fic: Homecoming (Sophie / Sian)
Title: Homecoming
Author: noclueontheloo
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Coronation Street, Sophie/Sian
Word Count: 3885
Summary: And they’ve pulled me in so tight that I can feel Sian’s fingers just slipping out of my hand and there’s nothing I can do about it but just stand there and let them all squeeze the life out of me.
We’d spoke to Rosie only that morning, so she knew ahead of time. But we still didn’t say where we were, where we’d been. Sian wouldn’t have let me anyhow, knowin’ they'd all be round the minute we said, collectin’ us like we needed savin’ or summit. Which we kinda did I s'pose, but that weren’t the point.
And as we’re walkin’ back up the street I take her hand cos I can tell by the way she’s lickin’ her lips and lookin’ about that she’s full on terrified of the reaction.
“Come on,” I tell her, “We’ll do mine first, yeah?”
She sort of nods a bit and does a sweep of the road to see if anyone’s about, any of the curtains twitching yet, but so far we’re in luck.
So’s I goes to ring the bell, cos somehow it feels wrong to just use my key after all this time - and besides, I’m not even sure myself if this is my home anymore after all that’s gone on.
My finger’s barely left the buzzer before the door's swept open.
And they’ve pulled me in so tight that I can feel Sian’s fingers just slipping out of my hand and there’s nothing I can do about it but just stand there and let them all squeeze the life out of me.
But I can like, feel her, behind me, shifting nervously, waiting to see if they’re gonna turn on her again or accept her or what.
And my dad’s looking at us with tears in his eyes, actual proper tears coming out down his cheeks and it’s too much cos he’s my dad and he’s not supposed to cry and certainly not over me.
And they keep on saying the same things over and over, all these questions, all these muddled sorries and where were yous and how they’d been going crazy - which Rosie had already filled us in on - and it could have gone the other way for a brief second, when they stopped long enough for my mum to proper ask, “Where have you been?”
Because we hadn’t quite worked out this bit. Hadn’t quite decided whether it would be safe to tell them about the hotel and the job and the dodgy blokes… about him.
Sian hadn’t wanted to. She’d said we didn’t know how they were gonna react anyhows. What if we had to take off again? What if time hadn’t done any good? What if it had made things worse?
I said there was no ways we were going back there. She said yeah, but still…
So I’m not answering my mum, can barely meet her eye, pleading, accusing, making me feel the guilt like a thousand times worse than what I’d felt on the phone.
And me dad lets us off the hook, says, “Come on, they must just want a sit down right now, after all this.”
And really he has no idea where we’ve been, makes it sound like we’d trekked all round the country on some crusade, rather than slumming it in the city, a bus ride away.
But I guess the emotion’s got the better of us, that and all my nerves that have been jangling away since we woke up, since we decided to come back. And I sort of melt back into the sofa and it feels and smells just like home again and suddenly all I want to do is fall asleep.
My mum full on hugs me again and squeezes both my hands and tells me how relieved she is… blah blah blah, I’m trying to keep awake and let it sink in but they’re all going blurry. My dad rests his big hand on her shoulder, says how about a brew, and she sort of looks nervously back at us, like I’m gonna make a break for it the minute her back is turned.
Rosie’s next, kneelin’ beside us, “You are so, like, famous now,” she’s rabbitin’ on, saying about police posters and such and I try and tune it out because now I just feel stupid for causing all of this.
And I can hear my mum bustling about in the kitchen and cupboards banging open and shut and I know she’s going to town on the tea, getting out this and that and making a fuss. It makes me feel a bit better, that. Like maybe everything’s gonna be okay now.
I glance over at Sian and she’s full on fidgeting in her way, watching us all, looking ready to bolt the second someone starts on her. I want to take her hand but she’s leaning against the window ledge out of reach and my limbs aren’t up to moving. I pat the sofa next to me and she sneaks a look at my dad, weighing up whether this is gonna be the trigger to kick things off again.
But my dad’s sat down in his armchair and he’s all worried and looking older than I remember. But that look of horror and disbelief, that look from back when I first told him, is well and truly gone.
“Sit down, love,” he says to her and she sort of shuffles over while keeping her eyes on him, as if he’s gonna suddenly change his mind.
