
The Song: Leonard Cohen, ‘Everybody Knows’
The Conversation: Badger
Me:
So. Badger.
Valerie:
Oh God.
Connor:
Huh?
Me:
Badger?
Valerie:
His real name is David.
Connor:
Who?
Me:
I can’t believe you . . . with someone called . . .
Valerie:
It wasn’t planned.
Me:
And you never talked about it?
Valerie:
Never.
Me:
Wow.
Valerie:
I definitely shouldn’t have told you.
Me:
I’m glad you did, though.
Valerie:
Yeah?
Me:
Yeah.
The Song: Prince, ‘Kiss’
The Conversation: GCSEs (Part 4 of 6)
Valerie:
God, we should all be revising right now.
Me:
Should we, though?
Valerie:
Yes! Especially you! I’m so irresponsible.
Me:
Bad Valerie.
Valerie:
It’s very rude to mock your chauffeur. Shall we turn around and go back to York?
Me:
No! Why don’t you quiz me on something? Quiz me on French. Your favourite thing.
Valerie:
Still with the mocking. But OK. Translate this: ‘I am in a car with my sister and my boyfriend.’
Me:
Uh. Je suis . . .
Valerie:
Good start.
Me:
Une voiture . . .
Valerie:
You are a car?
Me:
Avec . . . ma soeur . . . et mon petit ami.
Valerie:
Close enough.
The Song: David Bowie, ‘Heroes’
The Conversation: Fostering
Me:
How old were you when Carolyn and Bob started fostering?
Valerie:
Six.
Me:
Wow. That’s young.
Valerie:
It’s older than you were when you were being fostered.
<
br /> Me:
True. Was it weird? Having random kids in your house all the time?
Valerie:
No. And they never felt like ‘random kids’. Remember how I said that Mum used to call them our guests? It was more like that. How was it for you? Going into random houses all the time?
Me:
Shitty.
Valerie:
Oh. [Long pause.] You didn’t . . . feel like a guest?
Me:
I didn’t mean shitty in your house—
Valerie:
Our house.
Me:
You know what I mean. [Pause.] But thanks. I just mean it could only ever hit a certain level of good, you know? However nice the foster carers were, it was still a shitty situation.
Valerie:
Is it different when you’re adopted?
Me:
Yeah. Just having things be permanent instead of temporary all the time, you know?
Valerie:
Yeah.
Me:
Wasn’t it weird for you having two new family members without having any say at all? Like a family invasion?
Valerie:
I did have a say.
Me:
You did?