Forget Me Never Read online

  When Sophie didn’t answer my knock, I opened the door.

  ‘Hey,’ I said brightly. ‘Wakey-wakey.’

  Sophie rolled over and sat up, rubbing her eyes. The skin around them was puffy and stained with yesterday’s eyeliner. It looked as if she’d gone to bed in her clothes too.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  I tossed a paper bag into her lap. ‘Elevenses delivery. Full of gooey pastry delights.’

  Sophie opened the bag and picked one out, staring at it. When she didn’t take a bite, I said, ‘Promise it isn’t spinach in disguise. Think that one’s custard.’

  Sophie put the pastry back in the bag and closed it. ‘Don’t fancy right now.’

  ‘How about a thank you? That bakery wasn’t on my way, y’know.’ I perched on the side of the desk, shifting a laptop and some books to make space. How the heck did she cope living in this shoebox of a room? It would’ve driven me spare. ‘Tried to call you yesterday. I take it the police had a word.’

  She shrugged. ‘It made sense. End of story, I guess.’

  ‘Hey, where’s your fighting spirit? I was expecting you to be insisting they’d got it wrong.’

  ‘Maybe I would be, if I hadn’t got Aiden’s side of the story afterwards.’

  She explained what had happened in the park.

  ‘Are you serious?’ I exclaimed, leaning forward and nearly falling off the desk. ‘The guy followed you? Soph, that’s proper stalker behaviour! Are you not even mildly freaked out?’

  ‘Not any more. He was OK.’

  ‘I don’t give a toss how OK he was! He still followed you.’

  ‘Yeah, but I can understand why he felt he had to talk to me. I wanted to blame him for everything, but what’s the point?’ She paused. I had nothing to say; I didn’t like hearing her sound this defeated. ‘For a while I was convinced that someone must have killed her. But it’s like Perry said, isn’t it? At most Aiden’s indirectly responsible. Or maybe he had nothing to do with it and she jumped because she was unstable. I’ll never know. I should just get over it.’

  I shrugged. Letting Danielle go probably was the best thing Sophie could do, but it didn’t seem very loyal to say so. Sophie started fiddling with the bedsheets, popping and unpopping the end of the duvet cover. After a moment she said, ‘Didn’t mean to drag you into this.’

  I made a non-committal noise.

  ‘D’you want to stay for lunch?’ Sophie asked. ‘If you don’t mind hanging around while I get up.’

  I went downstairs to wait and watched the end of Toy Story 2 with the kids. After about half an hour Sophie appeared, looking a lot fresher. She gave me a self-conscious smile. We went into the kitchen and shared the pastries I’d brought while she made some ham sandwiches. She still wasn’t saying much. I wondered if she felt weird about me being around her house again.

  ‘Wanna do something this afternoon?’ I asked.

  Sophie looked at me with a slight frown. ‘What kind of thing?’

  I didn’t actually have a plan so I improvised. ‘Let’s go on the London Eye.’ As soon as I said it I knew I’d made a mistake. The Eye would be way too expensive for Sophie. Quickly I added, ‘I’ll pay. Haven’t spent all my birthday money yet.’

  I was convinced that Sophie would refuse. She hated money being an issue. Plus, I was hyper-aware that it sounded like I was asking her on a date. To my surprise she smiled.

  ‘You don’t like heights. The Eye’s a slow version of a big wheel – you chicken out of those at theme parks. And does the Year 8 trip to Edinburgh Castle ring any bells? As I remember, there was a lot of complaining from you that going up on the battlements was a waste of time – and then deathly silence once we were up there . . .’

  ‘I wasn’t scared. I was admiring the view.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Let’s go.’

  On the tube together it was almost like old times. When we reached the South Bank there was a staggeringly long queue of tourists by the Eye but it moved more quickly than we expected. As we got in our pod and it started to rise, I realized this wasn’t a good idea. I’d thought the Eye would be fine because it moves so slowly. Unfortunately I’d forgotten how small the world starts to look when you get up high. I retreated to the bench in the centre of the pod where it seemed safest, leaving everyone else oohing and aahing about the view from the sides.

