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Authors: Paige Toon
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I was still reading Eliza’s diary and only switched off my light a little while ago, peeking out of the window when I heard Angus’s car pull up. It wasn’t spying, I was just
curious to see what he was up to, but now I’m more confused than ever.
What the hell were he and Eliza arguing about? The way he tried to embrace her... The way she pushed him away... It seemed so intense – almost intimate. I’ve never seen them act like
that around each other before.
I listen as Eliza’s footsteps reach the top of the stairs. She walks along the landing and pauses outside our bedrooms. I grab her diary and shove it under the duvet, then freeze at the
sound of gentle knocking on my door. I close my eyes and pretend to breathe deeply as the door opens. A moment later it shuts and I hear her go into her room.
My eyes fly open. That was not an encounter between platonic friends. There’s something going on between those two. They have history. What sort of history? What the
hell
?
Eliza!
What did you
do
?
My conscience pricks me as the memory of my own betrayal comes back to me. New Year’s Eve, almost a decade ago...
I’d gone to Darryl White’s party on my own because Eliza was ill. I knew Angus was going to be there and I wanted to see him. He’d seemed down for a couple of days and it had
been a while since we’d caught up properly. But then he spotted me and smiled and he was so drunk and... and... Oh God.
Phoebe had returned to France the day before so I thought –
hoped
– that he knew what he was doing when he started to kiss me, but he was so out of it, he’d obviously
forgotten she’d left. Not only did I return his kiss passionately, but I let him feel me up. My face burns at the memory. I nearly died when he turned on the cloakroom light and realised his
mistake.
I groan and slide further under the bed covers, pulling my duvet over my face. It’s ridiculous that this still bothers me.
Angus and I never talked about what happened, although I think he tried. He called for me the morning after, but I was horrified. Eliza had been ill the night before so I pretended I’d
caught her tummy bug and managed to escape to university without facing him. Even though I heard from Phoebe –
very
belatedly in a letter – that she and Angus had broken up
before we’d kissed, I still felt disgusted with myself. In his drunken state, he must’ve thought Phoebe had changed her mind and come back to him.
I couldn’t bear to face him at Easter either, so I jumped at the chance when Aunt Suzie offered to have us to stay in Somerset. The next time I saw Angus was in the summer holidays, well
over six months after our encounter. He was warm and friendly and seemed genuinely happy to see me. Eventually, my blushes came under control and I realised he was cool to let it go – we
never had to speak of it again. Thankfully we’ve been buddies ever since.
Oh, but his kisses... I shiver and do what I really shouldn’t, which is remember the good bits. I’ve never had anyone kiss me like that, before or since. He was divine.
Mum rouses me from a deep sleep at ten forty-five the next day.
‘Rose! Are you ill?’ she exclaims, whipping back the curtains. I groan and bury my face in the pillow, but she’s pulling me out again a moment later and checking my vital
signs.
‘Mum!’ I squawk, batting her away. ‘I’m fine! I’m just tired.’ Too damn right I’m tired. I struggled to get to sleep last night after all that. Needless
to say, my urge to hug Eliza has flown right out the window and is probably migrating to Africa.
‘Are you sure you’re my Rose?’ Mum asks, sitting beside me on the bed and peering at me with amused blue eyes. We inherited our green eyes from Dad, but the rest of us is all
Mum: similar height, similar build, and we did have a similar hair colour, before hers turned grey. Now she dyes it dark blonde and wears it in a bob. ‘Did you and Eliza swap beds in the
I was still reading Eliza’s diary and only switched off my light a little while ago, peeking out of the window when I heard Angus’s car pull up. It wasn’t spying, I was just
curious to see what he was up to, but now I’m more confused than ever.
What the hell were he and Eliza arguing about? The way he tried to embrace her... The way she pushed him away... It seemed so intense – almost intimate. I’ve never seen them act like
that around each other before.
I listen as Eliza’s footsteps reach the top of the stairs. She walks along the landing and pauses outside our bedrooms. I grab her diary and shove it under the duvet, then freeze at the
sound of gentle knocking on my door. I close my eyes and pretend to breathe deeply as the door opens. A moment later it shuts and I hear her go into her room.
My eyes fly open. That was not an encounter between platonic friends. There’s something going on between those two. They have history. What sort of history? What the
hell
?
Eliza!
What did you
do
?
My conscience pricks me as the memory of my own betrayal comes back to me. New Year’s Eve, almost a decade ago...
I’d gone to Darryl White’s party on my own because Eliza was ill. I knew Angus was going to be there and I wanted to see him. He’d seemed down for a couple of days and it had
been a while since we’d caught up properly. But then he spotted me and smiled and he was so drunk and... and... Oh God.
Phoebe had returned to France the day before so I thought –
hoped
– that he knew what he was doing when he started to kiss me, but he was so out of it, he’d obviously
forgotten she’d left. Not only did I return his kiss passionately, but I let him feel me up. My face burns at the memory. I nearly died when he turned on the cloakroom light and realised his
mistake.
I groan and slide further under the bed covers, pulling my duvet over my face. It’s ridiculous that this still bothers me.
Angus and I never talked about what happened, although I think he tried. He called for me the morning after, but I was horrified. Eliza had been ill the night before so I pretended I’d
caught her tummy bug and managed to escape to university without facing him. Even though I heard from Phoebe –
very
belatedly in a letter – that she and Angus had broken up
before we’d kissed, I still felt disgusted with myself. In his drunken state, he must’ve thought Phoebe had changed her mind and come back to him.
I couldn’t bear to face him at Easter either, so I jumped at the chance when Aunt Suzie offered to have us to stay in Somerset. The next time I saw Angus was in the summer holidays, well
over six months after our encounter. He was warm and friendly and seemed genuinely happy to see me. Eventually, my blushes came under control and I realised he was cool to let it go – we
never had to speak of it again. Thankfully we’ve been buddies ever since.
Oh, but his kisses... I shiver and do what I really shouldn’t, which is remember the good bits. I’ve never had anyone kiss me like that, before or since. He was divine.
Mum rouses me from a deep sleep at ten forty-five the next day.
‘Rose! Are you ill?’ she exclaims, whipping back the curtains. I groan and bury my face in the pillow, but she’s pulling me out again a moment later and checking my vital
signs.
‘Mum!’ I squawk, batting her away. ‘I’m fine! I’m just tired.’ Too damn right I’m tired. I struggled to get to sleep last night after all that. Needless
to say, my urge to hug Eliza has flown right out the window and is probably migrating to Africa.
‘Are you sure you’re my Rose?’ Mum asks, sitting beside me on the bed and peering at me with amused blue eyes. We inherited our green eyes from Dad, but the rest of us is all
Mum: similar height, similar build, and we did have a similar hair colour, before hers turned grey. Now she dyes it dark blonde and wears it in a bob. ‘Did you and Eliza swap beds in the
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