Forbidden Friends

by Anne-Marie Conway

  I reached out, desperately hoping that Bee was still queuing up at passport control or getting a trolley. My hand closed around the handle and in one swift movement I pulled it towards me, ripped off the label and set it down at my feet. Dad was standing right next to me, but he was too busy grabbing his case in one hand and Mum’s in the other to notice what I was up to. I hauled Bee’s case onto the trolley, my heart going a million miles a minute, and looked round for Mum.

  I felt as if every nerve in my body was screaming out. Where was she? How long could it take to freshen up? Any second now Bee would arrive at the carousel and realize I’d taken her case. A trickle of cold sweat ran down my back. I scanned the crowds for Mum, willing her to appear, cursing her for being so slow.

  By the time she finally came out of the loo I was in a total state. We made our way out of the airport and towards the car park. I’d done it. I had Bee’s suitcase, which meant, fingers crossed, she’d soon be on her way home with mine. The only thing I had to hope for now – was that she’d find my diary. And read it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  When we finally landed in England, Mum refused point-blank to get off the plane. She said she wasn’t feeling well and that she couldn’t face the crowds. I tried to help her out of her seat but she started to breathe very fast again, her eyes wide with fear. I didn’t know what to do; I was scared she was going to be sick or pass out.

  Nan called the stewardess over to explain and asked if we could wait until everyone had left the plane. The stewardess was really kind. She brought Mum a glass of water and joked that she’d never had a passenger who was too scared to get off the plane before. She crouched down in front of Mum and talked to her in a really calm voice until her breathing slowed down again.

  I had no idea if Lizzie was on the plane or not. We were right at the back, but it was impossible to see down the aisle because the stewardess was blocking my view. By the time Mum felt well enough to get off, and we’d made our way through passport control and down to the baggage reclaim area, there were only our three cases left, piled up at the side of the carousel. Nan went over to get them while I waited with Mum. If Lizzie and her parents had been on our flight, they were long gone.

  Mum and Nan sat in silence more or less the whole way back from the airport. Mum was calm again, but she looked so pale and worn out you’d never have believed she’d just spent two weeks in the sun. I just wished she could trust me enough to tell me what was really going on and why she was in such a terrible state.

  The closer we got to home, the more I started to think about Dad and whether he’d be there, waiting for us. I suddenly missed him so much it was like a pain deep inside my heart. I needed to see him so badly, to tell him how upset Mum was and to beg him to come home and make everything okay again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  I started to pick holes in my plan as soon as we left the airport. It was never going to work. Just because I’d taken Bee’s case, it didn’t necessarily mean that she’d take mine. She’d probably notice there was no label as soon as she pulled my suitcase off the carousel, and if she opened it right there and then to check, and saw it was mine, she’d just assume I’d taken hers by mistake. She’d have no way of knowing I’d done it on purpose.

  I half-thought about telling Mum and trying to get her to contact Bee for me, but I knew she’d be far too scared to go behind Dad’s back. She’d attempted to talk to him at the airport – something about moving forward, trying to find a way to forgive, but he’d told her to drop it. He said the holiday was over and he didn’t want to hear Bee or her family mentioned ever again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  We caught a bus from the tube station and then dragged our cases down the street. The house was waiting for us, dark and silent. I could tell before we even went in that Dad wasn’t there, but I still couldn’t stop myself from calling his name as we went through the front door. A wave of disappointment washed over me. Mum went straight upstairs to lie down, while Nan bustled around, turning on lights, and tidying up the pile of letters and flyers by the front door.

  “Who’s for a cuppa?” she trilled, doing her best to sound cheery. “Bee?”

  “No thanks, Nan, I’m going upstairs to unpack. I’ll have something later.”

  She stopped sorting through the mail for a moment and looked up. “Can we have a little chat before you go up, Bee? It won’t take two secs.”

  “You’re not cross with me, are you?” I asked, remembering how she’d snapped at me on the plane.

  “Don’t be silly, why on earth would I be cross with you? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  I waited until she’d made a pot of tea and we sat at the kitchen table.

  “It was a great holiday, wasn’t it?” she said, lifting her cup to take a sip. “You did enjoy yourself, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did, I had a brilliant time. But I can’t stop thinking about Mum and Dad and the letters and the woman in the market and whether Dad’s going to come home.”

  Nan sighed. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

  I leaned forward. “But I thought you didn’t know who she was.”

  “I do know her, Bee.” Nan looked a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I think I was in a state of shock. Suzie and your mum were friends a long time ago, when you were a baby.”

  “I know, Nan, she told me that on the plane. But I want to know why they fell out, why Mum ran away like that. And why did she start staying stuff about Lizzie when we were packing – about not seeing her again? What’s Lizzie got to do with any of this?”

  “Well, the thing is,” said Nan, “the woman in the market, Suzie...she’s Lizzie’s mum.”

  I stared at Nan as if she was speaking a foreign language. “What do you mean? My friend Lizzie? That was her mum?”