  ‘Knew you’d wimp out.’ Sophie wasn’t making any effort to disguise her laughter. ‘Come on, coward, live a little. There’s a great view of Big Ben.’

  ‘I’m not a coward. I just have a highly toned sense of self-preservation,’ I said, feeling my stomach clench. Good job this wasn’t a date. Talk about losing street cred! ‘I can see Big Ben supremely well from ground level, thanks.’

  ‘Like I said: coward. What d’you think the Eye’s going to do, suddenly topple over and crash into the Thames?’

  ‘First time for everything,’ I said. But as we eased our way higher I ventured nearer to the windows. Actually it was pretty cool. We’d picked a clear day and could see for miles. So long as I didn’t look directly down I was fine.

  After we’d done the full cycle we went along to Tate Modern and mocked the crazy artwork. It was great just to be with Sophie without talking about Danielle. It was, simply, a nice, ordinary day – exactly what we both needed.

  SOPHIE

  Wednesday was busy. I spent the morning in Save the Animals and then sought out Paloma and co. in the park. We ended up moving on to the milkshake bar. It felt good to be doing normal things. On the way we passed Broom Hill. As I looked at the grey buildings and imagined myself walking back through the doors in a few weeks’ time I felt a horrible sense of dread.

  It was only when I was making my way home that evening that I had a chance to think about Danielle. Now I’d had time to reflect I didn’t feel anywhere near as angry as I had been – just sad. At least now I’d talked to Aiden I had some kind of closure.

  As I was walking down the road, digging in my bag for keys, I noticed a blue Mini parked opposite my house. I never normally noticed cars – but I’d seen this one before . . .

  It had been parked in exactly the same spot when I’d come back from the London Eye yesterday. I had noticed it because it was one of those new, hip Minis that sometimes have a pattern on the roof, a Union Jack or something. April, the seven-year-old Julie’s fostering, has a Barbie car just like it. I had been able to make out the driver’s outline and had assumed he was waiting to pick someone up, which had struck me as funny. Our road is mainly full of old people. I couldn’t imagine any of them ever jumping into a cool car, let alone at 9 p.m. when they could be home watching Midsomer Murders.

  So who was it waiting for? Yet again the driver was sitting inside. I didn’t have a great view of him – I was approaching from behind – and I was a little afraid of looking back once I’d passed by. Maybe it was paranoia, but something was warning me not to freak out – to act normal. I let myself into the house and ran upstairs to Julie’s room. I knew there would be binoculars there – Julie birdwatches every so often. Finding them, I went back into my room and closed the door behind me.

  You’re being silly, I told myself as I approached the window, from the side, where I couldn’t be seen.

  The man in the Mini was Aiden Anderson.

  My heart began to pump. Slowly I poked my head above the windowsill, still peeping through the blinds. It was definitely him – he was talking to someone on his mobile and he didn’t look too happy.

  Shit! I thought. How does he know where I live? Followed me again, I suppose!

  I drew my mobile from my pocket and called Reece.

  ‘Evening,’ he said when he picked up. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘He’s watching me,’ I said in a low voice.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Aiden Anderson! He’s sitting in a car parked over the road. It’s creeping me out!’

  ‘What?! Seriously?’

  ‘Do I sound like I’m joking? He was the
re yesterday too – well, the car was. I didn’t realize it was him. What could he possibly want?’

  ‘Calm down, Soph! You’re inside, you’re safe. Is Julie home?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, feeling slightly reassured. ‘Why’s he doing this, Reece? I thought it was over. He explained his story. I accepted it.’

  ‘D’you think he wants to talk to you?’

  ‘No! I just walked past – he could have called out or rung the doorbell or something. He’s just watching me.

  ‘Maybe stalking relatives of his ex-girlfriends is how he gets his kicks.’

  ‘Eww – don’t even go there! Seriously, what do I do?’

  ‘Call the police?’

  As Reece spoke I heard the sound of an engine starting. I watched the Mini turn left at the junction and let out a long sigh.

  ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘Good. D’you think he’ll come back?’

  I had no doubt the answer was yes.

