‘This is all my fault. This is all my fault,’ I repeat, as I scroll through the listings, hoping intuition will kick in and I’ll somehow just magically know where she is.
‘No it isn’t,’ Ram says, his voice firm. ‘Yes, this is a crazy situation, but it was Frankie’s choice to storm off.’
‘It doesn’t matter. She would never have run off if it wasn’t for me. I’m supposed to be her best friend …’
‘That’s it,’ Ram says, cutting me off.
‘What?’
‘Find Your Friends.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The app. That’s how Frankie knew where to find you. Do you still have it installed on your phone?’
‘I don’t know. I think so.’ I retrieve my phone from where I shoved it to the very bottom of my bag and turn it on.
‘I thought you said you were out of battery,’ Ram says.
I ignore him, my hand trembling as the screen glows into life. Within seconds, notification after notification fills up the screen – missed calls and voicemails and messages. I minimize them all, scrolling through my apps until I find the Find Your Friends icon. I log in.
Within seconds, we have a location.
We’re nearly at the club, Aphrodite’s, when it begins to rain. It’s just a few spots at first, but within less than a minute it’s a deluge and we’re forced to shelter in a shop doorway.
‘We’re wasting time,’ I say, my body jangling with nerves as the rain falls down in sheets in front of us. ‘The club’s going to be closing soon.’
‘But we’ll get drenched,’ Ram points out. ‘I don’t mind, but what about Albie?’
A crash of lightning makes Ram and I jump. Miraculously Albie, fast asleep against my chest, doesn’t even stir.
‘But what if she leaves before we get there?’ I ask, my words almost drowned out by a menacing roll of thunder. ‘She’s all by herself, drunk and upset in a town she doesn’t know …’
‘Hang on,’ Ram says.
He pulls off his T-shirt and slips it over my head so it covers Albie. The T-shirt smells of New Year’s Eve. I shove the thought away. This is not the time for nostalgia. ‘How’s that?’ he asks, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. ‘It won’t protect him completely but it might stop him from getting completely soaked.’
‘It’s perfect,’ I say, trying not to look at Ram’s bare torso, trying not to remember what it felt like against mine, skin on skin.
For a moment we stay like that, his hands on my shoulders, our eyes locked together.
‘We should go,’ I say.
Ram nods and removes his hands. ‘Ready to make a run for it?’ he asks.
‘Ready.’
‘No chance, last entry was at half one,’ the bouncer tells us when we turn up at the entrance to the club a few minutes later, out of breath from our mad dash through the rain.
‘But we have to come in,’ I say, panting. ‘My best friend is in there.’
The bouncer rolls his eyes. ‘As sob stories go, I’ve heard better.’
‘But we’re really worried about her. Please, we won’t be long.’
‘Sorry, love. Even if it wasn’t way past last admission, I couldn’t let you in anyway.’
‘Why not?’
‘Mr Universe here,’ he says, nodding at Ram’s naked torso. ‘Call us old-fashioned, but we prefer our punters fully dressed.’
‘Hang on,’ I say, pulling off the damp T-shirt and handing it back to Ram.
He tugs it on.
‘Wait a second,’ the bouncer says, squinting down at my chest. ‘Is that a bleedin’ baby?’
‘Oh,’ I say, taking a tiny step backwards and wrapping my arms protectively around the still-sleeping Albie. ‘Yes.’
He throws back his head and laughs. ‘I’ve seen it all now!’ he says. ‘You’ll be wanting a family discount next.’
‘Please,’ Ram says. ‘We just need to get to our friend. We called her phone and a stranger answered and we’re worried she might be in some kind of trouble.’
The bouncer pauses. ‘Hang on a second,’ he says. ‘This friend of yours, she got an accent like yours?’
‘Yes,’ Ram and I say in unison.
‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Do you remember her coming in?’
‘Maybe. It’s just that a bit ago, some girl was trying to get back in the club, banging on about needing to get her phone or something.’
‘A bit ago? Can you be more specific?’
