My Best Friend's Secret by Karen Clarke

Author:Karen Clarke [Clarke, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2023-03-10T12:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

As I drove through Beaconsfield towards the A40, I glimpsed a familiar figure exiting a café along the high street. Jonah.

His phone was pressed to his ear, and he was tugging a black apron off as though an emergency had arisen. I slowed and lowered my window. Seeming to notice me, he stopped. I prepared to wave, to ask if everything was OK, but he spun abruptly, his back to me as he carried on talking into his phone.

The car behind me beeped. Thinking the sound would attract Jonah’s attention I waited a beat, but he remained motionless, apron dangling from one hand. I drove off, heart bumping. Had Jonah ignored me, or been so engrossed in his call he hadn’t recognised me?

Shaking off a sense of unease, I turned on the radio as I headed to High Wycombe, trying to imagine Ingrid’s reaction on seeing me. Perhaps she wouldn’t recognise me, but Elise had said her mother sometimes remembered things from decades ago, even if she didn’t know her own daughter these days.

As I drove, my heart sped up as my mind tumbled back to the last time I’d spoken to Ingrid. I’d just returned from Thailand to discover from my aunt that Elise had taken an almost fatal overdose, according to her mother, who had stormed round to the house a few days earlier, blaming me. My blood had chilled with shock as I finally listened to the messages Elise had left on my phone – messages I’d deliberately ignored, not wanting her intruding on my time away or to get dragged into whatever drama she’d constructed. Her increasingly distraught pleas for me to call, to talk to her, had filled me with a deep shame. I need you, Rose. I don’t know what I’ll do if you won’t talk to me. I’m so unhappy. I don’t think I can go on.

When I rushed round to see her, recuperating at her mother’s, Ingrid had launched into a drunken tirade about what a nerve I had, showing my face after what you’ve done, and I’d felt as guilty as though I’d been personally responsible for forcing the pills and vodka down Elise’s throat. Some friend you turned out to be.

Elise, clammy-skinned with purple-shadowed eyes, on the chaise longue in her old bedroom, had turned away when I reached for her. Elise, I’m sorry.

Just go, Rose. She’d sounded so bitter, and I could hardly blame her. You’ve made it clear you don’t care about me.

I should have been here. I’d felt desperate seeing her so pale, a shadow of the friend I’d left behind, had wanted to do something, anything, to raise a smile. I’m here now. Talk to me.

Honestly, Rose, I’m fine now. Her tone had hardened, her chin lifting. I won’t make the mistake of thinking you’re my friend ever again. You’re free. She’d wafted a hand towards the door. Off you go.

Elise, please—

Just leave me alone, Rose. She’d turned her head to look out of the window, so I could no longer read her expression.

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