Chapter 8

It was a beautifully sunny morning. I could see Agnes and Jake waiting for me on the platform opposite and I had a clear two minutes before the train arrived. I had nailed this!

I kissed Mum quickly.

‘Don’t worry, Auntie Sadie is collecting us from the station.’

Agnes was waving, and I was uber-aware that Jake was sat right next to her. Mum still knew nothing about Jake, and I literally didn’t have the time to explain.

‘You don’t have to wave me off,’ I said, willing her to leave.

Mum looked towards the platform, then back towards the car. She’d parked on double yellows.

‘I’m fine. Honestly,’ I said. ‘You can text whenever you’re missing me.’

Mum smiled and hugged me. ‘Be safe, OK? Have an amazing time.’ She squeezed extra hard on the word amazing.

‘Of course,’ I said as she let go. ‘It’s pretty much guaranteed with a study break.’

She laughed. ‘And yes, please do some work.’

Which made me wonder how much she knew.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Agnes was off the bench now and pretty much dancing in her effort to get me to the platform before the train arrived.

‘I’ve got to go.’

Mum hugged me again. ‘Have fun.’

I took a photo of the station and uploaded it to Instagram, trimming Agnes off the edge. Holiday here I come.

I walked through the barriers and made my way up and over to the opposite platform. I looked across the tracks. Mum hadn’t moved. If she got a parking ticket, it would be all her own fault.

‘Jake!’ I called, keeping my eyes on Mum and not looking sideways at him. I was pretty certain Mum could only see us, not hear us. ‘Stay over there, OK?’

‘What?’

‘Just do it!’

I glanced across at him. He had stayed on the bench. Agnes was next to me but that didn’t matter. It would have been odd if she wasn’t. From Mum’s point of view.

I turned back to Mum and waved. ‘Wave at my mum, would you?’ I said to Agnes.

We both stood and waved.

‘Think the train’s coming.’ Agnes looked down the track.

‘Oh, thank goodness for that.’

The train pulled in, blocking Mum’s view.

‘Come on, Jake!’ I called. ‘This is us.’

He hadn’t heard me. He was just sat, staring into the distance.

‘Jake!’

‘Huh?’

‘It’s our train! Come on!’

‘OK, right.’

Jake and I heaved our bags up the two steps onto the train. Followed by Agnes.

Agnes was eyeing us up. ‘You didn’t follow my packing instructions, did you? Those bags are way heavier.’

‘It’s fine.’ I wheezed dramatically and strained to lift my bag.

Jake chuckled. Agnes rolled her eyes.

We pushed our bags into the luggage rack and got seats around a table. I waved one last time to Mum, as the train pulled out of the station.

‘Phew,’ I said, dropping my hand. ‘That was close.’

Agnes was frowning at me.

‘What?’ I said. Surely I hadn’t broken another one of her rules?

‘What was close?’

Ah.

‘I haven’t told Mum that Jake’s coming with us.’

‘You didn’t?’ Both Agnes and Jake reacted.

‘She’s so uptight about that sort of thing, and I didn’t want to have to explain.’

‘But it’s going to be ten times worse if she ever finds out,’ said Agnes. It’s annoying how right she was.

‘I know. Which is why she can never know, OK?’

Jake was grinning.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Just didn’t think I was the kind of boy you’d keep secret from parents, that’s all. Reckon I need to revise my image.’

I laughed. ‘Yeah, you’re a real wild one. So, you told your parents, right? What did they say?’

Jake smiled. ‘It’s Mum and my stepdad, and they were totally fine with it. Wanted to know everything about you both, of course, but no problem.’

‘You tell them about the lie-detector test?’ I challenged.

‘No!’

Both Jake and I laughed. Agnes was looking between us, as if trying to work us out.

‘But you just said you told them everything,’ she said.

‘Everything they needed to know.’ Jake grinned. ‘There’s a difference.’

Agnes nodded. ‘Ah, got it. Yes, that’s what I did too.’ She seemed pleased to have un-puzzled our conversation. ‘I told my mum we’re going to Blackpool.’

That made both me and Jake howl with laughter.

‘What?’