‘God, I dunno,’ he says, pushing his hands through his thinning hair. ‘Ten minutes ago, fifteen.’
‘And what did she look like?’ I demand. ‘The girl?’
‘How am I supposed to remember? Do you know how many people come through these doors? They all look the bloody same after a while.’
‘Tall? Short? Dark? Fair?’ Ram asks.
‘Tall, I think. And dark …’ The bouncer furrows his brow. ‘Yeah. Dark. Bit exotic-looking maybe?’
‘Italian?’ I suggest.
‘Yeah, now that I come to think of it, she might have had a touch of the Med about her.’
‘OK, I’m pretty sure that’s her,’ I say.
‘Oh. Well, in that case, you’re not going to find her here.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I sent her on her way.’
‘What? Why?’
He taps the framed sign on the wall. ‘No readmission after one thirty a.m.,’ he says, rolling his eyes. ‘It’s not bleedin’ rocket science.’
‘But she’s all by herself in a town she doesn’t know,’ I say.
The bouncer sighs a long weary sigh. ‘Look, I know it sounds harsh, but that’s not my problem. Once you’re on the other side of this line’ – he pauses to motion behind him – ‘then you’re my problem, but until then …’
I turn to Ram. ‘Where do you think she’s gone?’
‘Back to the hotel?’
‘I hope so. She’s terrified of thunderstorms.’
Ram peers out into the street. The rain shows no absolutely no signs of stopping anytime soon. ‘OK, how’s this for a plan?’ he asks. ‘You wait here where it’s dry. I’ll go back to the hotel, pick up the car, and hopefully Frankie, then come back and get you and Albie. I should be fifteen minutes tops.’
A woman comes up the stairs. Like the bouncer, she’s dressed all in black, a walkie-talkie clipped to her belt. She zones in on Albie immediately, her stern face melting into a wide smile. ‘And who’s this little stunner?’ she asks.
‘Er, Albie,’ I say.
‘’Ello, Albie,’ the woman says, stooping down so her face is level with his. ‘I’m your auntie Kaz. Now, aren’t you a cutie?’ She straightens up and turns to the bouncer. ‘What’s going on?’ she asks.
‘Ask them two.’
‘Our friend left here about ten minutes ago,’ Ram explains. ‘She’s all by herself and we’re worried about her. Would it be OK if my friend waited here while I go get her?’
‘You must be joking,’ the bouncer says. ‘This is a nightclub, not a bleedin’ crèche.’
‘Oh, Alex,’ Kaz says. ‘You really are a miserable git sometimes.’ She turns to me. ‘Come with me, sweetheart. Auntie Kaz will sort you out.’
The cloakroom is down the stairs, just before the double doors leading into the club. On the other side I can hear the thump of music. The cloakroom attendant, a girl of around nineteen or twenty dressed in a toga, her hair a mass of thick black braids, is sitting in the kiosk window, hunched over a textbook. The rails behind her are largely empty.
‘All right, Aisha,’ Kaz says.
Aisha looks up, her forehead wrinkling with confusion at the sight of me and Albie at Kaz’s side.
‘This is …’ Kaz pauses. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I never asked your name.’
‘It’s Jojo,’ I say.
‘Aisha, this is Jojo. Jojo and Albie. They need somewhere to hang out until this storm dies down. They OK to sit with you for a bit?’
‘I guess so,’ Aisha says, pulling a face. ‘Hang on a sec, I’ll just grab the door.’ She abandons her textbook and disappears from view, reappearing a few seconds later in the door to the left of the kiosk window.
‘Thanks, Aish,’ Kaz says. ‘You’re a star. I’ll be back in a bit.’ She jogs back up the stairs, leaving Aisha and me facing one another.
‘He yours?’ she asks, nodding at Albie.
‘Er, yeah.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘Sixteen?’
I nod.
‘Mental.’
I don’t really know what to say to that.
‘You’d better come in,’ Aisha says, standing aside, a wry expression on her face.
