Better Left Buried Read Free Page A

way.”
    She wrinkles up the end of her nose. “Why is that weird exactly?”
    â€œI don’t know. It just was. He saw me – I mean, he looked right at me – then suddenly did a U-turn and started off back down the road. But fast, as if he wanted to get away or something.”
    Lizzie’s expression lifts into a grin. “Can you blame him?”
    I pull a face at her. “Seriously. It was like he was running off.”
    â€œMaybe he forgot something and turned back? Or perhaps he was lost.”
    â€œBut why would he look at me like that?”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œSo…kind of…intense. As if he recognized me. But he couldn’t have done – I’ve never met him before.”
    â€œYou sure?”
    I hesitate. “I think so. At least, I’m sure I’ve never actually spoken to him, but he did look sort of familiar.”
    â€œJeez, Sarah, I don’t know.” There’s an edge to Lizzie’s tone. As if she’s tired of this whole conversation. “Why does it matter? Was he really hot or something?”
    I stare at her for a second or two. “Forget it,” I snap, dangerously close to tears. Why is she being like this? It’s never felt this awkward, not in all the years we’ve been friends, since that first day I stood alone in the playground and she grabbed my hand and refused to let go till home time.
    I blink as the gap in the conversation grows into a chasm, pressing my lips together in an effort not to cry.
    â€œOh god, Sarah, I’m sorry.” Lizzie shuffles to the edge of the bed and lowers her head so it’s level with mine. “C’mon, I apologize. I was only kidding.” She kicks her foot gently against my arm so I’m forced to look up. “Honestly, don’t get worked up about it. You probably just imagined it.”
    â€œI didn’t!” My voice indignant now. “He—”
    â€œI don’t mean you made it up, Sarah…more you maybe got things a bit out of proportion. You know…because of Max.” She sees my expression and backs off. “I only meant you’ve had a lot to deal with. It’s bound to leave you a little edgy, that’s all.”
    I sniff, my anger subsiding into doubt. Did he actually look at me that way? It’s not as if I’m anything remarkable. Medium height, medium build, medium brown hair. Medium everything, really.
    I rerun the whole scene in my head, fuzzier now. It was all so quick. Impossible to be sure what did happen. I can’t picture the guy’s face exactly so much as remember the way it made me feel.
    Bewildered. Like there was something I was missing.
    I give in and smile, letting go of my resentment. Lizzie’s right. I’m making a big deal out of nothing.
    After all, it’s not as if I’m ever likely to see him again.

3
monday 8th august
    I hear the sobbing the moment I get back from work. I drop my bag and race into the living room. Mum is sitting on the edge of the sofa, shoulders hunched, heaving slightly with each rush of tears.
    A letter in her hands.
    I sit beside her, put my arms round her waist and rest my head against hers. I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.
    After a few minutes Mum straightens up. She folds the letter and drops it onto the coffee table, dragging the heel of her hand across her cheeks as she looks at me and tries to smile. I notice lines on her forehead and around her eyes that I swear weren’t there a few weeks ago.
    â€œI’m sorry, Sarah. I’m okay. Really. Just…you know.”
    Her gaze drops from mine, embarrassed. I’m almost relieved. I can hardly bear the pain I see there.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she says again. “I should have left it for your dad to open.” She lifts a hand and smooths it over her hair. Her feet are bare and she’s still wearing the T-shirt and pyjama bottoms she had on yesterday.