All About Mia

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you share a bedroom with her!’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that? What about you? You’re the one that’s been up for hours.’

  ‘She must have left before I got up. I would have heard her otherwise.’

  Which means wherever Audrey’s gone she’s got at least a two-and-a-half-hour lead on us.

  ‘Lara’s been trying to get hold of her since before nine. That’s why she ended up trying the landline,’ Grace says. ‘She couldn’t get through on Audrey’s mobile.’

  I toss the landline phone on my bed, grab my mobile off my bedside table and call Audrey’s number.

  ‘Voicemail,’ I report. ‘Should I leave a message?’

  Grace heaves herself up off the bed and plucks the phone from my hands.

  ‘Oi!’ I cry.

  ‘Audrey,’ she says into the phone, turning her back on me. ‘It’s Grace.’

  ‘And Mia!’ I shout. ‘I’m here too! In fact, it’s my bloody phone we’re calling you on!’

  Grace lowers the phone to her chest. ‘For God’s sake, Mia, will you shut up for one minute!’ She returns it to her ear. ‘Audrey, we found your note and we’re worried about you. We need to know where you are so we can come get you and bring you home. Ring me as soon as you get this message, OK?’ She hangs up.

  ‘Now what?’ I ask. ‘We sit and wait for her to ring us back with her location? Because that sounds like a foolproof plan.’

  ‘She can’t have gone far,’ Grace says, pacing up and down on the rug. ‘This is Audrey we’re talking about. She never goes anywhere by herself. She’ll probably be back by teatime.’

  Although she sounds decisive, I know Grace well enough to hear the doubt in her voice. I go over to the window and shove aside the curtains, my eyes immediately drawn to the bottom of the garden.

  ‘Don’t count on it,’ I say.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come look.’

  Grace joins me at the window. ‘What am I supposed to be looking at?’ she asks.

  I jab the glass with my finger. ‘Beyoncé’s hutch,’ I say.

  Grace’s eyes bulge. The hutch door is hanging wide open.

  ‘She’s taken Beyoncé with her,’ I say.

  Translation: Audrey means business.

  ‘How did she seem last night?’ Grace asks.

  We’re slumped on the floor, our backs against my bed frame. We’ve called everyone we can think of and not one of them has seen or heard from Audrey.

  ‘I don’t know. Normal, I guess.’

  ‘Did she say anything?’

  ‘No. She just put her pyjamas on and turned out the light.’

  ‘But she must have left some sort of clue as to where she’s gone,’ Grace says. ‘She can’t just vanish into thin air. Are you sure you have no idea?

  ‘I told you, no.’

  ‘But you’re her sister!’

  ‘So are you!’

  ‘Well, you share a room with her!’

  ‘Exactly. A room, not a brain.’

  Grace checks the time on her phone. ‘Mum and Dad don’t land for another five and a half hours,’ she says. ‘We need to find her before then.’

  ‘Oh, I see, so that’s what you’re worried about. Audrey going missing on your watch.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Grace snaps. ‘How could you say something like that?’

  ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, only half meaning it.

  We sit in silence for a few minutes.

  I take out my phone and google ‘popular destinations for teenage runaways’. Loads of stuff comes up about illegal raves and festivals and drugs. I try – and fail – to imagine Audrey at a rave. She doesn’t even like school discos very much.

  I let my eyes drift around the room. Something doesn’t look right. Something else is missing, something we haven’t noticed yet. But what?

  My gaze keeps snagging on the noticeboard that hangs over Audrey’s bed. It’s covered with cinema tickets and clippings from magazines and old birthday cards. Something about it doesn’t look right, though. There’s a big gap in the centre.

  A postcard-sized gap.

  That’s when I realize what’s missing. A postcard with ‘Greetings from Windermere’ on the front.

  I leap up. ‘I think I know where she is,’ I say.

  ‘Where?’ Grace cries.

  ‘Frankie’s of course. She’s gone to the Lake District.’

  34

  An hour later we’re sitting in a massive traffic jam on the motorway going absolutely nowhere.