  “You see we didn’t put two and two together – not straight away,” said Nan. “We always knew Suzie’s daughter as Elizabeth, not Lizzie, so when you said you’d made friends with a girl called Lizzie, it didn’t occur to us that it might be the same girl. It sounds silly, I know, but we hadn’t seen them for ten years.”

  “But didn’t you recognize her? You saw us together nearly every day.”

  “The last time I saw her she wasn’t even three and she’s practically a teenager now! I did think there was something familiar about her, but you know what I’m like, my brain’s not as sharp as it once was! It was only when Mum bumped into Suzie in the market that it all began to slot into place.”

  My head felt as if it was going to burst. It was too much to take in. “So was it Suzie who sent the letters to Mum? Is that why Mum wanted to go to Spain?”

  Nan nodded.

  “So you mean I already knew Lizzie before I met her on the beach.” I scraped back my chair, pushing away from the table. “I’ve got to speak to Mum. Why did they fall out, Nan? What happened? And what was in the first letter? Why was Dad so angry? Why didn’t he want to come to Spain with us? None of it makes any sense.”

  “Just wait a second, Bee.” Nan got up and came round the table. “I don’t think your mum can handle talking about it right now. She’s really upset. More upset than you realize.”

  “But I need to know. It’s so obvious it’s all connected: Lizzie’s mum, and Dad going to stay at Uncle Ron’s and the letters.” I paused for a moment, thinking, desperately trying to tie all the threads together. “Did Dad have an affair with Suzie?” I said after a bit, praying I was wrong. “Were they together? Is that what the letters were about?”

  “What do you mean, an affair?” cried Nan. “It was nothing like that!”

  “Well, what was it then? You can’t keep it from me for ever. I’ve got a right to know.”

  Nan looked at me for a long time without saying anything.

  “Your mum will tell you, Bee, trust me. But you’ll have to wait until she’s ready. Don’t rush her, please. It won’t help.”

  I sh
ook my head, so frustrated I wanted to scream. “But when? When’s she going to tell me? And what about my dad? When do you think he’ll come home? I really need to talk to him.”

  Nan smiled, but she looked worried. “Soon, my love. Really soon.”

  It felt weird to be back in my room. We’d only been away for two weeks but it felt more like two years. Two weeks ago, I was poor old bullied Bee, but not any more. For the first time in my life, I had a proper best friend and everything was going to be different. Lizzie might not go to my school, but just knowing she was my friend made me feel stronger and more confident than before.

  I’d texted her on the way home from the airport but she hadn’t texted back yet. I tried ringing but there was a weird tone, as if the phone was broken or out of service. We were supposed to be making plans to meet up later in the week. I knew we’d only just said goodbye, but I needed to tell her about our mums and the fact that they used to be friends, and ask her if she knew what was going on. Maybe that was what she’d been trying to tell me before her dad dragged her into the lift at the hotel.

  I hauled my case onto my bed and unzipped it. I was planning to sort my stuff out and then pop round to Bailey’s to see how his camping trip had turned out. I’d texted him in the car on the way back from the airport to say we were home. I couldn’t wait to tell him about meeting Lizzie and the caves and the creepy message carved into the wall. It was just the sort of thing he’d love.

  I opened my case and glanced down. Something was wrong. For a second, I thought I was seeing things. I closed my eyes tight and then opened them again. My clothes weren’t in there, or my books or any of my stuff. There must have been a mistake; a mix-up at the airport. There were some denim shorts lying across the top and an old straw sun hat. And tucked into a pocket in the lining was a delicate, turquoise-blue necklace.

  I scooped it out and sat there, clutching the necklace close to my heart.

  It wasn’t my case at all.

  It was Lizzie’s.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  It was weird being home. It felt as if everything had changed. I really needed to talk to Bee, to tell her what Dad had said about her dad killing Luke – to find out if it was true, if she knew anything – but I literally had no way of contacting her. Dad was determined to keep us apart at all costs. He’d confiscated my phone and wouldn’t let me use his laptop. It was a nightmare. I didn’t know where she lived or how to let her know I was still her friend.

  I hauled her case upstairs, wondering when I should mention to Mum that I’d brought the wrong one home by mistake. I’d have to tell her sooner or later because she’d want to know where all my stuff was. I felt like giving up. My case was most likely dumped in lost property somewhere at the airport – and even if Bee had taken it home and read my diary, she’d still have no way of getting in touch with me.

  Her suitcase was much neater than mine, all her clothes neatly folded under a layer of books. I don’t know why I opened it really; it wasn’t as if I was looking for anything in particular. Most of the books were novels, but nestled amongst them was a blue exercise book, the kind you use when you go to a proper school.

  I stared at it, my heart starting to thump. It was Bee’s literacy book, her poetry project – her summer holiday homework. I remembered her saying in the cave that she had to pick a theme and write a series of poems and now her book was here, in my bedroom. I flicked through, wondering if she’d actually written any poems, as she’d never mentioned it again while we were away.

  I found them right at the back of the book. Three poems under the word FRIENDSHIP!

