AS SOON AS Mum got home, Lydia ran to Avril’s house. All she could think about was what Granny H had said. How she’d loved without hope or reason. How she’d never found anyone else, for forty-five years. The expression on her face when Lydia had brought down the letters, the way she had touched the envelopes as if they were a person, fragile and immeasurably precious.
They had only read one letter out of the eight, the one with the earliest postmark. It had been written the Christmas after her father had died, and the thing about it was that it sounded so normal. It had news about his family, his three daughters and their children, who were Lydia’s cousins, now that she thought of it. Nothing about it would hint that it was the letter of a father to his son, except for the last line: I think about you often, and hope one day to meet again. And for the way Granny H had looked when Lydia had read it to her: greedy, drinking in every word, tears shining in her eyes.
Lydia ran faster. When she reached Avril’s block of flats, she was out of breath and had to recover for a minute before she pressed the button. Avril appeared almost immediately. ‘Hiya,’ she said, plainly pleased, and for a minute Lydia thought that everything was back to the way it had been last week, before Harry.
‘Want to go for a walk?’ Lydia asked.
‘Yeah, I’ll get my jacket.’
Lydia waited for her outside. She didn’t have her own jacket, and it was a little bit chilly, especially since she’d sweated a bit. She rubbed her hands over her arms and when Avril came down, she gave Lydia her pink hoodie. It smelled of her.
They walked around for a little while, off her estate and across the park. Lydia wasn’t really sure what to say, and the longer she didn’t say anything, the harder it was to start. When she’d been running, she’d had some idea of trying to persuade Avril that Harry wasn’t worth it. But Avril was smiling, like she had a wonderful secret, and there was a bounce in her step.
Jealousy felt awful. It was like burning acid eating away at her insides, destroying every good bit. It made her want to strike out at Avril for being so happy. Except she didn’t want to get into an argument. She didn’t even want to mention Harry, because Avril would be able to tell she was jealous, but she knew that Avril was dying for her to ask about him, so she’d have an excuse to talk about him. She wanted to feel his name in her mouth, like Lydia felt Avril’s name sometimes: the burr of the v on her lips, the kiss of the l on her tongue.
‘How’s your mum?’ Lydia asked finally. ‘Did she go to the parents’ evening?’
It was a mistake. Avril’s face closed up. ‘No. And she’s fine.’
‘Is she out tonight?’
‘She’s working. Why do you keep on bringing her up?’
‘Because … because I care about you?’
‘I told you, I don’t want to talk about her.’
‘All right. But you know, if you do …’
Avril’s phone went and she pulled it out of her pocket immediately, as if she’d been waiting for this very thing. She stopped walking and opened the text, and Lydia heard her sharp intake of air.
‘What?’
‘It’s …’ She giggled. ‘Look.’
She passed over the phone. It was nearly dark outside, and the screen glowed, and Lydia could see before she even took the phone that it was the selfie of Harry’s dick.
‘Really?’ she said.
It was the same one – the same mirror, the same underpants pulled down, the same reflection of the flash in the same spot.
‘God, that is pathetic.’
Avril snatched the phone back. ‘I don’t think it’s pathetic. I think it’s sexy.’
‘Av, don’t you think it’s a little creepy, him sending you pictures of his thing hanging out?’
‘No.’ She started walking again, fast.
‘He’s going to start asking you to send him one, now.’
‘What is it with you?’ Avril said. ‘Why can’t you just be happy that I’ve found a boy I like?’
‘Because you deserve someone better. Harry isn’t serious about you. He can’t be serious about anybody.’
‘And how can you possibly know that?’
‘Because he …’
‘Because he what, Lydia? Because you don’t like him for some reason? Because you do like him, but you blew it, and now he likes me instead?’
‘Because he sent me the same picture that he just sent you.’
Avril stopped. ‘When?’
‘A couple of weeks ago.’
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘I didn’t think it was important. I didn’t know then that it was his go-to pic for sending to all the laydeez.’
‘Show me.’
‘I deleted it.’
Avril shook her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Why would I make that up?’
‘Like I said. Because you’re jealous.’
Lydia was so jealous she felt like dying. ‘I’m not jealous. I just don’t think he’s good enough for you. That’s all.’
‘Lydia, everyone wants Harry Carter. Everyone. He’s the fittest boy in the whole school. In what way could he possibly be not good enough for me? Because he wasn’t good enough for you? Or was he only not good enough for you as long as no one else had him?’
‘I don’t think you can trust him.’
‘I can’t trust him? You lied to me!’
‘I didn’t lie, I just—’
‘Either you lied when you got the picture, or you’re lying to me now.’
‘Think about it,’ Lydia said desperately. ‘You don’t know anything about him, not really. And you deserve someone who really loves you. Who you really trust. Can you picture telling Harry about your mum?’
Avril whirled around. ‘I told you I don’t want to talk about my mum!’ she said, yelling it, practically screaming it. ‘I just want to be normal! Just normal, like everyone else, with a real boyfriend and a normal life! Why can’t you let me have that? Why can’t you be happy for me?’
And then she ran off, and Lydia was so shocked that she couldn’t follow her.