top of the wardrobe—’
‘Cat, we need to talk,’ he said, and something in his look and voice turned her heart to stone.
She sat down on the bed abruptly, and listened while he told her about the other medical student who had been working at the hospital with him. She listened in silence, afraid that if she opened her mouth she might start screaming, or be sick, or something equally humiliating.
Will, her lovely Will, was saying, ‘We’ve always been straight with each other and I knew you’d prefer not to get stuff like, you know, “I think we need a bit of space.” Then you’d hear about Elaine and it would be worse that I hadn’t told you face-to-face …’
He seemed to be patting himself on the back for heroism. ‘Oh, you think?’ Cat muttered. Her throat felt so tight she could hardly get the words out and her lips were oddly numb.
Will looked sheepish. ‘Well, it was just a boy-girl thing, Cat. You can’t have expected it to last.’
A boy-girl thing?
This from Will, the love of her life, who had always talked about ‘for ever’? She found her voice.
‘Get out! Get out right now. I never want to see you or speak to you again.’ She jumped up and seized her mobile from the desk with trembling hands. ‘See? There’s your number – I’ve deleted it. If you phone me, I won’t answer. I’m deleting you from my life as well.’ She flung the phone down on the bed.
It was a good line. She was rather proud of it, as Will, murmuring some crap about having hoped they could be friends, departed.
‘Good riddance!’ she shouted down the corridor after him, and slammed the door. But then the tears came.
Ten minutes later, Cat was still crying. Her nose was blocked, her eyes were swollen and her chest was aching as if her heart, indeed, had broken. And there was no one to go to for comfort. Will had been her only friend in Glasgow, and now she had no one at all. She had never felt so lonely, so utterly wretched. She wanted her mother.
Mum had always been great when bad things happened – when Jenny had said she didn’t want to be best friends any more, when the boy she really, really fancied in Year Ten told her he didn’t fancy her because she had spots. Mum could make you see it wasn’t the end of the world, and then she’d say something acidly funny about them that made you laugh. She badly needed a laugh at the moment. Cat reached for her mobile again.
But what was the point? Mum was in the middle of a murder inquiry and that took precedence over everything – like Cammie almost crippling himself that time or her daughter feeling suicidal now.
She didn’t, quite, of course. Cat wasn’t about to give Will Irvinethe satisfaction of knowing how he’d hurt her. And it did hurt – how it hurt! She flung herself down on the bed and buried her face in the pillow.
When the door opened, Cat sat up, blinking and sniffing. The girl in the doorway was very skinny, all in black with her face so pale that her eyes, dramatic with jet-black eyeliner and mascara and iridescent eyeshadow, looked like dark holes above her purple mouth. There was a stud in her nose and half a dozen metal rings down one ear, and another through her brow. She was trailing a huge black canvas bag on wheels, which she parked beside the other bed, and looked in some surprise at her room-mate.
‘Got a problem?’
Licking her dry lips, Cat said, ‘I’ve just been dumped.’ Forming the words for the first time made her feel worse and the tears started again.
‘Bummer,’ her Goth companion said, not unkindly. ‘Boy next door?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Better without him.’ She was looking round the room. ‘Jeez, what a hellhole. Still, don’t plan on hanging out here much.’
There was something bracing about such breezy indifference. Cat found a tissue and blew her nose hard. ‘I’m Catriona Fleming – Cat,’ she said.
‘Lily.’ She sketched a salute with one finger. She kicked at her bag. ‘This can
‘Cat, we need to talk,’ he said, and something in his look and voice turned her heart to stone.
She sat down on the bed abruptly, and listened while he told her about the other medical student who had been working at the hospital with him. She listened in silence, afraid that if she opened her mouth she might start screaming, or be sick, or something equally humiliating.
Will, her lovely Will, was saying, ‘We’ve always been straight with each other and I knew you’d prefer not to get stuff like, you know, “I think we need a bit of space.” Then you’d hear about Elaine and it would be worse that I hadn’t told you face-to-face …’
He seemed to be patting himself on the back for heroism. ‘Oh, you think?’ Cat muttered. Her throat felt so tight she could hardly get the words out and her lips were oddly numb.
Will looked sheepish. ‘Well, it was just a boy-girl thing, Cat. You can’t have expected it to last.’
A boy-girl thing?
This from Will, the love of her life, who had always talked about ‘for ever’? She found her voice.
‘Get out! Get out right now. I never want to see you or speak to you again.’ She jumped up and seized her mobile from the desk with trembling hands. ‘See? There’s your number – I’ve deleted it. If you phone me, I won’t answer. I’m deleting you from my life as well.’ She flung the phone down on the bed.
It was a good line. She was rather proud of it, as Will, murmuring some crap about having hoped they could be friends, departed.
‘Good riddance!’ she shouted down the corridor after him, and slammed the door. But then the tears came.
Ten minutes later, Cat was still crying. Her nose was blocked, her eyes were swollen and her chest was aching as if her heart, indeed, had broken. And there was no one to go to for comfort. Will had been her only friend in Glasgow, and now she had no one at all. She had never felt so lonely, so utterly wretched. She wanted her mother.
Mum had always been great when bad things happened – when Jenny had said she didn’t want to be best friends any more, when the boy she really, really fancied in Year Ten told her he didn’t fancy her because she had spots. Mum could make you see it wasn’t the end of the world, and then she’d say something acidly funny about them that made you laugh. She badly needed a laugh at the moment. Cat reached for her mobile again.
But what was the point? Mum was in the middle of a murder inquiry and that took precedence over everything – like Cammie almost crippling himself that time or her daughter feeling suicidal now.
She didn’t, quite, of course. Cat wasn’t about to give Will Irvinethe satisfaction of knowing how he’d hurt her. And it did hurt – how it hurt! She flung herself down on the bed and buried her face in the pillow.
When the door opened, Cat sat up, blinking and sniffing. The girl in the doorway was very skinny, all in black with her face so pale that her eyes, dramatic with jet-black eyeliner and mascara and iridescent eyeshadow, looked like dark holes above her purple mouth. There was a stud in her nose and half a dozen metal rings down one ear, and another through her brow. She was trailing a huge black canvas bag on wheels, which she parked beside the other bed, and looked in some surprise at her room-mate.
‘Got a problem?’
Licking her dry lips, Cat said, ‘I’ve just been dumped.’ Forming the words for the first time made her feel worse and the tears started again.
‘Bummer,’ her Goth companion said, not unkindly. ‘Boy next door?’
‘Sort of.’
‘Better without him.’ She was looking round the room. ‘Jeez, what a hellhole. Still, don’t plan on hanging out here much.’
There was something bracing about such breezy indifference. Cat found a tissue and blew her nose hard. ‘I’m Catriona Fleming – Cat,’ she said.
‘Lily.’ She sketched a salute with one finger. She kicked at her bag. ‘This can
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