I Have No Secrets. Penny Joelson
and sees that I’m awake. I will her to tell me what happened. Sometimes Sarah seems to read my mind. That’s one of the things I love about her.
‘That wasn’t the best evening of my life,’ she whispers.
I wait eagerly for more. She sits down on the edge of the bed.
‘I can’t believe Dan turned up! That glove thing was just an excuse, don’t you think? He’s getting so serious – he said he couldn’t bear to be apart from me.’ She laughs. ‘I sat in his car with my fingers crossed that he wouldn’t think something was wrong. Then he wanted to actually come into the cinema with me, but luckily it was really hard to park so he couldn’t.’
She runs her hand through her hair. Only Sarah would get herself into this situation.
‘I was scared he might hang around so I texted Richard from the loos to say I’d be late and waited ten minutes before I even dared walk to the pub! You’ve gotta laugh, Jem.’
Sarah is not taking this seriously at all. At least it sounds like Dan didn’t catch her out.
‘When I got there,’ she continues, ‘Richard looked so pleased to see me. I just couldn’t do it to him.’
My heart sinks. Sarah is fidgeting and looks excited about something. Has she changed her mind and decided she wants to be with Richard after all?
‘Jem, he’s only gone and booked tickets for us to see Glowlight next month! It’ll be amazing!’ She gives me a sheepish look. ‘Is it really bad if I keep going out with him until then?’
Glowlight! Well, it’s not great to use him for his tickets, but it is Glowlight. Maybe I’d do the same . . . No, this is wrong. Sarah needs to break up with Richard!
‘Perhaps we could just go to the concert as friends,’ she continues. ‘But I don’t think Richard would like that. I know Dan wouldn’t.’
She sighs and smooths my duvet down.
‘I’m such a coward, Jem.’
I don’t know what I’d do if I were Sarah – though I’d like to think I wouldn’t get myself into such a mess in the first place.
When the minibus drops me back from school on Monday, Mum tells me we have visitors. She pushes my wheelchair into the kitchen, where Mr and Mrs Blake are drinking tea. Paula and Mum have known each other for years, but more to say hello in the street than as actual friends. I remember her coming to Mum a few times when Ryan was young and playing up, asking Mum for advice. I think there was a time when she even hoped Mum would foster him.
Since Ryan died Mum’s tried to be supportive, and Paula’s been round here a few times. Graeme – Mr Blake – doesn’t usually come with her, though.
Paula says hi to me and smiles, but her grief is clear in the deep lines on her face and her drooping eyes. Graeme shuffles awkwardly and taps the rim of his mug with his finger. I can tell that I make him uncomfortable. I notice he’s kept his black outdoor jacket on while Paula has taken off her coat. He’s clearly hoping not to be here long.
‘I know he was no angel,’ Paula is saying to Mum, ‘but I was so hard on him – always nagging, criticising, going on at him to change. The last thing I said to him was, “Get out and don’t come back!” Can you believe it? That’s what I said!’
She bursts into tears.
Graeme touches her shoulder and shuffles awkwardly again.
Mum hands Paula a tissue.
‘I know,’ says Mum, ‘but you could never have known what would happen. You were trying to set boundaries. He knew you loved him. He knew that’s why you kept on at him.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Paula sobs.
When we were little, Ryan used to stick his tongue out at me if he passed me in the street. Then when he got a bit older, he called me ‘Spaz’ or ‘Spazzie’ or worse things. He even spat at me once.
I don’t miss Ryan, but obviously I feel horrible for Paula. Ryan was a loser, but he was still her son – and Graeme’s.
I look at Graeme. He’s like a block of stone.
Paula sips her tea. ‘I can’t bear the thought that the monster who did it is walking around free. I might pass him in the street and never know.’
Dan’s face comes into my mind. Yes, you might, I think. He was here – he was here in this house, I want to tell Paula. A sound comes out of my mouth, a strained gurgle. Paula glances at me and quickly away again.
I wish I could tell them what he said. Just in case. I don’t know if Dan and Ryan even knew each other. They’re very different. And Dan doesn’t seem like he’d be involved with drugs and gangs and stuff. Or maybe he’s just good at hiding it. ‘We’d better be off,’ Graeme says gruffly.
Paula turns and gives him a bewildered look as if to say, ‘Off where? Off for what? What is there to be off for?’
But she pulls herself up from the chair and Graeme helps her on with her coat.
‘At least the Crimewatch thing might help,’ I hear Mum say, as she sees them out. ‘Let’s just hope someone calls in and the police get a lead.’
So Ryan’s murder is going to be on Crimewatch ! Maybe that will make everything clear. I hope Mum and Dad will let me watch it. I’ve never seen it, but I know about it – how they reconstruct crimes, and people watching can phone up if they know anything. Maybe there will be some clue that will tell me if Dan really did it – and if he did, then Sarah or Mum or Dad or someone else watching will surely realise it was him.
Sarah greets me when the minibus drops me back from school on Tuesday, with a smile even bigger than her usual cheerful one.
‘Ooh, Jem! A letter’s come from your sister!Your mum hasn’t opened it. She’s waiting for you. But I hope she’ll show me later! I’m dying to know what she’s said.’
Sarah wheels me into the kitchen, announcing ‘Jemma’s home!’ to Mum. She doesn’t go – I think she’s hoping Mum will let her stay.
‘Thanks, Sarah,’ says Mum.
Sarah shoots me a pretend annoyed look and leaves, closing the door after her.
We sit at the kitchen table and Mum carefully opens the white envelope.
My heart thuds.
‘Are you ready for this?’ Mum asks.
She puts the letter down so I can see it.
‘Dear Jemma,’ she reads. ‘I didn’t know you existed until a few months ago. I found some papers in a drawer that were about me. One of them had your name on it under mine. My name is Jodi and I am your sister! ’
Mum pauses and looks up at me, before continuing.
‘In fact, more than that, Jemma. We are twins! ’
Twins? Mum never told me that.
‘We must have been born only minutes apart,’ Mum reads. ‘The thing is – I’ve always had this weird feeling – like something was missing. When I found out about you I thought – this is it! This explains it. I have a twin sister. We spent nine months together before we were born and we’ve been separated ever since. ’
Missing? I’ve never felt that. But maybe that’s because so much else is missing for me – like legs and arms that work and a voice.
Mum is still reading.
‘Now