“Rupert’s agreed to give us a lift to the hospital, Rich."

   Richard nodded at Emma’s nineteen-year-old brother.  He had never, in all honesty, hit it off with Rupert, but could cheerfully have kissed the moody git, at that moment – although, in the end, he opted for a simple, “Cheers, mate,” instead.

   Emma sat in the front passenger seat, with Richard directly behind her, amongst the fag packets and Mars Bar wrappers that littered the back seat of Rupert’s Corsa.  The three young people spent most of the journey in silence.  Emma was clearly agitated, but Richard felt nothing: empty, numb.

   “Have you managed to get hold of your brother yet, Rich?” asked Emma, as they turned a corner, and the vast grey hospital building came into view.

   “Not yet.  I’ve tried all his mates from work, and even spoken to Sam.  I left a message for Dad at the nuthouse, and even left a voicemail for Mum – for all the good that will do.”

   Emma hesitated for a moment.  “How about Tara?” she suggested, at length.  “The girl on Julie’s college course.”

   “You knew about her?”

   “Tracey told me.”

   “Tracey?  How the Hell did she…?” 

   “Donna told her.”

   “And how did Donna…?  No, on second thoughts, let’s not go there.  Drop us off here, Rupert, mate.”

   Steve was there already.  That was the first shock.  There he was, by Julie’s bedside, holding her hand, as though he never wanted to let go.

   As though he actually gave a damn about her.

   And the strangest part was: Richard knew that his brother did care deeply about this pale, frail young woman, who still bore a passing resemblance to the self-assured, beautiful girl, who had become an unhealthy obsession with Richard. 

   Julie's mum sat next to Steve, looking dignified, even in her state of obvious distress.  Julie's dad wasn't there - probably too busy working, as per usual.

   Rich stared at Julie - the object of his unrequited passion.  There was an ugly purple bruise on her left cheek.  Rich could taste the bile in the back of his throat.  For an awful moment, he thought that he was going to puke.

   He turned on his brother instead: “I’ve been trying to get hold of you.”

   “I know.  I got your message, and came straight here.”

   A phone call back might have been nice, but Richard couldn’t be arsed to mention the fact.  What was the point?

   Besides which, he was more concerned about Julie, at that moment.  “You okay, Jules?” 

   Julie nodded. 

   Of course, it was a stupid bloody question.  Of course she wasn’t “okay”.  Did she look “okay”?

   “No thanks to those bastards,” said Steve.  “If I ever get my hands on them…”

   “Maybe you should concentrate on looking after your girlfriend,” suggested Richard.

   The tension around that hospital bed was tangible.  The accusation hung in the air, mingling with the aromatic blend of disinfectant and vomit: If you had been looking after Julie properly in the first place, this would never have happened.

   “I’m really glad you’re okay, Julie,” said Emma.  She glanced at her watch.  “I’ll have to go.  I texted Bryony before we left, and said I’d wait for her in reception."

   It had confused Richard that Bryony wasn't there already.  He had thought that her phone call had been made from the hospital, but evidently not. 

   But at least she was on her way now.

   “I’ll come with you, if that’s okay,” said Richard.  “Give Julie and Steve some space.”

   “Yeah, fine – if you’re sure…”

   Richard was sure.  “Take care, Jules.  See you soon.  See ya, Steve.”

   “Bry – over here!”

   “Rich - hi.  Have you seen Emma?”

   “She’s popped to the loo.  She’ll be back in a minute.”

   “Oh, right.”  She fiddled with the sterling silver crucifix, which she almost always wore, apart from at school, where all jewellery, apart from studs – one in each ear, earlobes only – was outlawed.  

   “Your sister’s going to be okay,” he said.

   “Oh, I expect so.”

   “You are pleased, aren’t you?”

   “I’m relieved.  As always.”

   “As always?  What do you mean?”

   “Emma, finally!  Rich and I were beginning to think you’d drowned or something.”

   Emma walked straight to where her friend stood, and the two girls hugged and cried, and generally did all the things that made Richard long to be virtually anywhere, other than where he was.  

   “She’s going to be fine, you know,” Emma reassured Bryony, stroking her hair as if she were either a two-year-old, or one of the Clarks’ pet dogs.

   Bryony nodded.

   “Listen, Bry, I told Rupert I’d ring and let him know when I wanted a lift home.  Do you think you’d be okay, if I headed off soon?  Richard will make sure you’re okay, won’t you, Rich?”

   Richard was beginning to thoroughly dislike Emma Clark.

   “We’ll go and see Julie now, yeah?” suggested Rich.  He was no good at this sort of thing – never had been.

   “Actually, Rich, do you mind if we don’t?”

   Richard was puzzled.  “What do you mean?  You don’t want to see your sister?”

   “No – I mean, yes.  Yes, I do want to see her.  It’s just – well, can we go for a coffee or something first?” She nodded in the direction of the little refreshment area.

   “Sure,” said Richard, “if you like.”

   After all, it wasn’t as if Richard was in a tearing hurry to see Bryony’s sister again himself.

