Better Left Buried by Emma Haughton Page B

me, her expression a mask of forced composure.
    â€œWhat guy?”
    â€œ Over there! ” I point out the window.
    But he’s gone. Vanished. Almost as if I imagined him. I scan the length of the street, but there’s no sign of him. What on earth…?
    I turn back to Lizzie. “For god’s sake, you must have seen him. You were looking right at him!”
    Lizzie gives a nervous laugh and shakes her head. “I didn’t see anyone unusual.”
    I gaze at her, astonished. “So what were you staring at?”
    Her cheeks redden. “Nothing. I just remembered something, that’s all.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’ve got to go.” Lizzie reaches under the table for her bag.
    I take a deep breath, then lean over and grab her arm. “Lizzie, don’t leave. You said you were going to tell me something.”
    Lizzie pauses and looks at me. Sort of. Her eyes keep sliding away from mine. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”
    â€œWhat do you mean ‘nothing’?” I give her arm a shake. “Why are you running away? Why are you being so…so weird?”
    My friend seems immobilized. She sits there, staring down at her empty plate.
    â€œLizzie, please…this is doing my head in. I…I don’t know what to…”
    I’m close to crying. Again. I take another deep breath. “Dad’s gone away and Mum is still in pieces and I’m starting to wonder if she’s ever going to get better. And now this strange guy I keep seeing all the time…”
    I glance outside, afraid he’ll be there again, but there’s no trace of him. “I’m scared,” I say. “I’m so behind on my music and the audition’s in a few weeks and…and I feel I can’t talk to you any more. It’s as if this huge gulf has opened up between us and I’ve no idea why.” The words tumble out and I have to bite them off before I start sobbing in earnest.
    Lizzie still doesn’t speak, keeping her gaze fixed on the table.
    â€œWhat’s happening, Lizzie?” I can’t keep the desperation out of my voice. “You’ve been so off with me recently. With everyone. What’s the matter? ”
    She looks up finally and I see all the pain in her eyes. I can tell she’s fighting tears too. She opens her mouth as if about to say something, then glances back out the window.
    â€œI’m sorry, Sarah, I’ve got to go. There’s something I have to do and I can’t put it off any longer.”
    She gets up, pulling on the cardigan she left draped across the back of the chair.
    â€œI’ll come with you then…” I jump up and grab my bag.
    â€œNo need,” she says abruptly, already making for the door. She turns before letting it close, her face stricken with something I can’t even begin to fathom.
    â€œI’ll call you.” She wavers for a moment. “I’m sorry.”
    I reach for my jacket, determined to follow. Lizzie can’t just leave like this. What the hell is going on? But at that second my phone rings. I pull it out my pocket and glance at the screen.
    Mum.
    I hesitate, almost let it go to voicemail. Then relent and take the call. Her voice is hysterical. Her words punctuated by huge staccato sobs.
    â€œOh god…Sarah…come home quickly. It’s ruined. All of it… Everything.”

10
monday 15th august
    By the time I arrive the police are already there, a yellow-and-blue chequered car parked right outside our house. One of our neighbours hovering by his window, hardly bothering to hide his curiosity.
    I almost sprint inside, expecting to find Mum in pieces. But she’s sitting on the sofa in the living room talking to a policewoman with short red hair, looking calmer than she sounded on the phone. Stunned, rather than in the first grip of panic.
    It’s my turn to freak out. My mouth drops as I