‘That’s loads worse,’ said Jake.

‘Why?’ said Agnes. ‘It’s just a lie, just like yours.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I’m starving. Who brought the snacks?’

‘That was supposed to be your job.’ Agnes looked my way.

‘Was it? Oh crap. I forgot.’

‘Luckily, I’ve got back-up snacks.’

She produced a flask of tea and three packets of Skips. Her Saturday snack, evidently.

‘What is it with the snacks?’ asked Jake. ‘Have you got like set snacks for set days?’

‘Yes,’ said Agnes. ‘It makes sense, doesn’t it? Varied diet, saves time decision-making and you can plan ahead. I’m always surprised more people don’t do it, to be honest.’

Jake put a Skip on his tongue and thought for a moment.

‘It’s OK,’ said Agnes. ‘You can say it. I know most people don’t think like me. I have Asperger’s. What’s logical and sensible to me, isn’t always the same for others.’

‘Actually, I was just thinking when you put snack planning like that, it does actually make sense,’ said Jake.

‘Just most people can’t be bothered,’ I said.

Agnes shrugged. ‘Doesn’t seem like a great reason not to do something though, does it?’

We changed trains without any bother and basically munched and chatted all the way to Weston.

‘Exactly on time,’ said Agnes, approvingly, looking at her watch.

I bit my lip. I’d told Auntie Sadie we got in at three. And it was only two-thirty.

We stood at the station’s entrance, with our bags heaped next to us. There was a gentle mist drizzling, slowly soaking us. I took a selfie, with the ornamental station in background. Vintage Weston – love it.

‘What does your aunt look like?’ asked Jake.

‘Like this.’ Agnes thrust a photo of my aunt from about thirty years ago in front of us. ‘I got it off the tourist information website.’ She saw our expressions. ‘What? I do my research, OK?’

I was going to have to come clean about her not getting here until three, and that she didn’t look anything like that picture, when a small minibus pulled up in front of us. The window wound down.

‘All right, my munchkins?’ It was Auntie Sadie. No need to fess up now.

She switched off the engine, put her hazards on and got out. ‘Figured you’d be on this train,’ she said to me. ‘There wasn’t one arriving at three.’

Agnes frowned at me. Yeah, cheers, Aunt S.

She was dressed as wackily as ever. She is what my mum describes as a ‘splash of colour’. Every colour. Including a new hair colour: vivid purple.

She gave me a massive hug. ‘So good to see you, gorgeous girl.’

I hugged her back.

‘And you must be Agnes?’

Agnes put her hand out to shake, but Auntie Sadie pulled her into a massive hug. Agnes looked shocked.

Jake got the same bear-hug treatment, before we loaded our bags into the back of the van and got in.

Agnes was chatting to Auntie Sadie about meals and menus, which made a ton more sense now I knew Agnes had Asperger’s. I checked Instagram. There were loads of new photos of Scarlett, Chelsea and Zara. They looked like they were having an amazing time. Seeing them really didn’t make me feel great, so why did I keep looking?

I’d really dropped off posting. I mean I still was, but I didn’t like to admit that there wasn’t as much going on. Not since I’d been ghosted. And my likes were way down. But that was going to change. This week was going to be amazing. I looked out of the minibus window. We were driving along the seafront now. The mist was rolling in off the sea and up and over the sea wall. There was hardly anyone about. Unless I could get an arty shot of the pier disappearing into the mist, this was not a good day to start Instagramming again.

I flicked back to Scarlett’s account: picture after picture of her and Bailey came up, their arms wrapped round each other, gazing into each other’s eyes. There was even one of them eating spaghetti like they do in that Disney movie.

My stomach knotted again, making me want to double over a bit as I scrolled. I couldn’t look at Bailey. Memories of the party made me shudder. I’d been sure no one had seen. It had been an awful thing, but I’d walked away as fast as I could. I’d thought that would be it. That it would be over. But Sharleen must have seen. Bailey wouldn’t have told anyone? Surely he wasn’t that stupid? But what those photos shouted at me was that Scarlett believed Bailey, believed Sharleen and didn’t believe me. That’s the bit that hurt the most, like I’d been punched in the soul.