by Gina Blaxill
I’d realized that deep down I really did like him – and if I was honest, I probably had for a while. I’d just been too afraid that it would spoil everything. But Reece’s point about me needing to trust people had hit home. After spending most of the summer together, I missed him badly the first week of sixth form. I’d picked up my GCSE results a few days after Heathrow, and to my astonishment I’d done really well, exceeding most of my predicted grades. I’d even got an A* in geography, something I never would’ve thought possible. Reece’s results had been pretty good too. Zoe Edwards had done surprisingly badly; she’d been allowed into the sixth form, but she was noticeably subdued and more or less left me alone. Paloma’s party was old news now anyway.
It was Paloma who made me act on Reece. We were in Broom Hill’s library and I’d ended up filling her in on everything that had happened over the summer. Before I even got to the end, she shrilled, ‘Sophieeee! Are you going out with him yet or what? Because if you aren’t, you are totally missing a trick.’
This was absolutely typical. So much for kidnapping and murder and pharmaceutical espionage – all Paloma was interested in was my love life.
‘This is a silent library!’ barked the librarian, glowering at us from the check-in desk. Paloma ignored her.
‘Seriously, girl,’ she whispered, ‘how much more does someone have to do for you to agree to go on a date with them? Climb Mount Everest, rescue a baby from a burning house? Get outta the library right this instant and give him a call, else I swear I will do it myself.’
In the end I went round to Reece’s house that same evening. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but he brought it up first. We were in the garden, sitting on the grass and drinking some disgusting but strangely addictive blue drink Reece had found in Londis in Hendon. Effie was inside having coffee with Reece’s aunt. She’d relented on her house ban, but I could tell she still didn’t like me coming over. ‘You know those Oval tickets,’ Reece said. He had his shades on so I couldn’t see his eyes. ‘There are two of them.’
‘Congratulations,’ I said. ‘You can count. I knew there was a reason you got an A in maths.’
‘One’s obviously for me. I was thinking, you might like to come too?’
‘Is this a date?’ I asked.
‘I was getting to that,’ Reece said. ‘You ruined my moment.’ I waited for him to continue. ‘So . . . how about it? I know you said it wouldn’t work, but I figure impossible, magical things can happen when you’re trapped in a dark pantry together.’
He said it so lightly that if I didn’t know him better I might have been fooled into thinking it didn’t matter.
‘The pantry magic’s worked,’ I said, blushing a little. Reece flipped his sunglasses on to his head, blinking.
‘What?’
I fiddled with a strand of hair. ‘I couldn’t have done this without you. You’re a bit of a hero. Just took me a while to realize. It’s like you said – some things are worth sticking with.’
Reece looked smug. ‘I was a brilliant shrink, wasn’t I? Maybe a new career beckons.’
‘Thought you wanted to go into the pharmaceutical business,’ I said, giving him a push.
It was a lot easier than I thought, getting used to Reece as a boyfriend. The first time we kissed, in his room later that evening, felt a little weird. We’d been talking about something to do with school and then, breaking off mid-sentence, Reece suddenly leaned in, pushing my hair away from my face. Our lips met for a few seconds before he pulled back, and I could tell he felt as self-conscious as I did, because he said, ‘I sort of planned that as being better.’
‘How much better?’ I asked, and that made us laugh and after that it was more relaxed, and the kissing did improve – and I mean a lot. By the time the match came round, it felt absolutely normal and right. And I’d even bought a dress similar to the one he’d pointed out in that shop window on the way to McIntyre’s barbecue. Not that I was going to change what I wore completely, but it was nice to have something new that made me actually feel pretty. And he’d been right: it suited me.
‘Didn’t get to do half the things I wanted to this summer.’ Reece’s eyes were on the kitchen. Two pizzas that looked like they might be ours were coming. ‘I was too busy chasing gangsters. I blame you.’
‘They weren’t gangsters. How many times do me and your mum have to tell you?’
‘If I say it enough you’ll believe it.’
The pizzas arrived. I picked up a slice, then paused. ‘You know what freaks me out? If I hadn’t happened to find that memory stick that day, things would be a lot different right now. We wouldn’t be sitting here together, for one thing.’
‘It hurts my head if I think about it too much,’ Reece said, picking up the biggest slice. ‘Eat. That’s easier.’