  Next to me, Grace shifts in her seat, her bump pressing up against the steering wheel. Now I get why heavily pregnant women are advised not to drive if they can help it. She’s wearing her pregnancy jeans, which look like normal jeans apart from round the waistband where there’s a stretchy band of Lycra where the zip and button would normally go.

  We were in such a hurry to leave I didn’t have time to get dressed properly. Over the top of my pyjamas bottoms and my ‘It’s All About Mia’ T-shirt, I’m wearing my bright yellow raincoat, my bare feet sweating in a pair of spotty wellies I think might be Mum’s.

  I try Audrey’s mobile for about the seven-hundredth time. ‘Voicemail again,’ I report, hanging up.

  ‘I at least hope she’s on a nice warm train or bus,’ Grace says as rain pelts the car from what seems like every possible direction.

  ‘Me too,’ I murmur.

  The bad weather is making the radio crackle and we don’t have the right lead to plug in either of our phones, forcing us to sit in silence. Now we’re pretty sure we know where Audrey is headed, we have absolutely nothing to say to each other.

  The car is boiling, the windows all steamed up. I fiddle with the various knobs on the dashboard but none of them seem to do what I want them to.

  ‘Which one of these is the air con?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s broken, remember?’ Grace says. ‘You’ll have to open a window.’

  ‘But it’s pissing it down.’

  She shrugs.

  I sigh, pull up the hood of my jacket and wind down the window. Rain spatters my face and pyjama bottoms.

  ‘Can you see what’s going on?’ Grace asks after a bit.

  I take off my seatbelt and stick my head right out. It’s bumper-to-bumper and grey gloom as far as the eye can see. I take out my phone and google ‘traffic jam M1’.

  ‘There’s been a massive accident at the next junction,’ I say. ‘They’re clearing it but it sounds like it’s going to take a while.’

  Grace bites down hard on her lip.

  ‘Why? What’s wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s just that I really need the loo.’

  ‘You always need the loo.’

  ‘Mia, in case it hadn’t escaped your attention, I’m pregnant.’

  I gasp. ‘No! Really? You never talk about it.’

  Grace glares at me. ‘I have a baby pressing down on my bladder, Mia, a baby, and until you know what that feels like you have absolutely no right to make fun of me.’

  I roll my eyes towards the roof of the car. ‘Go take a pee, then. I’m not stopping you.’

  ‘Where exactly? We’re miles away from the nearest service station.’

  ‘Just go at the side of the road.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘That bloke just did,’ I say, pointing to a man zipping up his fly and jogging back towards his lorry.

  ‘I am not going to the loo on the side of the M1.’

  ‘Only trying to help.’

  We sit in silence for a bit. By now my pyjama bottoms are soaked through and sticking to my thighs.

  ‘Maybe we should play a game or something,’ Grace suggests. ‘To help keep my mind off it.’ A pause. ‘Fine,’ she says, noticing my unimpressed expression. ‘No car games.’

  There’s another long pause. I wind my window up halfway, rest my head against the glass and close my eyes.

  ‘I didn’t tell on you, Mia,’ Gr
ace says.

  ‘Huh?’ I say, twisting my head to look at her.

  ‘At the wedding. You know, when we were out on the grass and I said I was going to fetch Mum and Dad. I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I said it to scare you mainly,’ she says. ‘I hoped the idea of them finding you like that would sober you up a bit.’

  I shrug and return to looking out the window.

  ‘By the time I’d calmed down a bit they’d already found you on the dance floor, you know …’

  ‘Puking my guts up?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right.’

  My damp pyjama bottoms are starting to itch.

  ‘You called me a disgrace,’ I say.

  She winces slightly. ‘I know. I was angry. It was Mum and Dad’s special day and there you were, absolutely hammered.’

  I close my eyes again. Like I need reminding.

  ‘It’s all about Mia …’ she says.

  ‘What?’ I open my eyes. Grace is staring at the words on my T-shirt. I fold my arms round my chest.

  ‘It certainly was the other night,’ she says.

  ‘That’s the thing, though,’ I say. ‘People only seem to notice if I do something bad.’

  She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

  ‘Look, while we’re on the subject of the other night, nothing ever went on between me and Sam, OK?’ I say. ‘We’re just mates.’

