Page 79 of Plot Twist

‘Becca, are you there?’ Drew repeated. ‘Can we talk?’

‘What exactly do you think we’re doing right now?’

He sighed.

I clutched onto the phone, waiting for his next move.

‘It’s about Rae,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

My heart. My Rae.

‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ I spat. ‘I don’t have all day, Drew.’

I did have all day, though. As I walked along the cobbled streets of Rathcliffe, the ones that contrasted so drastically to my own hometown, I realised I literally had not one thing planned that day. All day. Not only was I alone, I was lonely. The realisation stung in my chest.

‘We got a box of Rae’s things from the police after the accident,’ he said. ‘And there was something in the pocket of her leather jacket for you. I just found it.’

I stopped dead in the middle of the street.

I should have gone to the doctor’s, like Dad had suggested. I should have asked for the anti-depressants, or anti-anxiety, or anti-whatever-the-fuck-it-was that was going to stop my heart from thudding this hard in my chest and bring back the breath that suddenly escaped me.

I found my voice but it was a lot quieter than the usual bold tone I adopted when speaking to Drew. He’d finally knocked the wind out of me altogether.

‘What does it say?’ I whispered.

‘I’ve not opened it, Becca. It’s addressed to you. I presume she was planning to give you it when she met up with you that evening. You know. . . before she died.’

I desperately wanted to tear the letter open right now and devour her thoughts and feelings, the curly loops of her Ls and the line across her number sevens. Her terrible grammar. Her LOLs and her FMLs.

Oh, my Rae.

I wanted to grab the letter out of Drew’s grubby stupid hands and run off with it so he could never lay claim to her again. She wasn’t his. She couldn’t be.

I weighed up what to tell Drew to do with the letter. I could ask him to send it to Bridget and Ellie’s house in Rathcliffe. Not Bellinder Cottage. I wasn’t going to stay there. Or I could tell him to hang onto it. I was going home anyway, wasn’t I?

‘Can you send it to me over here?’ I found myself saying.

I hated asking him anything, like he was doing me some sort of favour. But for all I knew, he could be a real bastard and put it in a fire or something.

Then I’d never know what she had wanted to say to me that day. How she planned to tell me she’d decided to marry the love of my life. Or the former love of my life. Whatever.

‘I can,’ he said. ‘Give me the address.’

‘Can you send it next-day delivery?’ I asked. ‘Is that even a thing for letters? Or first-class post? Who the fuck even sends letters any more?’

‘No one,’ he said. ‘Text me your address and I’ll send it on.’

‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it now. Bye, Drew.’

‘You’re welcome, Becca.’

‘I didn’t thank you.’

‘I know. You should though. Do you know how fucking hard this is? All I have left is a pile of her clothes, Becca.’ His voice broke. ‘Her leather jacket and a locket. The engagement ring I bought her is in my drawer. She never even got to see it in real life.’

The anger bubbled inside me. I wasn’t willing to play this game. I wasn’t buying a ticket to Drew’s pity party. He had Linda and Jim and Adam and everyone else all clearly eating out of the palm of his hand.

‘Goodbye, Drew.’