‘Bye,’ one of the girls said, waving at the group and leaping forward to peck Laura’s cheek. ‘Bye, Mum,’ she said.
The other twin mimicked the action and a moment later Molly found herself swept along towards departures. She turned back to give her mum a reassuring wave, but Joyce was already lost in conversation with Laura and being steered towards the coffee shop.
‘Is your mum always like that?’ one of the twins asked Molly.
‘I’m all she’s got,’ Molly said. She gritted her teeth, forcing her defences down. ‘She’s probably crying on your mum’s shoulder right about now.’
‘Ah, Mum will be pleased.’ One of the girls smiled. ‘She’s always got her eye out for someone to rescue.’
‘True.’ The other twin grinned. ‘That and a karaoke bar. She can spot them a mile off.’
‘No wonder your mum was so upset though. I don’t think our family will notice we’re gone. Do you, Harry?’
Harry laughed, her brace glinting in the light. ‘They wouldn’t notice if I left, but if you went, they’d wonder where all the mess had gone.’
‘Nice of your friends and family to come see you off,’ Molly said.
‘Ha,’ Frankie said. ‘That was just family. We have an older brother, who’s married with two children – Dawson and Kayleigh – the ones with the balloons. They’re living back home whilst they save for a house of their own. Then there’s us. And when we were, like, ten our mum got pregnant again with our twin brothers. So as you can imagine our house is a madhouse, which is why we keep signing up for these charity challenges –’
‘Anything to get away.’ Harry laughed.
‘Last year we did Mount Kenya, and the year before that we climbed to Everest base camp,’ Frankie said.
‘Why don’t you tell Molly our bra size too?’ Harry said, rolling her eyes in mock annoyance.
‘I’m only being friendly. I know it’s an alien concept for you.’
‘God, you’re just like Mum. Next you’ll be opening a bottle of Prosecco and singing Lady Gaga to yourself in the kitchen.’
The girls continued batting light-hearted jibes back and forth, like a well-practised tennis rally, but Molly had stopped listening. The acidic anger was bubbling again, searing in the space under her ribs.
‘Have we got time for a drink before our flight?’ Frankie asked, scooping up her jacket and bag from the black plastic tray and stepping away from the security area.
‘Definitely,’ Harry replied. ‘Let’s hit the bar. Last chance for a week.’ They moved forward and stopped a pace in front of Molly. ‘You coming, Molly?’
‘Umm … I’m good. I’m meeting someone.’
They hesitated, their matching blue eyes sharing a look of concern.
‘Don’t worry about me,’ Molly said. ‘I don’t need looking after. My mum was the one who was upset. I can take care of myself.’
‘We know.’ Frankie smiled and shrugged. ‘We’ll be in the bar if you change your mind.’
She wouldn’t.
The pain worsened as she moved from shop to shop, staring at everything and nothing. Molly knew she should call Erica, but she didn’t want to. What would be the point?
Molly fell into an empty row of chairs away from the central strip of shops and food outlets. She closed her eyes and drew in a long breath before exhaling, as if she could breathe the pain right out of her. The burning continued.
Molly pictured her mud-crusted running trainers, neglected and unused by the back door at home. How she craved to tighten the laces around her feet and dart out the back gate, into the fields and up to the peaks just like she’d done a thousand times with Billy, running a pace in front of her, urging her forward.
‘You’re going to be a champion runner, Mol,’ he used to call behind him whenever she’d started lagging. ‘You’re going to win gold in the Olympics.’
Anger spread through her veins. Her breath quickened. It had always been Molly and Billy and their mum. Molly saw her dad now and again, catching a lift in his taxi when she needed it, but he wasn’t part of them, not really. Even before she’d turned seven and her parents had separated, Molly couldn’t remember her dad sitting down with them at mealtimes, or playing games like her mum had always done.
Most days it seemed as though they were the only two people in the entire world now – Molly and her mum. It wasn’t fair. Billy had been the centre of their everything. He’d been their anchor. Without him, they were drifting in the dark. Molly was no champion without Billy. She was nothing without him.
Frankie and Harry had each other, and three brothers and two parents, and a niece and a nephew. All cheering them on. All healthy, all happy, all alive. And Molly had who? A mother half destroyed by grief and a half-sister she’d barely spoken to for the past year?
Molly gritted her teeth and hugged her stomach. She hated feeling this way. Hated what her life had become. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Molly tried to picture Billy’s face but her mind blanked.
‘There you are.’ Erica dropped down two seats away from Molly. ‘Excited?’
‘Not really,’ Molly said.
‘This is just what we need.’
‘Is it?’
Erica gave Molly a sideways glance, narrowing her eyes just like she’d done a thousand times over the years when Molly did or said something Erica didn’t approve of. Erica had always loved playing the all-knowing big sister role.
‘Did you remember to pack extra socks?’ Erica asked a moment later.
Molly puffed out a long breath of air before she spoke. ‘I’m not nine years old anymore.’
‘Don’t act like it then,’ Erica retorted and arched her back, stretching her arms above her head.
‘I’m not the one –’
‘Hey, Molly, our gate’s been called.’
Molly looked up to find Frankie and Harry standing at her feet.
‘We’ve been looking for you,’ Frankie said. ‘Time to go. Are you OK?’
Molly nodded and pulled herself up. Her head swam for a moment and the anger passed. ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘This is Erica. She’s coming on the trip too.’
‘Hi,’ the girls chorused.
‘Hi.’ Erica smiled. ‘I’m Molly’s sister.’
Molly watched the quizzical look pass between Frankie and Harry as they took in Erica’s pale skin and dark red hair, then moved their gaze to Molly’s tight black curls springing from her head and down to her shoulders.
‘Half-sisters obviously,’ Molly mumbled. ‘We have the same waste-of-space dad.’
‘And the same freckles.’ Frankie waved a finger between Molly and Erica. Molly touched her nose, suddenly self-conscious of the dots that speckled the bridge of her nose. Billy had had them too. And just like that she saw his grinning face in her mind.
‘We’re gate five,’ Harry said.
Erica fell into step with the twins and got the same download from Frankie as Molly had received earlier, giving Molly the chance to drop back a pace.
What was she doing on this trip?
Why had she ever thought she’d be able to escape the burning anger, the pain, the memories? It was an