   Bryony gratefully sipped her milky coffee.  At not quite fourteen, she was already addicted to caffeine.  But, in the scheme of things, and remembering her sister, at the same age…

   Richard had already finished the chocolate milkshake that he had chosen instead of tea or coffee.  That’s to say, he had drunk what was left after he had spilt at least a quarter of it on that table, with half of what remained ending up smeared all over his face, two-year-old style.  Looking at him now, Bry felt an urge to wipe it off, but she wasn’t his mother, was she?  And he wasn’t a kid of two, even if he was messy enough to pass for one.

   “I’m sorry about – you know – my brother,” he said.

   “What about him?  He’s here, isn’t he?”

   “Yeah, he’s here – I’ll give him that.  But I mean, you know…”

   “The other girls?”

   Richard nodded.  “Can’t have helped, can it?”

   Bryony shrugged.  “I don’t suppose it did, no – but you can’t blame all this on your brother, Richard.  He thinks the world of Julie, and she hasn’t exactly been the world’s best girlfriend.  It’s not that easy to have a relationship with someone who’s paralytic half the time.  She has to take some responsibility for the situations she gets herself into.”  She took a deep breath.  She felt light-headed – slightly shaky.  She drank some more of her coffee, which served to steady her nerves a little.  “Can we talk about something else, please?”

   Richard nodded, looking bemused.  “Sure – no problem.”  He hesitated.  “What do you want to talk about?”

   Bryony had to smile.  “I don’t mind really, as long as it isn’t Julie or Steve.”

   “R-right.”  He seemed to be looking around the place for inspiration.  Finally, he asked her: “What are you doing for your birthday?  It’s next month, isn’t it?”

   Bryony was impressed.  He’d actually remembered – but maybe that was because it was so close to Julie’s.  And quite close to Charlotte’s too, actually.  So he’d remembered the batch of birthdays, rather than her own in particular.

   “Actually, I’m not sure.  My mum actually said that I could have a party this year, but the last one I had was when I was seven, and that was all sausage rolls and pass-the-parcel.”

   “And musical chairs, right?  You mustn’t forget the musical chairs.”

   Bryony grinned.  “Yeah, that’s right – how did you know?  Was that what your parties were like, too?”

   “My parties?  I don't really remember many.  We tended to have 'treats' instead of parties, and most of those were more for Steve than me, like trips to Highbury with Dad.  Mum was too busy partying herself, to bother with silly kids’ parties for us.  I suppose my first-hand knowledge of kids’ parties comes more from the ones I went to – mainly John’s, Emma’s and Charlotte’s.”

   Bryony became conscious that she was playing with her necklace again.  “It’s funny how, even though we’ve all been to the same school since we were eleven, there are still lots of things that remind me that you’ve all been friends with each other for longer.”

   Richard laughed.  “You didn’t miss much – apart from Emma pooing herself in assembly when we were about eight, which was well funny.”

   “She never did!  You’re making that up!”

   “No, I’m not.  She wouldn’t be likely to tell you about it, would she?”

   Bryony considered this for a moment.  “No, I don’t suppose she would.  God, how awful.  The other kids must have made her life Hell.”

   “Yeah, they did.  Well, we did, really.  All of us.  Especially John, although I reckon he secretly fancied her, even then.”

   “Sounds like he had a funny way of showing it.  Not much change there,” remarked Bryony.

   Richard shuffled around a bit in his seat, clearly unsure whether to let the criticism of his best mate go.

   “I’m sorry,” said Bryony.

   “That’s okay.  Don’t worry about it.  John was out of order.  So, are you going to have this party or not?  I’m sure your mum won’t expect you to play musical chair this time.”

   “I wouldn’t be so sure.  Just because I’m not out every night, getting drunk, like Jules was at my age, she tends to assume that I’m still a kid.  I suppose she wants to believe that – doesn’t want me going the same way – but it gets really frustrating sometimes.  As if it’s exactly mature to act like my sister.”

   “Julie’s not that bad, is she?  I’ve never heard you talk like this about her before.”

   “Would you have wanted to hear it?”

   “I’m not sure I do now.”

   “Exactly.  Anyway, I did say I didn’t want to talk about Julie.  And then I brought her into the conversation myself.  I will think about the party thing.”

   “I’ll be on your guest list, I take it?”

   Bryony held his gaze.  “If this party goes ahead, I’ll put your name at the top of the list.”

   “And I’ll get a proper invitation?  In writing?”

   He had to be taking the piss.  “I’ll buy some from Woolies or Smith’s,” she assured him, playing along.

   “Oh, Smith’s, definitely.  Woolies is the cheap skate’s option, Bry.  Get them from Smith’s, even if you have to nick them.”

   “You’re crazy, Rich!”

   “That has been said before.”  Richard hesitated.  “Will Charlotte be on your guest list?”

   A sense of acute, and probably disproportionate, disappointment descended.  Bryony felt dizzy – slightly nauseous.  “Why did you have to bring her into this?”

   Richard looked confused, as if he couldn’t comprehend her reaction.  Well, he probably couldn’t, could he?

   “I’m sorry,” he said, after a painfully protracted silence.  "I didn’t mean to upset you.  We’ll go in now, yeah?  See your sister?”

   Bryony nodded.  “Okay,” she practically whispered, realising that she had barely touched her coffee – but since it was barely lukewarm now anyway, the drink no longer provided Bryony with much of an excuse.