  ‘I know,’ she says, sighing.

  ‘I mean, me and Sam? As if.’

  ‘There’s no need to be rude, that’s the father of my child you’re talking about.’

  ‘Keep your knickers on, I didn’t mean it like that. I just can’t believe you thought I’d actually go after him. It’d be like snogging my brother or something.’

  ‘I don’t know. After all that stuff came out about you and Paul and Aaron, I saw you rolling around on the grass and jumped to conclusions.’

  ‘We were hardly rolling around,’ I mutter. ‘Not like that anyway.’

  ‘Look, if I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t know what I thought, Mia. I feel like I just don’t know you any more. It’s like you’re a stranger sometimes.’

  ‘Well, same with you,’ I hit back. ‘It’s like having a robot for a sister.’

  Silence.

  ‘Why did he go home?’ I ask finally.

  ‘Sam? He said he needed “a break”. I can’t say I blame him. It wasn’t exactly a relaxing weekend.’

  ‘When’s he coming back?’

  ‘I don’t know. In a few days maybe.’

  There’s a grumbly roll of thunder, followed a few seconds later by a dim flash of lightning.

  ‘I still don’t quite understand what happened the other weekend,’ she says. ‘With Paul and Aaron. Why you lied.’

  ‘There’s no point even talking about it,’ I say. ‘You’ve clearly already made up your mind about what you think went on, so I’d just be wasting my breath.’

  She frowns. ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Yeah, you have. You think I’m a slut and a liar, same as Kimmie and everyone.’

  ‘No, I don’t. I would never call you either of those things.’

  ‘Maybe not in so many words.’

  You’re a total disgrace, Mia.

  ‘Please, just tell me what happened. I want to under-stand.’

  The rain is getting ridiculous now, coming down in heavy sheets. Reluctantly, I wind up the window all the way and peel off my raincoat, lying it on the back seat next to Grace’s baby book.

  ‘What did you mean when Stella asked you if you’d slept with Aaron and you said you didn’t know?’ Grace asks.

  I shrug and fiddle with the drawstring on my hood, threading it through my fingers.

  ‘Was it your first time?’

  I don’t answer her.

  ‘Oh, Mia. Why didn’t you just say so?’

  ‘How could I? They all thought I did it ages ago. With Jordan.’

  I didn’t even have to lie about doing it with him. Not really. Everyone assumed we were doing it from the start. I just didn’t bother correcting them. Jordan said he didn’t mind that I wanted to wait. He even said it was ‘classy’. At least, he did at first.

  ‘It’s OK to be a virgin, you know that, don’t you, Mia?’ Grace says.

  ‘Of course I do,’ I snap.

  I don’t even know if I am one any more, whether what happened in Aaron’s bedroom actually counts as sex or not. So far Google hasn’t given me a firm answer either way.

  ‘And Paul?’ she asks.

  ‘I told you, nothing happened. Nothing like that.’

  She nods. ‘I’m sorry I got you into trouble with your friends,’ she says. ‘But I had to say something, don’t you see? Paul is more than twice your age. Imagine if you were in my position and it was Audrey you’d just overheard having that conversation.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the same. Audrey’s thirteen.’

  ‘She’s still your little sister though, and she’ll never stop being your little sister, no matter what age she is. Just like you’ll never stop being mine.’

  There’s a pause. I glance at the satnav. We’ll be lucky to reach Frankie’s place before dark the way we’re going.

  ‘Have you heard from Kimmie or anyone?’ Grace asks, rubbing her lower back.

  ‘Hey, why don’t you push your seat back?’ I suggest. ‘We’re not going anywhere for a while.’

  She nods, unclipping her belt and adjusting her seat, leaning it right back. I do the same so we’re both reclining as far as we can go, almost horizontal.

  ‘So, have you?’ she asks, resting her hands neatly on her bump. ‘Heard from any of them?’

  ‘Like you actually care.’

  ‘Of course I care. They’re your best friends.’

  ‘Not any more. You saw the way they looked at me the other night. They hate me.’

  ‘It’ll blow over.’

