Erica leant on the bunks and touched Molly’s arm. ‘Are you all right on the top? I’m happy with either.’
The anger welled again. ‘Can you not?’ Molly sighed, unravelling her headphones and stuffing them into her ears.
‘Not what?’ Erica asked.
‘Can you not pretend to care?’
‘What are you talking about? Of course I care.’
‘Yeah right.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Erica’s voice was no longer soft and quiet, but harsh. Angry.
Good. You’re angry. Join the sodding club.
‘Oh come on, it’s not like we grew up together. We saw each other twice a year in the school holidays, and that was only because my mum arranged it all. Anyway, if you cared so much where have you been for the past year? You have no idea –’ Molly stopped talking, suddenly aware of Noah’s presence in the room and the hot tears building behind her eyes. A shiver broke out over her skin as if the emotion bottled inside was breaking through the surface. Don’t cry, Mol. The last thing she wanted was for Erica to see she cared about their relationship, about any of this, because she really didn’t.
‘How can you say that? You’re the one who never answers the phone. I have been here the whole time.’
Molly gave a scoffing snort. ‘Just like you were there for Billy.’ Her voice cracked, betraying her emotion.
‘What? How can you even suggest …’ Erica shook her head. ‘He was my brother too.’
‘Half-brother,’ Molly hissed.
‘Oh right, so I’m only allowed to be half as sad as you then. Is that how it is? Never mind the fact that I saw Billy a lot more than you did in the last five years. What is it I did to you? Why are you being like this? We used to be pretty close, if you remember?’
‘Never mind.’ Molly bit off the words, hating herself for saying anything at all – to Rachel or Erica. ‘Forget it, OK? Just don’t pretend that we’re anything more than strangers. It’s annoying and stupid.’
‘Why did you agree to come then?’ Erica asked, her voice laced with hurt.
‘I wish I hadn’t,’ Molly mumbled, turning towards the wall as a single tear escaped her eye and slid down her cheek. There was no escape.
‘I wish you hadn’t either,’ Erica fired off the reply.
Molly powered on the iPod and a moment later the soft piano notes and mournful voice of Adele filled her ears and travelled down to her heart, where they lay like bricks on her chest. Why did you have to go and get yourself killed, Billy?
Erica
Erica stared at the coils of Molly’s hair for another moment. Frustration churned in Erica’s stomach and flamed in her cheeks.
So much for Molly needing her. So much for expecting Molly to show a little gratitude to Erica for organizing the challenge. But would it kill Molly to make a smidgen of effort? Yes, apparently.
Erica blew out a puff of air and pulled off her hat. She wasn’t sure who she was most annoyed with – Molly for the fight she’d picked, or herself for allowing Molly to wrangle her so easily.
‘Go team B,’ Erica said, turning to Noah with a shrug. ‘This is going to be a fun trip.’
Noah raised his eyebrows and flashed a sympathetic smile.
Erica wanted to say more. She wanted to explain to Noah what she couldn’t say to Molly: of course she wanted Molly here. The whole point of this challenge was for Molly and Erica to bond and be sisters again. Erica pulled in a deep breath and forced her frustration away. Molly might not realize it yet, but she needed her – Erica was sure of it. Erica had to put her own feelings aside and ignore Molly’s antagonizing, or the entire trip would be for nothing.
A minute later Rachel appeared from the bathroom, her face shining wet in the torchlight. Rachel’s eyes darted towards Molly’s bunk. A flash of relief crossed Rachel’s face.
‘Night,’ Rachel said, glancing at Erica before climbing up to her bunk.
‘Goodnight,’ Erica replied, digging out her wash bag and heading for the bathroom.
‘Just don’t pretend that we’re anything more than strangers.’ Molly’s voice taunted Erica’s thoughts as she closed the door to the washroom and searched for a mirror to peer into. The room was small with barely enough standing room between the sink and the toilet. The walls were the same horizontal wood as the cabin and there was no sign of a mirror, or a hot tap, Erica realized with a pang of longing for the heated floor tiles in her en suite.
How could Molly even suggest they were strangers?
The memories of school holidays spent in Sheffield were vivid in Erica’s mind as she climbed into her sleeping bag and she switched off her torch, plunging the cabin in total darkness.
Erica felt the floaty excitement she’d had in her stomach when her dad had come to collect her from the apartment. She hadn’t even cared about the snarling argument between her mum and dad in the doorway or how she knew her mum, Veronica, would be mean to her when she got back, because Erica had chosen to spend the holidays with her dad instead of Veronica.
Except it wasn’t really her dad that she was choosing. In their flat in Kensington, it was just Erica and her mum. She was an only child. Polite and courteous, Erica sat straight-backed in nice dresses through lunches with Veronica and Veronica’s friends. Erica hadn’t been permitted to do colouring at the table, never mind the tablets and phones so many children had to play with these days.
Erica’s emotions about her mother had swung from feeling like an inconvenience – a thorn in Veronica’s social life, to a pet. ‘My darling, Erica,’ Veronica had cooed in the company of her friends, dropping the endearment the moment they were home.
It was something Veronica didn’t understand. Erica wasn’t choosing to spend the holidays with her dad; she was choosing to spend it with Joyce, Billy, and Molly. She was choosing tree climbing in the park with Billy, paddling pools and tea parties with Molly. She was choosing den building in the living room with all the cushions off the sofa, and Joyce’s gregarious laughter, and big plates full of home-cooked shepherd’s pie followed by Neapolitan ice cream.
It had never mattered to Erica that she was seven years older than Billy and almost ten years older than Molly. If anything the age gap had given Erica the chance to catch up on the childhood she’d never had at home.
When Erica had turned eighteen she’d chosen to study Film and Television Production at Bradford over London so she could visit Joyce, Molly, and Billy at weekends. Her dad and Joyce had separated by this point, but to Erica it was Joyce, Billy, and Molly that were family.
Veronica still lived in her Kensington apartment, playing Bridge and dining with her friends. Erica saw her once every few months for dinner, but Veronica was no grandmother to Isla, just as she’d been no mother to Erica.
No. Molly was wrong. They were more than strangers. They shared more than DNA, freckles, and a useless dad; they shared memories. Good memories. Erica might not have been around as much as she should have, for Molly or Joyce, but that was going to change, starting now, whether Molly liked it or not.
‘… just like you were there for Billy?’
Molly had cut Erica off before she’d had a chance to respond. Although what was there to say?
Memories of Billy chasing Erica around the garden with the hose in the summer holidays filled Erica’s head. Of summer evenings sleeping together