  ‘Maybe I should talk to him next time,’ I said, feeling a bit calmer. ‘He can’t, like, do anything. This is a residential road – there are people about.

  ‘Doesn’t mean it’s safe. Bloke’s obviously a creep. I’ll talk to him.’

  I could just see Reece marching up and demanding Aiden explain why he was playing stalker – in those exact words. ‘No, thanks,’ I said.

  ‘Did you get his registration?’

  That hadn’t occurred to me. What an idiot! ‘No. It’s one of those new Minis though – a blue one.’

  ‘There was a scuffle from Reece’s end of the line. I wondered what he’d been up to – it didn’t sound like he was out with friends or anything. ‘Sophie . . . are you scared?’

  ‘Isn’t that obvious?!’ I snapped. When there was a silence, I sighed and sat on my bed, lying back on the pillows. ‘I just don’t understand. I thought this was over.’

  ‘Perhaps we should drop in on DI Perry. If I was him, I’d be pretty interested in this.’

  ‘He’ll tell me I imagined it! The police aren’t interested, Reece.’

  ‘How about you stay round mine a couple days? Aiden won’t find you here. We’ll work out what to do next. Maybe we can hack into his Facebook account or something.’ He cleared his throat. ‘This is of course assuming that you don’t find the idea of hanging out with me too repellent.’

  I hesitated. ‘Can’t see your mum agreeing.’

  ‘It’s my house too. It’s not like we don’t have space.’

  ‘OK,’ I said after a moment. Staying at Reece’s wouldn’t solve the problem – but it was something . . .

  When I told Julie the next day that I was going to stay over at Reece’s, she was fine so long as Effie was there. I wondered if that meant she didn’t trust us without adult supervision. She didn’t comment about us suddenly being friends again though, for which I was thankful.

  Effie was less than pleased. When I arrived at Reece’s that afternoon she came out into the hall and eyed my rucksack with a sour kind of look. I’d hardly packed much – just clothes, toiletries, Edith, some sewing I was working on – but from the way she acted you’d think I was moving in. She started having a go at Reece as I was unpacking in the guest room, which had an en-suite bathroom and was really spacious, with a double bed and a packed bookshelf. It smelt strongly of vanilla air freshener.

  ‘I can’t pretend I’m delighted,’ Effie was saying. I guessed she was in Reece’s room, next door. ‘I wish you’d asked me before telling her it was OK.’

  ‘Could have, but you’d have said no,’ I heard Reece say. ‘Stop being snobby!’

  ‘I’m not! I just think you’re spending too much time with her.’

  ‘You don’t like her, do you?’

  ‘She takes you for granted, and what’s more, you let her! And I don’t think you having a girl staying over is appropriate. You behave yourself, OK?’

  ‘Mum! That is a total overreaction.’

  I creaked the wardrobe door and noisily shifted some books on the bedside table. Reece and Effie fell silent. I let a moment pass, then opened the door.

  ‘Thanks for letting me stay,’ I said, poking my head around the door to Reece’s room.

  ‘Don’t mention it,’ Effie said thinly. ‘Do you like olives? I was going to get some from the delicatessen.’

  ‘Love them.’ I waited for her to leave, then turned to Reece and pulled a face. ‘Didn’t mean to get you into trouble.’

  Reece rubbed his shoulder, looking a bit awkward. ‘You know how Mum is. Least Aiden can’t get you here. That’s the main thing.’

  REECE

  Mum didn’t say much over dinner but there was definitely a chilly atmosphere. Fortunately Neve was completely oblivious and proved a helpful distraction. Sometimes I wished I could get back down to her level. She was nearly always happy. When she was sad, it only took a few words from Mum to coax her out of it. That kind of trust, the belief that people are good and the world’s OK – everyone loses that sooner or later. It’s sad when you realize it.

  I half thought Mum might follow me and Soph when we took our bowls of ice cream through to the sitting room. But she just said something about being in the conservatory if we needed her. I must have been in a strange mood because I asked Neve if she wanted to hang out with us. Neve usually jumped at any invitation to be a ‘big kid’. This time she just shook her head. Soph had already gone through. When I walked in she was rifling through the DVD collection.

