The Friend by Teresa Driscoll

Author:Teresa Driscoll [Driscoll, Teresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781542046664
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2018-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

‘You’re still cross with me.’ Emma was wiping the inside of the windscreen with an old rag as I threw my small grey rucksack through the gap between us on to the back seat.

‘Not cross exactly.’

‘Yes, you are.’

We fidgeted as she pulled out of the village – me with my seatbelt and Emma rewiping the windscreen, both in turn stealing a glance sideways at each other.

‘So Ben was fine, then?’

‘Yes. Too relaxed. It sounds crazy but I felt hurt.’

‘Theo was the same. I guess it just means we’ve done OK by them.’

‘That’s what Mark said.’

‘So – I’ve checked this route on the map and we’ll have bags of time. We can either circle back via Thurlestone—’

‘I am cross with you, actually.’

‘Oh, thank heavens.’

‘Excuse me?’ I turned to see she was frowning. ‘You’re saying you’re pleased that I’m pissed off?’

‘No – of course not. I’m just saying it’s such a bloody relief to get this over with.’

‘What?’

‘Our first row.’

‘Oh – don’t be so childish, Emma. We’re not going to have a row.’

‘Yes we are. It’s precisely what we need.’

‘Need?’

‘Yes, Sophie. It’s what people do. Say what they really think and feel. Have a row. Clear the air. Move on.’

‘I don’t see your point.’

‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? Because you don’t do rows, do you?’

‘And now you’re being ridiculous.’

‘I’m not. It’s the truth, isn’t it? That you bottle things up. Do anything – say anything to keep the peace. To avoid conflict.’

‘Rubbish.’

‘Is it? OK. So when was the last time you had a fight? With Mark? With anyone? Not just a passive-aggressive niggle but a proper, let-it-all-hang-out ding dong. You know, where you say what you really think about something instead of eggshells and martyrdom.’

‘Look, I have no idea where this is coming from. But if you’re going to be like this, I think you’d best just turn round and take me home.’

‘See. That’s exactly what I mean. Sometimes I wonder how you ever held your own in advertising.’

There was a pause and I felt this strong tightening in my chest, my left hand clasped into a fist so that the nails were digging uncomfortably into the flesh – turning away to look out of the window because I didn’t want Emma to see my face.

‘Look – I shouldn’t have mentioned work. Or Mark,’ Emma said suddenly. ‘I’m sorry. But the point I’m trying to make is that you always go with whatever will make for the easy life. In all the time I’ve known you, you always let me pick what we do. Where we go. What we eat. What we drink. It’s a nice quality, Sophie. I admire it to a point, but in the end it’s dishonest. Because the problem is you sometimes get this little look on your face, which you’re wearing right this moment, which means that you’re thinking something entirely different from what is coming out of your mouth. And it gets to the point where I just wish you would spit it out for once, for Christ’s sake.

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