“You had us all worried sick,” he repeats for maybe the fifth time, but I can tell he means it, can picture him actually sitting there in the dark, with his empty bottle and shaking hands, wondering where we were. And for the first time I begin to wonder whether we could have stayed.
“Sorry,” I try and say, but my voice is proper hoarse and it sounds like too small a word for the weeks that have passed. Sian’s still silent, looking at her shoes. I feel her shrug next to me. Sian’s not sorry.
And I don’t know if my dad catches it or not, but he’s talking to her now and he’s doing his best reassuring voice.
“Your folks and all, Sian,” he says. “They’ve been round here all the time, or we’ve been round their’s. Tearin’ our hair out. Goin’ round in circles. We all just wanted you back.”
“Mm. Right,” she murmurs, and it sort of sounds like she’s agreeing with him and telling him to shut up all at once.
And even though she’s got her hands buried in her jacket pockets I manage to squeeze one of mine in there and link fingers to let her know we’ll be alright.
She sort of smiles a bit at me, but I know it’s not working.
And my mum comes back in - apparently having heard everything - with tea and toast and biscuits and the offer of some scram if we like it cos we must be starvin’ and how thin we both look, and Sian’s tensing up even more at this sudden out of the blue niceness, and then she’s sayin’, “Kevin you should ring Sian’s parents now, they’ll be dying to get over here first thing.”
And the look of sheer horror on her face has me now really holding her hand, like in full view of everyone, and even my mum notices and says, “Honestly love, they’ve been out of their mind with worry over you. Your mum’s been up from Southport every other day. And when she wasn’t they’ve both been out on the streets, asking round everywhere. Well, we all have, haven’t we?”
And she’s looking at my dad and my sister and their faces are all sad in that way you get when thinking back on something that shouldn’t have happened but can never be changed. And for a second I’m back in that kitchen with the too bright light and his awful awful breath and the mountain of pans that would never get clean no matter how much you scrubbed.
“I must have knocked on like, fifty doors a day,” Rosie’s sayin’ but she doesn’t sound angry or upset, she just sounds like Rosie. “You totally owe me a new pair of heels.”
My dad laughs a bit and my mum does one of her tight smiles before gesturing at the phone with a slight nod of her head.
“Kevin? I think we should ring them now, don’t you?”
“Sian?” he’s looking at her for some sort of confirmation, cos she’s really not a part of this, not even trying to be. Just sitting there with one hand in mine, the other chewing on her thumbnail.
“Okay,” she murmurs before catching my eye.
And this is the other thing I was afraid of. Because going back was one thing, when I knew more or less what my family was like. But Sian’s was different. I couldn’t say it would all be okay in the end. Well, I could say it, I could promise her it would, but I didn’t really know. And neither did she. And here we were, sending her to face the firing squad on her own, and it felt like more of a betrayal than anything that had happened before.
“You sure?” I whisper, stroking her hand with my thumb, doing my best to reassure her.
“Might as well get it over with,” she mutters quietly, before announcing, “I’ll speak to my mum.”
They’ve dialled the number before she’s had time to change her mind.
* * * * *
I knew it’d be like this. Exactly like this. Sophie’s parents were all dead glad and hugging her and fussing over us the minute we were in the door. But mine?
After they’d finished telling me how I’d be the death of them, they started up on each other. Again. Nothing like a crisis for bringing people together. Not.
My dad was still referring to Sophie as that girl and my mum was all about how my stepdad had offered to pay for some posh private school where I could go do my A Levels. Away from that girl, no doubt. I told them, no chance.
They didn’t even bother asking where I’d been. I mean, they asked where we’d gone and after shrugging and ignoring them a bit I just said the city. And that was that. My dad just spat out that we must’ve been living on the street and the thought hadn’t even seemed to have occurred to my mum. Where we’d actually slept. What we’d actually done for money. Or hadn’t done. Maybe she thought we’d been living off my life savings for the last four weeks. Maybe she thought £52.60 was really enough to get you into Manchester and keep you fed and bed for a month these days.
But soon enough they’d stopped with the one-way interrogation and turned on each other.
They didn’t even see me when I slipped out the back, still shouting and swearing and blaming. God, I can imagine the last four weeks. Serves them right, though.
It feels dead weird being back but not actually back. I mean, I guess they’re gonna pack me off back to Southport, but - I dunno... It doesn’t really matter anymore, they can’t do anything to me now.
