Page 3 of Plot Twist

‘Sorry, who’s this?’

‘It’s Adam. Rae’s brother.’

A flashback popped into my head of the Halloween he’d dressed up as Big Bird fromSesame Streetfor a fancy dress party he was heading to in Glasgow’s West End (i.e. ‘the posh end’). I was horrified; Rae was mortified. We tried to convince him to change but he just kept flapping his wings at us.

‘It’s about Rae. . .’ he said.

Next thing I knew, I’d dropped the phone at my feet.

2

‘The wee chapel up the hill, aye?’ the taxi driver asked.

‘Aye.’

I always felt the need to exaggerate my accent when I was in the company of someone who seemed more Glaswegian than me. Prove I belonged there too. Rae used to call people ‘hen’ when we were at school. I’d never been able to pull ‘hen’ off. I can’t remember when she stopped but I hadn’t heard her use the phrase for years.

The driver pulled over and I tapped my card on the machine. He was in the middle of a monologue about the Tories and bloody Brexit as I leapt out of the car, closing the door firmly behind me. If there was one thing I knew about taxi drivers, it was how much they hated slack-door-closers. I wasn’t about to be caught out. Not a chance, hen.

I smoothed my blond hair down and buttoned up my mint-green coat. My trusty black heels moulded around my feet. I hadn’t worn them in months but they’d welcomed me back like I’d never left them. The heels were slightly too high, perhaps, for a funeral, but I’d had so many good nights wearing these shoes.

With Rae, of course.

All the best nights out had been with Rae.

The church sat at the top of a hill, beside the school where I’d met Rae in primary three, when she’d started as the new girl. She’d marched straight up to me and introduced herself, demanding that I assume the role of her best friend. I was impressed with her ballsy attitude. If we hadn’t declared each other best friends that day, we would probably have become arch enemies. Instead, we’d admired each other’s balls.

I felt my cheeks flush and my skin prickle as I strode up the hill towards the church. We’d made our First Communion in the same chapel. I’d gazed enviously at Rae’s dazzling full-length dress, while my plain number grazed apologetically at my ankles. Rae’s whole family turned up en masse, eclipsing all other families. Dad and I didn’t have that problem of course. Party for two, as usual.

The whole Mass thing always freaked me out. Rae had always been on hand to whisper instructions in my ear about the whole ‘sign of the peace be with you’ bits during school Mass. Everyone would be too caught up in their own thoughts today to care about whether I was doing it all properly. I knew that. But I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that they’d all be looking at me.

It was my fault, after all. Rae was driving to Glasgow to meet me. We planned to put our gins in the air like we just didn’t care. She was meant to come the following weekend, but I’d begged her to make it earlier. I felt like I hadn’t seen her in forever.

She didn’t stand a chance when the lorry smashed into the side of her black Mini as they both turned into a dual carriageway. Apparently she would have died instantly. The police said that as though it made the whole thing better somehow.

And now I’d never see her again.

I smoothed down my coat. Breathe, Becca.

I picked up pace and eyed the crowds outside as I made my way inside.

A blur of faces, black clothing and big hankies passed by as I entered the church. Rae’s family loved the whole Scottish vibe, from traditional attire to necking a good whisky, so I wasn’t surprised to see many had donned their kilts, despite the warm weather. Rae always said she was a sucker for a guy in Scottish uniform.

I gasped as I caught sight of the coffin. Should that thing even be in here? I’d thought they’d be carrying it in. Surely they hadn’t just left her by herself here overnight? The flurry feeling intensified. I reminded myself to breathe as I sat down.

A tall figure in a short, black jacket and deep green kilt stood at the end of the row in front of me. I frowned, trying to work out who he was. Unless Rae had a hot cousin she hadn’t told me about, I was lost. I drew my eyes away; now was hardly the time to be eyeing up the talent.

Rae wouldn’t mind. She was going to find me a man if it killed her, after all.

The service started with a low hum of the organ. I glanced around at the church’s ornate decor, the candles in the corner and then up at the altar, avoiding the coffin at all costs. I remembered Rae telling me that the funny smoky smell at Mass was called incense. I’d thought she’d said incest. We’d giggled about that for ages.

The priest’s low voice rolled off the words he’d no doubt said a million times. I studied the back of the head in front again. His very presence and somehow familiar head were annoying. I clocked a tiny bit of dandruff on his shoulders. Just as I spotted it, he flipped his hand up to brush it away. I looked down, worried he’d somehow heard my thoughts. Or worse still, I’d said something out loud.

Everyone sat down for the first reading. He turned his head to the side, as if he was looking for someone. Then he turned right around.

We locked eyes. He managed to deliver a carefully executed nod of acknowledgement that conveyed his recognition but also sadness at the situation.

My mouth fell open. What the actual fuck was he doing here?