I smile tightly and squeeze past her into the cloakroom.
Chapter 35
Frankie
OK, I’m officially lost now. Not to mention soaked. It felt good at first. Refreshing. But now it just feels itchy and uncomfortable. I’ve always had a crap sense of direction but it’s never failed me this badly before. Another flash of lightning slices across the sky, making me jump. I hate thunderstorms. I have ever since I was little and Luca told me that our dog Lola didn’t die from a stroke like Mum and Dad said but had been struck by lightning. I had nightmares featuring an electrified Lola for months afterwards, no matter how many times Mum and Dad tried to reassure me that Luca had made the whole thing up.
I haven’t seen another person for a while now, Every so often a car sails past but I’ve listened to far too many episodes of My Favorite Murder to even think about flagging one down. I make the executive decision to turn round and retrace my steps back towards the town centre. At least there’ll be people around. And I know the name of the hotel. There must be someone who can direct me back there.
I don’t see the step. Obviously. If I had, I wouldn’t be sprawled chest down on the pavement right now. For a moment I just lie there, too shocked to do anything. I let out a moan and pull myself up onto all fours before staggering to my feet. Both knees are bleeding and my hands are grazed from where I put them out to break my fall. My chin hurts too. I touch it. It’s wet. Is it bleeding? In the rain and the dark, it’s hard to be sure.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ I scream.
My words are swallowed up by the storm, which only increases my irritation.
I try again. Louder this time. And with my eyes shut and my arms outstretched to the sky. I must look like a mad woman but I don’t care. It just feels good to let out everything out.
‘Frankie!’ My eyes spring open. ‘Frankie!’
There it is again. My name. I squint through the driving rain.
I see his T-shirt first. Bright white. Then his distinctive walk. Confident (but never cocky), grown-up, the oldest teenager in town.
Ram.
My heart in my mouth, I limp towards him.
We stop a couple of metres apart from one another. For a few seconds we just stand there, separated by a thick sheet of rain.
‘I’m sorry,’ he shouts.
‘What for?’ I shout back. I want him to spell it out.
‘For everything.’
I shake my head. ‘Not good enough.’ Nowhere near.
‘For what happened with Jojo,’ he says. ‘And for not telling you about it. I didn’t want to hurt you.’
Then why does it feel like it’s ripping me apart right now?
‘Do you love her?’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. Jojo. Do you love her?’
‘No. I – I don’t know.’
So, yes then.
Fuck. I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.
‘Listen,’ he says. ‘I need you to know I didn’t develop feelings for her until after we’d broken up. I swear to you, Frankie. It was New Year’s Eve. We hung out and I dunno, something just switched—’
‘It just switched?’
‘Yeah. We were just talking and, I don’t know, one second she was just Jojo and the next—’
You were falling for her.
Oh God, oh God.
‘It was just that one time, that one night. This is the first time I’ve seen her since I—’
‘Since you impregnated her?’
Ram visibly winces.
Good.
‘Please don’t do that,’ he says.
‘Do what?’
‘Make it sound like that.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like it was something sordid.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I snap. ‘Rose petals and candles, was it? Actually, don’t answer that.’
‘I’m sorry, Frankie.’
‘Yeah, you said that already.’ I can’t have this conversation any more. It hurts too much.
‘Come on,’ Ram says. ‘I’ll walk you back to the club.’
‘The club? What club?’
‘Aphrodite’s. Jojo’s waiting there. I’ll go get the car, then come pick you up.’
‘No way.’
‘Frankie.’
‘I said no!’ I yell.
‘Please, Frankie. Jojo’s worried about you.’ He reaches for my arm.
‘Well, tell her I’m fine,’ I snarl, shaking him off.
‘Only you’re not, are you?’ He gestures at my bleeding knees.
‘What do you care?’
‘I care a lot, Frankie. I know we’re not together any more, but I still fucking care about what happens to you.’