Maybe that’s what this weirdness is. It’s like, this empty feeling. They didn’t want us back, not really. Not enough to come find us. And we didn’t want to come back either. Well, Soph did, I think, she never really said, but I think she did. But it’s different for her. Her family are all together and that.
But yeah, I’m only back because of what happened. Because we ran out of options. And money. Back in the bosom of my loving family, what a joke. They’re still so angry, nothing’s changed.
And I s’pose I’m angry too. Cos I couldn’t even do running away right. Loser.
So I’m sat at the bench outside the taxis and who should come up to us? Ryan. I don’t know why, but my first instinct is to get up and leave before he has a chance to say anything.
But he’s looking all serious and almost embarrassed and I guess I take pity on him or something cos I manage to sort of smile a bit and that makes him smile back.
“Heard you were back,” he begins.
I sigh cos of course he’s already heard. We’ve been back what, an hour? “Yeah well, that’s this place for you,” I answer him.
He’s rocking on his heels a bit and looking about like he’s not sure if he should stay or not. I’m not sure either.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and it’s a bit shy, a bit scared of what the answer might be, a bit Ryan.
And I can’t really begin to answer that question without going into the whole sorry mess of what’s been goin’ on with us, so I opt for the simplest route, tell him I’m fine.
I guess my deadpan look and sunken eyes probably tell him a different story. He takes that as his cue to sit down.
“Everyone’s been dead worried about you,” he says, like it matters.
“Yeah?” I’m watching the corner now, wondering how long before Sophie comes out looking for me, hoping she finds me before my mum or my dad does.
“Yeah. They kept askin’ me if I’d known where you might be. If I’d heard from yous. Every day they asked me.”
And I’m sort of listening to him because at least Ryan’s going to give me the uncensored unembellished version of what’s gone on since we left, and I guess I owe him that much anyway.
“So what you tell ‘em, then?”
“I told them I didn’t know. I mean, I didn’t, did I?”
And now he’s lookin’ at me and it’s all wrong because he doesn’t look pleased to see me or angry to see me - the two usual emotions from Ryan - he just looks sort of... hurt. And it makes me swallow hard cos I don’t want to care about this right now. About him and his feelings and the fact that maybe I really did owe him something better than what he got. Like giving him the benefit of the doubt. Like trusting him when he’d not told anyone about me and Sophie.
“I thought, maybe you’d have gone for maybe a couple days and be back. Gone to Wales or summit, you were sayin’ before how you used to go on holidays there.”
“Yeah, well, no money for that this time.” I murmur, trying to glance at my watch without seeming rude.
“No,” he agrees, “Only, we didn’t know, did we? Didn’t have a clue, Sian. Didn’t know if you’d snuck away to some caravan in the country or disappeared down some side alley, set upon by some junkies or--“
“Ryan,” and I have to stop him, I have to, cos he’s sounding upset and it still makes me upset when he’s like that and really, he has every right to be.
And just at that minute Sophie comes into view and she’s changed her clothes and looks instantly better than she’d done for the last however many weeks, and I’m still in my unwashed jeans feelin’ all skanky and unclean.
“Hey,” I say as I scoot to make room for her on the bench.
“Alright,” goes Ryan.
And she acknowledges him, but is instantly askin’ me how things went with my folks and I really haven’t the energy or inclination to get into it right now in front of him and all his questions.
So I groan and roll my eyes and tell her it was exactly how I expected and she puts her hand on my knee and squeezes.
Ryan’s doing his best to not flinch but I can tell he’s not too comfortable about all of this and so I resist the urge to rest my head against her shoulder.
Sophie’s giving us the once over now, sort of questioning me with her eyes what’s been going on, what’s been said. I try and smile to make her relax and Ryan asks her how she is.
“Hungry,” she replies which makes me laugh cos she’s had her tea and I’ve still had nothing.
So Ryan offers to buy us chips, and us, being utterly skint now, agree.
And after a while it doesn’t seem that terrible, being back. It doesn’t even feel that different, eating chips on our bench, me, Sophie and Ryan. Only I’m with her now.
Eventually he asks us and Sophie and I exchange meaningful glances.
Where’ve we been?
“We got jobs in this hotel,” she tells him, which of course sounds a million times worse than what it was. Or maybe not.
“In the kitchen, washing up and that,” I add, before he jumps to the wrong idea.
