One More Thing

Chapter Ten: The Letter

My dearest Valerie,

I am so so sorry. I know you probably don't want to speak to me ever again, and that's okay. I wouldn't want to speak to me either. I know I've let you down, and I can't express how sorry I am. Truly.

I just wanted to know how you're doing. How's school? Is Lucas okay? I worry about you two a lot. I hope your father is treating you well.

I'm going to be very honest, it saddens me that you are all cutting me off. Not that I blame you, but it still crushes me.

I've got used to it here, though. The food tastes like trite and the noise is unbearable. Not to mention having to wake up at 5am every day. It's hellish, but I'm no longer saddened by being here.

Anyway, enough about me. How are you doing? I miss you more than you can imagine. It would mean the world to me if you wrote back.

I'm sorry. I don't want you to think I'm guilt-tripping you. I'm sure you recognise that it's not that. I just don't want to lose you, Valerie.

Love,

Mum x

I sigh. This was the last letter Mum wrote to me and I still haven't replied. Part of me wants to, but the other part says no. My therapist reckons that my mum uses guilt tripping tactics to manipulate me and, while I'd never noticed it myself, I can't un-see it now. I can't tell if the apologies are genuine or if they're part of a bigger, more sinister agenda.

She sent this letter three months ago. I'd never replied to the previous two letters.

I've decided I'm not going to reply to this one either. I just needed to read it for the sake of my own sanity.

I shove the letter back into its envelope and put it back into the drawer. I wonder if she'll send a follow-up in a month or two.

Or maybe she'll stop bothering once she realises that she's lost her own game.

Not that she'd ever admit it.

I make a start on my English homework, trying to block the whole mum thing from my mind. We have to read the next twenty pages of Paradise Lost and I can't be bothered. None of it ever makes sense to me until Mr Parsons, my English teacher, goes through it with the class and unravels the language like a tangled ball of wool. It always seems so obvious afterwards.

Honestly, I think I've realised that most things in life are like that.

Once I have skimmed through twenty pages worth of angels, snakes and forbidden fruit, I head downstairs to make dinner.

Jude and Sydney are in the kitchen, cooking together. The air is filled with the warm aromas of paprika and cumin. My stomach is rumbling and I want to ask what they're making, but decide against it. Any attempt at communicating with Jude won't go down well.

He is standing with his arms around Sydney as she flips something in a frying pan. He's whispering in her ear and they're laughing like only the two of them have ever existed.

I go to the cupboard to grab a plate.

"Excuse me," I say quietly, wishing the cupboard wasn't right next to their feet.

"Sorry," says Jude, pulling Sydney out of the way.

I grab the plate as quickly as I can and head over to the other side of the kitchen to make beans on toast. It's one of those occasions where I need to make myself scarce.

Before I've finished making my food, Jude and Sydney go to sit at the table with a plate full of quesadillas.

I freeze, saucepan in hand. I'm side-on to them so it's hard to ignore them.

"Want a quesadilla, Valerie?" Jude asks.

I can feel Sydney's ice cold stare boring into my skull.

"I'll be okay," I say, lifting my eyes to look at them both for the briefest of seconds. They look just as I'd imagined, Jude earnest and slightly apprehensive. Sydney wary and tense.

"Thanks, though," I mutter, looking at the Cath Kidston tablecloth.

I can't emphasise how much the aesthetic of our house has changed since Cathy and Sydney moved in here.

I pile the baked beans onto the toast and chuck the pan in the sink to soak. Then I dash off to my room to eat in peace.

In the corner of my eye I can see Jude watching me with an indecipherable look in his eyes.

Thoughtful. Confused.

Maybe even a tiny bit sad.

But it's probably all in my head.