‘You had sex with my best friend,’ I spit. ‘And now she’s had your baby and I just don’t know if I can live with that, OK?’
‘I know. And I’m sorry. But it happened and I can’t change it. Any of it. It’s all very new. To all of us. We need time to process things and—’
‘Stop it!’ I cry.
‘What? Stop what?’
‘Being so grown-up and reasonable.’
‘How else do you want me to be?’
‘Like a fucking human being!’
‘I don’t know what you mean, Frankie.’
‘Yes, you do! It’s the entire reason we didn’t work out. Do you know how hard it is? To constantly feel like the crazy one in almost every situation? Just because I have emotional reactions to things, just because I let myself actually feel stuff.’ I smack my palm against my chest.
‘I don’t think you’re crazy, Frankie.’
‘Oh yeah? What about earlier then? At the rink? You pretty much laughed in my face.’
‘That was different.’
‘No, it wasn’t. You were all “Frankie the drama queen, at it again”.’
‘But what you were saying, it sounded so … mad.’
‘Madder than what we actually found?’
Ram opens his mouth then closes it again.
‘Exactly!’ I cry. ‘You just don’t get it, Ram. You make out I’m crazy, but has it ever dawned on you that I might be the normal one? Huh? You’re so obsessed with being the good guy and fulfilling your dad’s legacy or whatever, you’re incapable of just letting go and having a genuine emotional reaction to anything. Everything’s so measured and contained and fucking sensible.’
He lets out a laugh. ‘Measured? Sensible? Do you seriously think I feel any of those things right now? Frankie, I just found out I have a three-week-old son. I’m fucking freaking out.’
‘Then show it!’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know! It’s not up to me, is it? Scream! Shout! Do something! Just stop putting on this act all the time. Stop thinking you have to be so bloody perfect. You don’t have to do that. Not in front of me, Jesus.’
There’s a beat when Ram doesn’t do anything.
‘Go on then,’ I yell, using both hands to push against his chest. ‘Do it! I dare you!’
He flinches, and for a second I think he might actually allow himself to lose control for once.
‘Do it!’ I repeat. ‘Do it!’
Another pause. I hold my breath. Ram opens his mouth.
I almost burst out laughing.
‘Oh my God, you can’t, can you?’ I say. ‘You literally don’t know how to let go. Even now, even after everything that’s happened tonight.’
He sighs. It reminds me of the way teachers sigh at school when we’re being too noisy or too slow to settle down – impatient and somehow above it all.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say, Frankie.’
But that’s the whole point. I shouldn’t have to tell him how to react. If he isn’t going to get it now, he’s never going to get it.
‘Forget it,’ I mutter, pushing past him. ‘Seriously, just forget it, Ram.’
Chapter 36
Frankie
I walk back to the club in silence, my arms folded firmly across my chest. Ram doesn’t try to initiate conversation and I’m glad. I’m sick of talking. I’m sick of being the only one to say what I’m thinking. I’m sick of going round in circles and being made to feel like the mad one, the out-of-order one, just because I have actual feelings and dare to express them. All I want to do is crawl into bed and wake up to discover this was all some weird-ass dream.
When we arrive back at Aphrodite’s, the bouncer is leaning against the entrance, looking at his phone.
‘The wanderer returns, eh?’ he says when he sees us approaching. He slides his phone back into his pocket, his piggy eyes glinting with amusement.
‘No thanks to you,’ I mutter.
Luckily he doesn’t seem to hear me. ‘Your little mate and her kid are down in the cloakroom,’ he says.
Ram turns to me. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
He’s leaving me here? Alone? With Jojo and the baby?
‘Why don’t I just come with you?’ I ask.
Not that I especially want to hang out with Ram any more tonight. I’m just not sure I can handle seeing Jojo right now, never mind be stuck in a confined space with her.
‘I’ll be quick, I promise.’
Before I can argue, he’s gone, sprinting back down the wet street.
‘Cloakroom’s at the bottom of the stairs,’ the bouncer says.
First Day of My Life Page 23