  I shake my head. I’ve never seen them that angry before, especially Kimmie. And Kimmie just doesn’t get angry normally. It’s not in her DNA.

  ‘Why did you go home with that Aaron boy?’ Grace asks. ‘If it’s true what you said about not even liking him that much.’

  ‘It’s none of your business.’

  ‘Please, Mia. Just talk to me. You used to all the time.’

  ‘I know. That was before.’

  ‘Before what?’

  Before everyone realized how amazing you are and started comparing us all the time. Before I worked out we were different. There’s a weird lump in my throat. I swallow hard but it doesn’t go away.

  ‘I don’t know, it’s just hard being your sister sometimes,’ I say eventually. My voice sounds weird, sort of quivery.

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Grace, you got the best GCSE and A-level results in Queen Mary’s history. You were the star of the netball team, the best singer in the choir. You’re going to one of the best universities in the entire world. God, everyone worships the ground you walk on,’ I say, the words pouring messily out of my mouth. ‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to try and live up to that?’ I add.

  She doesn’t say anything.

  ‘Exactly. And to make matters worse, Mum and Dad prove it’s not a fluke by then having Audrey. And I’m just left in the middle, looking like a complete disaster whatever I do.’ I realize I’m out of breath and that my heart is thumping.

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘How would you know? Your life is perfect.’

  Her face softens. ‘Is that what you think, Mia? That my life is perfect?’

  ‘Of course,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy, but my life is far from perfect, Mia, believe me. It’s tiring and frustrating and stressful sometimes.’

  ‘Well, it’s not from where I’m standing,’ I say, my voice cracking.

  ‘It’s not like everything gets handed to me on a plate, Mia. I worked my arse off for those grades. A
nd everything else.’

  I bite my lip, remembering all those times I got up to go to the loo in the middle of the night and saw a strip of light under Grace’s door as she revised into the early hours of the morning.

  ‘You were clever to start with, though,’ I say.

  It’s a well-known family fact that Grace could write her full name at the age of two, that she’s always been naturally bright.

  ‘I know that,’ she says. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t have to put the work in, though. I don’t just turn up to the exam and magically know all the answers.’

  ‘So, I’m lazy, is that it?’

  ‘That’s not what I said. I just think maybe you haven’t worked out what your thing is yet.’

  Not this again. Why can’t people accept that maybe not everyone has a thing?

  ‘I meant what I said just now,’ she continues. ‘About my life not being perfect.’

  ‘Then why don’t you show it once in a while?’ I ask.

  ‘It’s not that easy. I have all these expectations on me.’

  ‘Boo hoo.’

  She glares at me. ‘I’m trying to be honest with you, Mia.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, peeling my damp pyjama bottoms away from my legs and trying to squeeze out some of the moisture.

  ‘When you have a reputation for never making mistakes, it becomes very hard to know how to behave when you do.’

  I look across at her. ‘Are you talking about the baby?’

  She looks guilty, placing her palms on the bump as if covering the baby’s ears.

  ‘But I thought you had it all figured out from the beginning,’ I say. ‘That’s what you told Mum and Dad.’

  She hesitates. ‘We may have given them a slightly edited version of events. Put very simply, I went to pieces. After doing the test I cried for about three hours straight. I felt like my life was over. I knew I wanted kids someday, but I imagined having them in my late twenties at the very earliest, not now. I was just so angry. We’d been careful, we didn’t deserve to get caught out.’

  ‘Did you think about getting rid of it?’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, not even missing a beat; not what I was expecting. ‘We talked about it a lot.’

  ‘So why didn’t you?’

  Another guilty glance down at her bump. ‘One night I woke up with blood on my knickers and I completely freaked out. The idea I might lose the baby was horrible. We went to the doctor and she checked me out and reassured me everything was OK and that a bit of spotting was normal, and as we left the hospital, we both just knew; we definitely wanted to keep it.’ She sighs again. ‘Look, I know we turned up in Rushton acting all calm and collected, but that’s because we kind of were by that point. We’d done all our crying and freaking out and arguing back in Greece. Plus, I guess I wanted to prove I had everything under control. I didn’t want Mum and Dad to worry.’