‘Now and again with Layla. Not much, hardly worth mentioning.’
I screw my eyes shut. Layla is Daisy’s flatmate… was her flatmate. She’s travelling at the moment, though she sent me a message saying how heartbroken she was at the news of Daisy’s death.
‘Weed?’ My voice is barely a whisper. Daisy was always anti-drugs.
‘She said it relaxed her. You know what she was like.’ He’s stifling tears, just like me. ‘Always on the go. Always looking for the next thing to try. I just think Layla was a bad influence on her. I’m not convinced she even enjoyed it.’
‘But Daisy wasn’t one to be easily swayed. She knew her own mind. And in any case, an odd bit of weed doesn’t lead to the amount of drugs she had in her system when she died.’
George shrugs. The same as me, he doesn’t have an answer. Or maybe he does, and he doesn’t want to share what more he knows. I can’t see why he wouldn’t.
I have so many questions I want to ask, need to ask him, but now is not the time. Not because I’m not ready to ask them. More so, he’s not up to answering them. I replace the photo on the shelf. ‘I’m going to make a start on clearing Daisy’s room at uni tomorrow. Are you around?’
‘I’m sorry.’ His voice is as clogged as a blocked drain. ‘I can’t do tomorrow.’ He can’t abandon her… abandon me… already. I need him. He’s the only link to my sister’s life before she died. ‘What about the weekend?’
‘Sure.’ Silence falls between us as we peer around my sister’s room. ‘I’d have thought Layla would’ve come back for the funeral,’ I say. ‘Even if I was travelling, I can’t imagine not coming back for my best friend’s funeral.’
George squints at me. ‘I’ve got something to tell you, Scarlett.’
‘What?’
‘Layla’s not abroad.’
I frown. ‘Where is she, then?’
‘Here. She’s in rehab.’
‘Rehab?’ I gasp. ‘Daisy told me she was travelling in South-East Asia.’
‘No.’ George shakes his head repeatedly. ‘Layla checked herself into rehab a few weeks ago.’
3
NOW
BETH
My husband is too handsome for his own good. He has known I’ve thought this since the day we met. And he has made me pay for it ever since.
She sees it, too, this girl standing between us, her hand gripping the overhead rail. Mid-twenties. A rucksack. Blonde. Beautiful.
But he likes them young and beautiful.
A sick ache settles in my stomach as I watch him talking to her. Flirting with her, as the tram jolts her closer to him. Their legs touch. He looks up at her with those lime-green eyes. He’s caught a tan during our trip. A tan in Edinburgh. Who would’ve thought? Mind, it has been hot. He’s been working every day, as well. Even on my birthday, the gentle clicking of his keyboard woke me just gone five o’clock. Thinking about it, he probablygot the tan from the hour-long run he took each morning alone. At least, I assume he was alone. Who knows with Justin.
It’s coming. I’m waiting for it.
‘Would you like a seat?’ His husky voice travels along the carriage. People turn to stare. They do that a lot when Justin is around. It’s a voice I once found so appealing, too, so sensual and honeyed. He places his hands on his knees, preparing to get up.
She tucks a lock of blonde curls that has escaped her scruffy ponytail behind her ear. ‘No. No. I’m fine,’ she says lightly, touching the hollow of her throat, adjusting the tiny locket dangling from the black band of ribbon tied around her delicate neck.How I could reach out with both hands and wring the life out of her.‘I have a plane to catch. There’ll be plenty of time to sit on my flight.’
‘Ahh! You’re on the way to the airport, as well.’ He gives her one of his boyish grins. ‘Where are you flying to?’
‘Stockholm.’
‘You live in Stockholm? You don’t sound very Swedish.’
I know what he’s thinking – but you could pass for Swedish with all that blonde hair and tall, lean look.