I don’t know what he was expecting, but he looks surprised, like torn between being impressed and disappointed.
“What, you were stayin’ in a hotel?”
“Yeah,” I say and Sophie chimes in that it was a fleapit hotel.
Which, in fairness, is probably overselling it. I can still smell the stale smoky curtains in my hair. God, I really need to wash my hair, with like, proper expensive shampoo.
“I thought,” he shrugs, and fishes out a remaining chip from the tray I’ve been busy scoffing, “I thought you’d been sleepin’ rough this whole time, like on the street and that. I’d been picturing you freezing your arses off huddled in a doorway or somethin’.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I smirk.
“We’re a bit more resourceful than that,” Sophie says, in that way that suggests she’s always going to be that little bit smarter than Ryan. That bit better. Well, she’s smarter than me, no doubt. Thank God.
“No, well, fair play,” he goes and it makes me almost feel like we’ve made out too easy because the reality was a fair bit harder than just what it sounded like.
“We weren’t there the whole time,” I continue, “Our first night there was proper scary, just wanderin’ around, lookin’ for somethin’, a hostel or somethin’. And then we ran out of money by the third day.
“What you’d do then?”
“We,” I look at Soph, who’s giving me her warning look, as if I’d tell him everything!
“Well, we wandered around in the rain for ages, getting proper soaked and miserable, thinking we were probably gonna die, or get raped or somethin’ and then we ended up at the station after closing. And then,” and here I pause and nudge Sophie cos I always loved this bit, “Miss Christian 101 here had the bright idea of trying out this railway siding. And that was where we managed to sneak our way into a carriage.”
And now he is looking impressed. Because breaking and entering is just the sort of thing that does impress boys. Typical.
“You slept in a train carriage?”
“Well, not so much slept-“
“Yeah, ” Sophie breaks in, and I can feel her elbow digging into my hip as she does, “Yeah, we did.”
He starts lookin’ sceptical so I add, “ Cos it was hard to actually sleep, what with it being really cold, proper freezing and that. And we were soaked from being out in the downpour, so...”
I trail off as I remember back to that night. And I can’t help but look at her then, and we’re sitting so close I can feel her cheeks burning as the blush travels up her face.
I wink at her and she purses her lips and tries to frown but really she’s smiling. And for the first time since being back I’m smiling. Really smiling.
First time for everything, they say. Like going out with a girl. Like running away from home. Like losing your virginity in an old out of service railway carriage.
It was cold. It was freezing. But then it was good. It was probably the one good thing that had happened the whole time we’d been away. Even if she hadn’t let me touch her for three days after.
“So when d’you end up at the hotel?” he asks.
“Not long after,” she says vaguely. We don’t really want to go in to that one either. Dark dank, miserable hotel. And that bastard. That creepy bastard.
“And you got room and board, did ya?”
“We got enough,” I reply, snagging the last chip, instinctively halving it for me and Sophie. Old habits and all that...
He folds over the polystyrene tray and smooshes it between his hands with a thunderous bang. Typical boy. Breaking things for the sake of it.
“So why’d you leave? Why’d ya come back?”
And I can feel his eyes boring into one side of my head and Sophie’s on the other.
“Guy was a perv,” I manage to say without a waver in my voice. I hear it come out all calm and it’s almost enough to make me forget. His hands and his breath on my neck and that dingy back office with the lock.
“What guy? What he do?” and without realising it Ryan’s puffed his chest out like he’s ready to go on some rampage against the big unknown evil, ready to defend my honour till the last. What a joke.
“Nothing,” I tell him. “He did nothing. We got the hell out of there before he could.”
And it’s pretty much the truth. Other than the hands that got a grip on me that one time, those big hairy fingers that had curled around mine and made me think he’d break my hands before letting me go.
And I can’t help but rub my wrists as I think about it and I know Sophie notices because she’s got her arm around my shoulder now, smoothing circles on my back.
“What happened?” he persists, “Sian, what he do? If he’s done something to you, you’ve got to tell the police or-“
And he’s got me shaking my head and almost laughing bitterly because really he knows nothing.
“Ryan, just leave it, yeah?” Sophie goes and it’s then that I do lean my head on her shoulder because I’m tired of being on edge and worrying about everything and it seems stupid, now that we’re back, to be caring so much about these tiny things that don’t even matter. Things like, what will people say, what will people think.
