‘I’m sorry, Alice,’ Lainey says. ‘I’m really sorry it had to turn out this way. We used to be friends; best friends, do you remember? We did everything together. We shared secrets, hopes, dreams … all that stuff. Remember?’
She sits down on the edge of the bed, smiling.
‘Then we grew up, and I suppose we grew apart; the magazines say it happens a lot, right? I feel a bit mean saying it, Alice, but – well, you started to get on my nerves. You were so full of yourself; too keen, too chirpy. You tried too hard … Miss Goody Two-Shoes. I’m only saying what I thought back then, Alice. No offence. You got too big for your boots … all that drama stuff went to your head.’
Lainey sighs, smoothing down the bedcover, straightening the sheet.
‘All that chat about Luke. Every day, over and over; Luke said this, Luke said that … like he was some kind of dream boy. You knew I liked Luke, Alice. I’d liked him for years; it was one of those secrets we shared. We promised we’d never let a boy come between us, but your promise didn’t mean a thing, did it, Alice? You barely noticed he was alive for most of primary school, and then, the minute you were in that stupid play together, that was that. You forgot your promises; you forgot me.’
Lainey laughs. ‘It’s not that I bear a grudge,’ she says. ‘I just find it hard to forgive, sometimes, you know? Besides, you were a bit of a pathetic friend. I can’t say I missed you when we stopped hanging out; Yaz was always more fun and Savvy and Erin were awesome. I was happy. And then you messed it up all over again …’
Lainey edges a little closer, her voice cold.
‘When we met Luke and Dex by accident I knew that was my chance to make Luke notice me. We talked and talked, but all he wanted to know about was you. What were you doing; why didn’t you do drama any more; did you have a boyfriend. It made me sick, Alice. Seriously. And then Savvy had her bright idea of asking you to the sleepover and this whole stupid nightmare began.
‘You can’t help it, can you? You just have to take the things I want away from me. The lead role in the school play, the boy I’ve been crushing on since I was nine years old, even Savvy. Did I tell you she’s gone into some kind of meltdown about all this? She’s all eaten up with guilt and fear, not like herself at all, and that’s your fault, Alice Beech. You wanted everything I had, didn’t you? It’s just the way you work. Do you want to know the truth? I’m not sorry I shut you in the cellar. You made me so mad, so angry. You’re so stupid you couldn’t even tell when you weren’t wanted; you couldn’t go quietly. You had to make a fuss and argue, and you had to go and fall. You ruined everything for everybody, and yet you’re the one getting all the sympathy. So typical!’
Lainey bites her lip and takes in a ragged breath. Her eyes well with tears that spill over and roll down her cheeks relentlessly, and when she speaks again, her voice is shaking.
‘He came to see you again, didn’t he?’ she asks. ‘Luke, I mean. Your gran said. He’s not going to hang around and wait for you forever, you know. Nobody would expect him to do that.
‘I don’t even think you can hear me, can you? What’s the point of telling you any of this? You’re just hanging on, being kept alive by the doctors and these stupid machines. Your family might be kidding themselves you’ll get better, but I think they’re wrong. I don’t think you’d want to be like this, Alice – useless, out of it, like … like some kind of vegetable. It’s just cruel, wrong.’
Lainey wipes her eyes, tries to smile.
‘I don’t even know what these things are doing: all these wires, all this buzzing and bleeping. Doesn’t it get on your nerves? Doesn’t it bug you? It would me. Sometimes the best, kindest thing to do is to just let go. I’m telling you this as a friend, Alice, for old times’ sake …’
Lainey’s fingers reach out towards the wires connecting the nearest monitor to Alice’s chest, as if she might grab them and tear them away; but her hands are trembling so much she cannot make the connection and abruptly she steps back, sobbing harder, as if shocked at what she has almost done.
‘I wouldn’t, Alice,’ she gasps. ‘You know that, right? I can’t bear seeing you like this, but I wouldn’t hurt you. I didn’t mean you to fall; it’s just that I was angry and you were too, and it was dark. Is it too late, Alice? Do you ever wish you could just go back and do things differently?’
Without warning, the nearest monitor begins to emit a high-pitched shrieking sound, and the electronic trace flatlines.
Lainey screams.