It definitely was. I smiled at him, thinking that it made a change to feel happy, and Reece smiled back. As I took a mouthful, it struck me that it didn’t feel like the past was looking over my shoulder any more, bleeding into the present. The past was exactly that – the past. And now I could get on with the future without being afraid.
But I still had one more door I needed to close.
The police were continuing to tie up loose ends. There would be a huge court case somewhere down the line. I was dreading having to testify, especially giving my eyewitness account of Cherie’s accident. At least the police had found Patrick – they’d actually picked him up the same day they’d found us, trying to get a flight out of Heathrow. They’d also identified a number of others who’d been involved in the South American drug cartel. Kyle had vanished, but I was happy with that. If it wasn’t for him, I might not be here now.
I wasn’t sure what would happen to Aiden. He’d probably get a more lenient sentence because of how he’d helped the investigation. I still couldn’t believe he’d told the police everything of his own accord – but I guessed any amount of money became irrelevant when you were scared for your life. When push came to shove, it seemed his heart hadn’t been one hundred per cent in it after all.
As for Cherie, she’d admitted to going to the flat and seeing Danielle. It had gone more or less as I’d thought. They’d had a row. Cherie had picked up a knife, intending to threaten Dani to keep quiet about the trial results, and Dani had backed away and fallen off the balcony. Cherie was pleading manslaughter. Whether she was telling the full truth or not, I would never know.
By the time I felt emotionally strong enough to go to the cemetery a month had passed. Reece offered to come with me, but I don’t think he was at all surprised by my reply that I had to do this alone.
The afternoon was bright and warm and still, the sky an expanse of blue. I walked along the main path slowly, carrying a big bouquet of yellow roses. They had been Dani’s favourites.
I found her headstone and stood looking at it. Then I reached down and placed the flowers in front of it.
‘I always knew you didn’t kill yourself,’ I said to her. ‘And if the trial goes right, which I really hope it does, everyone else will too. You probably believed you were doing the right thing, making the drug more widely available – and when you realized it was wrong, you tried to stop it.’
It was odd – I’d expected this to make me feel good, triumphant even. But all I felt was relief that it was all over.
I spent a good hour by the grave, remembering Dani. I wondered how many people had really known her; too few, I suspected. Her ‘friends’ at Vaughan-Bayard had got her killed, and the only man she’d ever loved had been manipulating her. It seemed a sad existence for someone I knew to be warm and generous and clever, and who had deserved so much more.
But thanks to the events of this summer and all the good times we’d shared before that, at least I would remember her – and make sure I never forgot.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Once again there are a number of people who’ve helped make Forget Me Never happen who deserve big thank-yous. Top of the list are my parents
, Sheila and David, who were part of many epic Help, I’m blocked on book 2 sessions where we batted around ideas and solved problems. Once again, my agent Becky Bagnell and my editor Emma Young, for all their contributions and professional advice. It goes without saying that thanks are also due to all the lovely people at Macmillan whove helped form the book.
There’s also Matt Davison, who knows more about pharmaceutical drug espionage than he perhaps ought to, and Jenny Dixon, who was my partner in crime for the grand research mission to Heathrow. Thank you as well to my brother Luke for writing hilarious notes all over my manuscript (he also said he didn’t want a dedication, but is getting it anyway). Given the amount of time me and my netbook have spent there, I definitely need to give a big thumbs up to the staff at my local Caffè Nero and their excellent soy milk latte-making skills.
And last but not least, thanks to everyone – friends, family, colleagues and readers – who has been so very nice about Pretty Twisted. Your enthusiasm and support have been a big encouragement to me.
GINA BLAXILL lives in London. She has an English degree from Cambridge University and now works in schools liaison, helping teenagers puzzle out the mysteries of higher education. Between the ages of eleven and fifteen she wrote an epic thirty-six-part story featuring over 1,000 characters – she still remembers most of their names!
Forget Me Never is Gina’s second novel for young adults.
Also by Gina Blaxill
Pretty Twisted
First published 2012 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2012 Macmillan Children’s Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-4472-3439-5 EPUB
The right of Gina Blaxill to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.
Table of Contents
Title page
Dedication page
Contents
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
REECE
SOPHIE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Author biography
Copyright page