  THE FRIENDSHIP ROCK

  The friendship rock where I met Lizzie

  Her hair straight and my hair frizzy

  A special place to sit and share

  To laugh and cry and trust and care

  To form a bond so deep and true

  To know each other through and through

  The friendship rock where I met Lizzie

  Her hair straight and my hair frizzy.

  I read it again, smiling. It was such a lovely poem. I could almost see us sitting up on our rock in the sunshine. But the next poem was completely different.

  BEING ME

  Be different!

  Be quiet!

  Be scared!

  Be small!

  Be someone else, or not at all!

  That’s the way it used to be,

  That’s the way they made me feel.

  I was weak and they were strong,

  They were right and I was wrong.

  That’s the way it used to be,

  That’s the way they made me feel.

  That’s the way it was before,

  But not any more...

  Poor Bee. I knew she was unhappy at school and that she was being bullied, but I didn’t realize it was as bad as that. I was itching to find Melissa Knight and make her feel as small and insignificant as she’d made Bee feel. I wanted to shove the poem right in her face so she could see what she’d been doing.

  The third poem was called “Goodbye”.

  GOODBYE

  Pale face

  Scared eyes

  Deep fears

  Hope dies

  Tight hug

  Something’s wrong

  Last shrug

  Stay strong

  Hot tears

  Holiday’s end

  Take care

  Best friend.

  I glanced back up to the top of the page. There was a date: Friday 8th August. She’d written the poems yesterday. Last night, after we’d said goodbye. I ran my fingers over the words, shivering. Bee had been having such a hard time at school, and now she’d think I’d dropped her too. I felt really weird about what Bee’s dad was supposed to have done, but I didn’t want her to think I didn’t care enough to get in touch with her again.

  I paced around for a bit, desperately trying to make sense of it all. Dad had made it sound so straightforward. Bee’s dad had killed Luke, so Bee and I were never allowed to see each other again. End of. But something had been niggling away at the back of my mind. It was something Mum had said when she was trying to explain everything to me – about our two families being really close friends once and spending lots of time together.

  If that was true – if our family had been close friends with Bee’s family – then Bee and I must’ve known each other when we were little girls. Maybe we were friends. Maybe we were even best friends. It was difficult to believe, but in some ways it made perfect sense. The way we just clicked; the fact that we got on so well.

  I wracked my brains. If only I could remember. I wanted to know what we were like back then. What we got up to together, and what happened when it ended. How did Mum explain the fact that both Luke and Bee had disappeared out of my life? There was so much I didn’t understand. So much I needed to know. Was this why Mum and Dad had never told me much about the night Luke died? Because their close friends were involved? I just couldn’t believe it was true.

  Mum called me down for dinner just before seven. She’d made an omelette and chips, but I said I wasn’t hungry.

  “Come on, Lizzie, you’ve hardly eaten a thing all day. I know you’ve had a shock, but you can’t starve yourself.”

  “Where’s Dad? Isn’t he eating with us?”

  Mum’s eyes darted to the door. “He’s upstairs, catching up on his emails. He’s very upset about everything.”

  He’s not the only one, I felt like saying.

  I wasn’t ready to ask her about Bee yet, or about what had really happened when we were little girls. Maybe I was scared she’d say something that might change the way I felt about Bee and our friendship, convince me that what Dad said was true. “I’m sorry but I’ve brought the wrong suitcase home by mistake,” I said instead.

  Mum stopped dishing up. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it looks like my case, it’s exactly the same, but it’s got someone else’s stuff in it.”

 
“But there must be a label. A name or address.”

  I shook my head. There was no way I was going to tell her it was Bee’s. “I’ve looked through, but there’s nothing; just clothes and some books.”

  Mum sighed and then carried on serving up the dinner. “We’ll have to ring the airline; explain what’s happened and see if your case is still at the airport somewhere.”

  She plonked the plate down in front of me and started to rummage through her bag. “I’ve got the number in here somewhere, but it’ll be a miracle if someone actually picks up, especially this late. We’ll probably have to sort it out tomorrow.”

  I left her hanging on the phone and went back upstairs. I was intending to go straight to bed, but something led me to Luke’s room. It was weird, as if I suddenly had no control over my feet. I stood in the doorway, my palms slick with sweat. I wanted to find out more about my big brother and what happened to him, but I was scared. It felt wrong, somehow, as if I was meddling in something that was none of my business.

  I stood there for a bit, a sad feeling settling over me like a heavy coat, and then Mum called up the stairs. “Come and eat your dinner, Lizzie. Hurry up, please, it’s getting cold.”

  “Coming,” I said. But all I could think about was Luke, and Bee, and Bee’s dad and the accident, and all the unanswered questions about that night that were whirling around inside my head. Mum would just have to wait. I wiped my hands on my jeans, stepped into Luke’s room and closed the door behind me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I sat there, clutching the necklace, trying to understand. Mum, Nan and I had been the last passengers off the plane and through security. Our cases were the only three left by the time we got to the carousel. I’d noticed the label was missing on mine when we got out of the taxi but I’d just assumed it got torn off during the journey.