Page 45 of The Other Twin
‘Yeah, first Australia and New Zealand, and then maybe Thailand and Vietnam, I haven’t quite figured it out yet.’
She fixes me with a suspicious look. ‘Was this Zac’s idea?’
Typical that she’s crediting Zac, as if I’m incapable of independent thought.
‘No. I’m not going with Zac.’
‘You’re not?’ She shakes her head like she’s got water in her ears.
‘No.’
‘So, who are you going with?’
‘I’m going by myself.’
‘You’re going to the other side of the world on your own?’ Mum’s voice is weirdly soft, but she clasps her fingers together until they whiten at the knuckles.
‘Why not?’ I say, forcing a smile. ‘You always said you wished you’d seen the world. I thought you’d be excited for me. At least you get your living room back. And the sofa.’
She gives me a long, assessing look, like she’s trying to see if I’m screwing with her. But her eyes are red and tired, and she just can’t carry off the hard stare anymore. ‘Jade, love. You’ve never been further than the Costa Brava. And even there you didn’t like the food and couldn’t handle the heat.’
‘That was ages ago,’ I protest. ‘And you can get burgers and chips anywhere these days. Also, my taste buds have evolved. I’m basically a citizen of the world now.’ I try to laugh, but it comes out almost like a hiccup. She’s still watching me, not buying it fora second. I look away at the greasy window with condensation trickling down the inside.
There’s a beat of silence between us, just the hum of the fridge and the sound of my own pulse in my ears. Neither of us moves. ‘It’ll be good for me,’ I add finally. ‘I’m stuck in a rut here.’
She sighs. ‘I’m not disagreeing with that, but the world’s a mess these days. Look at the news – there’s war and disease and all these awful things happening. It’s not safe, a young woman off on her own. There are weirdos everywhere.’
‘There are weirdos in Southampton too,’ I say. ‘You can’t live your whole life being scared of what might happen. And I’ll meet other travellers along the way, people like me.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about. You won’t know who they are, what they might have done. What they’re capable of doing.’
And vice versa, I think to myself.
A twinge of guilt plucks at my chest. Even though Mum annoys the hell out of me, I don’t like thinking of her all alone, worrying. But if I’m going to become Bella, then I need a plausible explanation for why I’m no longer around. I blink, not quite feeling real. I can’t quite believe that Mum will never hear from me again – that we’ll never have another conversation. But I can’t let myself get emotional. Not now. It’s too late for that luxury. I have to do what’s best. Things have gone too far for me to change my mind.
‘What does Zac think about you going off without him?’ Mum asks.
I feel a little ache in my chest when I think back to last week. To his expression when I called things off with him. He looked so forlorn. Granted, it was mean breaking up with him two days before Christmas, but I genuinely didn’t think he’d be that upset. To be honest, I never treated him that well. I was actually a bit of a bitch. I thought he’d be relieved to be shot of me. His mum will definitely be celebrating – Happy Christmas, Mrs Hughes.
‘Zac and I broke up, Mum.’
‘Oh.’ She suddenly looks older than her fifty-four years. Her skin is sagging slightly, and there are smokers’ lines around her mouth. Which reminds me, I’ll have to ditch the ciggies once I’m Bella. That’s going to be hard – even the thought of nicotine has me gasping for a drag.
‘We’d been drifting apart anyway,’ I add.
Mum nods. ‘Are we eating this cottage pie, or what? Although, tell you the truth, after your news, I’m not feeling too hungry right now.’
‘I’ll dish up.’ I push down a flare of guilt, ease myself off the sofa, and walk past Mum towards the kitchenette.
As I pass, she takes hold of my hand. ‘I’d have loved to go travelling when I was your age,’ she says quietly.
I pause, taken aback by her confession. ‘So why don’t you? Go and see the world.’
‘Oh, you make it sound so easy.’ Mum rolls her eyes. ‘But it’s not that simple at my age. Bills, work...’
‘It is that easy!’ I reply, keen to deflect the conversation away from my leaving. ‘You could rent this place out. Use the money to travel.’
She sniffs, then wipes at her nose with the sleeve of her jumper. Avoiding my suggestion, she asks, ‘When are you off, then?’
