AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She regrets it now, of course.
As she reaches the summit, the ground levels out and Jennie gets her first glimpse of the party. It’s far grander than she’d envisaged. Huge flaming torches are staked into the ground every few metres forming a large square party space. Groundsheets, blankets and cushions are spread artfully across the grass. Two trestle tables have been joined to form a makeshift bar laden with bottles nestling in enormous buckets of ice.
The party is already in full swing, with people silhouetted in the torchlight chatting and drinking. Jennie smells the unmistakable scent of weed and hears the braying laughter of Lorraine Chester, the ringleader of the mean girls.
This is definitely a bad idea.
Joining the sixth form for the final year hadn’t been easy. Jennie had been wrenched from Solihull High School in Birmingham and inserted into White Cross Academy. There might have only been seventy-nine miles separating the two places, but from the way Lorraine Chester and her bitchy friends treated Jennie, she might as well have been an alien. They laughed at her Brummie accent, mocked her fashion sense and, when she tried to ignore their taunts and jibes, upped their bullying game and got physical.
Jennie grimaces. Why the hell would she ever want to see people like Lorraine Chester again? She’s lived here in White Cross for the past thirty years and has managed to avoid them. There’s no sense in changing that now.
As her nerve fails her, Jennie turns away.
‘Jennie? Jennie Whitmore? Is that you?’
Jennie freezes. The woman’s voice is both a blast from the past and unfamiliar. Turning back towards the party, Jennie sees Lottie Varney hurrying across the grass towards her. She looks older than when they last met, but that was years ago, and her blonde hair is poker-straight and parted in the middle, rather than permed as it was back in sixth form. She’s still petite with a ballerina’s poise, and she looks expensive in the black Dior cocktail dress and spike-heeled sandals. Jennie has no idea how she’s able to walk on grass in them, or how she’s managed to hike up the hill for that matter.
‘Hi.’
‘Oh my God, it is you!’ says Lottie, reaching Jennie and pulling her into a hug. ‘It’s been forever. I’m so glad you made it.’
Jennie feels awkward. What do you say to someone you used to be friends with but haven’t seen in nearly thirty years? There’s no rulebook for this, not given their history. ‘I just—’
‘Come and get a drink,’ says Lottie, taking Jennie’s arm and leading her into the torchlit area. ‘And then I want to know everything that’s going on with you.’
Jennie realises resistance is futile. Resolving to have one drink and then leave, she follows Lottie across to the makeshift bar. Duran Duran’s slow-tempo song transitions into Corona’s ‘The Rhythm of the Night’ dance track and Jennie feels her mood lift a little. She recognises a few people as they pass them. Johnny Mackenzie, the top scorer in the school football team, who looks greyer but as athletic as ever. Polly Bisley, the maths genius, who barely looks a day older than she did in sixth form. And the Winkleman twins, Carl and Daisy, who Jennie’s shocked to see are still wearing colour co-ordinated outfits.
‘Here we go,’ says Lottie as they reach the bar. ‘What’s your poison?’
Jennie looks at what’s on offer in the buckets of ice. There’s Smirnoff Ice, Hooper’s Hooch, pre-mixed Archers and lemonade, and several buckets overflowing with Bud Light. She hesitates. There don’t seem to be any soft drinks and she’s never been a big drinker. ‘I—’
‘Fun, aren’t they?’ says Lottie, her overzealous expression only rivalled by the whiteness of her teeth. ‘I thought it would be nice to have retro drinks, you know, like we had back in the day?’
Jennie nods. She feels dull, lethargic even, standing next to Lottie and her megawatt smile. If she’s going to survive this party, she’s going to need some help. Forcing a smile, Jennie reaches into the closest bucket and takes a bottle.
‘Smirnoff, great choice,’ says Lottie. She grabs a bottle for herself, removes the cap and then passes the bottle opener to Jennie. Lottie clinks her bottle against Jennie’s. ‘To friends reunited.’
Jennie forces another smile. ‘To friends.’
‘So tell me, what have you been up to all these years?’ says Lottie. ‘You know I married Nathan? When we met at Exeter in freshers’ week I just knew he was the one straight away. And I was so right. He’s a sweetheart and he’s doing brilliantly in his career. I mean, I know people don’t like bankers very much, but the perks are just phenomenal and the quality of life we have makes it all so worth it.’
Jennie nods along. It’s clear she’d have no hope of getting a word in even if she wanted to. Instead, she drinks the Smirnoff as quickly as she can without seeming rude. Once the bottle’s empty she’ll make her excuses and leave.
‘So, we’re out in Upper Heydon now,’ continues Lottie. ‘It’s only four miles from here, but so much easier for the school run to Stockley House. Octavia, our eldest, started there last autumn, and Anthony and Katelyn are down for places when they leave Bassington Prep. They’re supposed to take the entrance exam too, of course, but the bursar says it’s really just a formality.’
‘Sounds great,’ says Jennie, taking another swig of Smirnoff and taking a quick glance over Lottie’s shoulder to see if there’s anyone else here she recognises. She’s hoping, and yet also fearing, that Hannah might have come, that this reunion might have lured her closest friend back to White Cross. That this might be the day Jennie finds out why Hannah abandoned her all those years ago.
Lottie doesn’t seem to notice as she continues her monologue. ‘Oh, and we have ponies now. Ponies! Of course everyone does really, these days, so it’s no big thing, but Octavia is a such a keen horsewoman and her trainer tells us she has the most wonderful natural talent for it. It’s so important to encourage your kids to follow their passions, don’t you think?’
Jennie doesn’t have kids and she’s never wanted them. She’s not sure how to answer. After all, it’s not as if her own mum ever encouraged her in anything. ‘I—’
‘Oh look, there’s Elliott,’ says Lottie, waving frantically. ‘Elliott, over here!’
Jennie turns to see Elliott Naylor walking towards them from the other side of the torchlit area. She hasn’t seen him in years but aside from a few fine lines around his eyes and a smattering of grey in his otherwise black hair, he looks just as she remembers. She’s relieved he’s dressed as casually as she is, rather than in full glam mode like Lottie. His dark blue jeans, checked Superdry shirt and Converse trainers don’t look that different from what he used to wear, but his glasses are stylish black Gucci frames rather than the round John Lennons he wore at school.
‘Hey,’ says Elliott. He air kisses Lottie on both cheeks and then grins at Jennie, his voice sounding as if he can’t quite believe she’s there. ‘Jennie Whitmore? Wow. It’s great to see you.’
Jennie feels her face flush. Elliott’s always had this effect on her, even though she knows he’s gay. ‘It’s good to see you too.’
