Precious Thing Read Free

the loo, and I didn’t want to do it on the floor, so the bag was the next best place. He didn’t see me either. Though the bag was in a terrible state and the keys …’
    ‘Stop! I don’t want to hear any more,’ I say, but I am laughing too. ‘So who are the new friends?’
    Your laughter is replaced by a cough. I imagine the smile slipping from your face.
    ‘Just some people from school,’ you say finally.
    ‘Really? Who? Do I get to meet them?’
    ‘I didn’t realise I needed your approval on everything?’ Your mood has changed and your words slap me down.
    ‘Jesus, Clara, I’m only asking, I’m curious, that’s all …’ I let my sentence trail off.
Don’t bite, don’t rise to the bait.
    ‘Well since you ask, Sarah Pitts and Debbie Morton.’ You sound out the names slowly, for effect I think.
    Those names carry with them bucketloads of memories. In an instant I’m transported back to school, I can feel their hockey sticks on my shins, their elbows sharp in my ribs during netball. But that’s nothing compared with the time Lucy Redfern pushed me in the water on the PGL school trip in Shropshire. I see myself emerging from the lake; the whole class is laughing at me but Sarah’s cackle is the loudest. Lucy jokes that I needed a wash anyway, and her twin James leads the boys in a round of applause. You were there, Clara, you saw my face turn beetroot with the shame of it all.
    Then again it was a long time ago. Maybe they’ve changed, I think.
    ‘Does Debbie still smell of chips?’ I say. I don’t even ask about Sarah.
    ‘Fuck off, Rachel. You’re so up your own arse.’
    ‘Jesus Clara, I’m just joking. They ruined my last year at school but you know me, move on, never hold a grudge.’ You give something that sounds like a snort. ‘Though now I can see why I wasn’t invited,’ I add.
    For a moment neither of us speaks and the elation I felt at the beginning of our conversation is sucked out of me by the silence. I wonder if it will ever be right between us again.
    And then you say something that surprises me.
    ‘We’re going out again on Friday.’ Your voice is softer. You pause as if considering your words. ‘You could always come. Stay at mine afterwards. You might even change your mind about them.’
    I am about to say no and then I think about it for a moment. The first thing that occurs to me is that Jonny will be away, travelling out to Afghanistan to film a documentary, and I will be alone. The second thing I think of is this: Sarah Pitts was my high-school nemesis but who’s laughing now? I have the job, the boyfriend. She can’t touch me.
    ‘Why not,’ I tell you. ‘I might even enjoy myself.’
    On the roads there is an edge to the traffic, a hint of menace. Corporate boys bloated on expense accounts are tailgating in their Audis and BMWs, shining their lights too close to my Mini. I blink to clear my vision but the rain falling on the windscreen blurs it again just as quickly. Occasionally I question the wisdom of agreeing to meet you and Sarah and Debbie. Given the choice I would be at home, snuggling up with Jonny on the sofa, with a Thai takeaway and a bottle of wine. I think you’ve guessed I’m having second thoughts. You’ve called three times this week to check I’m still coming, which is unusual to say the least. Lately you rarely call or return mine.
    Anyway Jonny is staying at Gatwick tonight to catch an early flight so I’m not going to cry off. Our flat is cold and empty without him. It feels like we are two halves of the same person these days. With every other guy before him it was like they were from one planet and I was from another. And then he spoke to me and we just clicked and I thought
hello, my man from earth
. Before I knew it I was doing all the things I used to frown upon, like peeing in front of someone one minute and then fucking them the next with such an urgency, such a need that makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time. We