  ‘I can’t believe how many you have,’ she said. It was amazing how relaxed she seemed. ‘Do you ever rewatch any of these?’

  ‘Sometimes. Any guesses which films are Mum’s and which are mine?’

  ‘If the thrillers are your mum’s and the costume dramas are yours, I’ll have to start reassessing things.’ Sophie chose the latest James Bond and we sat down. I stirred my ice cream into liquidy goo, half watching the introduction.

  We were very close on the sofa. Though we’d sat next to each other on the tube, on the Eye, when we’d been looking up stuff on my computer, this felt different. Maybe it was because we were doing normal things, rather than talking about murders and stalkers and police. It felt weirdly intense.

  I put my bowl down on the table. The ice cream was making me feel a little sick. As Bond blasted villains and dived out of burning buildings, I kept sneaking glances at Sophie. She was totally engrossed in the film. She had always been like this whenever we watched anything, however far-fetched the story. It was kind of cute. Her hair had got really long now, almost to her waist. As usual it could have done with a brush. I didn’t think Sophie realized how pretty she was. If she had, she might have made a bit more of herself. Plenty of times when we’d been out I’d seen guys looking at her, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  Once again I found myself thinking that I could have been a better friend to her recently. It wasn’t like I couldn’t deal with it – I knew I could. About a year ago Sophie had been acting weirdly. I’d realized something was badly wrong one afternoon when we were hanging out in Caffè Nero. I’d been telling her a story about something funny that had happened in history class, but halfway through I’d realized she was a million miles away. While Sophie might be moody, she wasn’t usually like this.

  I knew she’d bite my head off if I asked what was wrong in public, so I waited until we were alone at her house. I’m pretty rubbish at this kind of thing, but I must have done OK because she started crying.

  ‘I just can’t think any more,’ she had said. Everythings bad.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ I put my arm around her. Sophie flinched, but after a moment pressed her face into my shoulder, which really freaked me out. I said a lot of stuff about how it was OK to get upset and I wouldn’t tell anyone and how we were going to get past this.

  Sophie had said, ‘But people don’t get past bad things. You think you have, but it always stays with you.’

  I had realized a lot in that moment. I’d always known Sophie had had pretty rubbish lu
ck in life. She never bleated about it, but over the years I’d picked up enough to know that you don’t bounce back easily from what she’d been through. It messes with your sense of self-worth and your ability to trust. Most people thought Sophie was prickly and had a bad attitude, but I knew better. She looked after herself because she didn’t trust anyone else to.

  I also suddenly knew that it was really important not to give up on her.

  Looking back, I probably should have told someone at the time, but it seemed like I’d be betraying Soph. I knew now the reason she was feeling so rubbish. A couple of months earlier had been the anniversary of her mum and aunt dying and she’d been to the cemetery to visit the graves for the first time. The loss of her mum had really hit her then. She’d started remembering how her life used to be with her mum, and feeling guilty that she’d been taken into care, as if it had been her fault, and she kept having nightmares about cars crashing. I wasn’t sure what to say or that I even understood. I hadn’t known I had it in me to be so patient. Over autumn half-term I made her do stuff with me every day and I called and texted when we weren’t together. By the time December came she had started taking more of an interest in things.

  One day in the Christmas holidays we went to the funfair at Ally Pally and we bumped into some girls from Broom Hill. One of them was Zoe Edwards, whom I couldn’t stand. She’d always picked on Sophie in the kind of way teachers didn’t notice – nasty comments here and there, elbow pokes when Soph walked down the corridor, false rumours.

  ‘Ooh, we’ve interrupted their date,’ Zoe sneered. The other girls tittered as though she’d said something clever. ‘How’s it feel to have a crazy girlfriend, Reece? You could do so much better.’

  ‘Is that an offer?’ I’d asked. ‘In your dreams, Zoe. Why don’t you get lost? Not in the mood for a slagging match.’

  ‘I’m not slagging her off. I’m just, you know, stating the obvious.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘Come on, Soph.’