“Sorry, I just--“ and he looks lost and confused and I sort of instinctively reach out for his hand while still leaning against Sophie.
“It’s okay Ryan. Really, I’m okay. We both are.” And I do my best to smile at him again and it seems to work.
We sit like that for a minute, maybe two, not really knowing where to go from that point. I’m thinking of my folks, of who I’d rather chance a night with, my dad or my mum. Be near my girlfriend or near my saner, less-combustible parent.
I wonder idly if the Websters would let me stay the night. If they’d ever let me stay again.
“So,” Ryan breaks the silence first. “What happens now?”
I feel Sophie sort of shakin’ her head a bit and her warmth makes me sigh.
“Wish I knew,” I say.
Author: noclueontheloo
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Coronation Street, Sophie/Sian
Word Count: 3885
Summary: And they’ve pulled me in so tight that I can feel Sian’s fingers just slipping out of my hand and there’s nothing I can do about it but just stand there and let them all squeeze the life out of me.
We’d spoke to Rosie only that morning, so she knew ahead of time. But we still didn’t say where we were, where we’d been. Sian wouldn’t have let me anyhow, knowin’ they'd all be round the minute we said, collectin’ us like we needed savin’ or summit. Which we kinda did I s'pose, but that weren’t the point.
And as we’re walkin’ back up the street I take her hand cos I can tell by the way she’s lickin’ her lips and lookin’ about that she’s full on terrified of the reaction.
“Come on,” I tell her, “We’ll do mine first, yeah?”
She sort of nods a bit and does a sweep of the road to see if anyone’s about, any of the curtains twitching yet, but so far we’re in luck.
So’s I goes to ring the bell, cos somehow it feels wrong to just use my key after all this time - and besides, I’m not even sure myself if this is my home anymore after all that’s gone on.
My finger’s barely left the buzzer before the door's swept open.
And they’ve pulled me in so tight that I can feel Sian’s fingers just slipping out of my hand and there’s nothing I can do about it but just stand there and let them all squeeze the life out of me.
But I can like, feel her, behind me, shifting nervously, waiting to see if they’re gonna turn on her again or accept her or what.
And my dad’s looking at us with tears in his eyes, actual proper tears coming out down his cheeks and it’s too much cos he’s my dad and he’s not supposed to cry and certainly not over me.
And they keep on saying the same things over and over, all these questions, all these muddled sorries and where were yous and how they’d been going crazy - which Rosie had already filled us in on - and it could have gone the other way for a brief second, when they stopped long enough for my mum to proper ask, “Where have you been?”
Because we hadn’t quite worked out this bit. Hadn’t quite decided whether it would be safe to tell them about the hotel and the job and the dodgy blokes… about him.
Sian hadn’t wanted to. She’d said we didn’t know how they were gonna react anyhows. What if we had to take off again? What if time hadn’t done any good? What if it had made things worse?
I said there was no ways we were going back there. She said yeah, but still…
So I’m not answering my mum, can barely meet her eye, pleading, accusing, making me feel the guilt like a thousand times worse than what I’d felt on the phone.
And me dad lets us off the hook, says, “Come on, they must just want a sit down right now, after all this.”
And really he has no idea where we’ve been, makes it sound like we’d trekked all round the country on some crusade, rather than slumming it in the city, a bus ride away.
But I guess the emotion’s got the better of us, that and all my nerves that have been jangling away since we woke up, since we decided to come back. And I sort of melt back into the sofa and it feels and smells just like home again and suddenly all I want to do is fall asleep.
My mum full on hugs me again and squeezes both my hands and tells me how relieved she is… blah blah blah, I’m trying to keep awake and let it sink in but they’re all going blurry. My dad rests his big hand on her shoulder, says how about a brew, and she sort of looks nervously back at us, like I’m gonna make a break for it the minute her back is turned.
Rosie’s next, kneelin’ beside us, “You are so, like, famous now,” she’s rabbitin’ on, saying about police posters and such and I try and tune it out because now I just feel stupid for causing all of this.
And I can hear my mum bustling about in the kitchen and cupboards banging open and shut and I know she’s going to town on the tea, getting out this and that and making a fuss. It makes me feel a bit better, that. Like maybe everything’s gonna be okay now.
I glance over at Sian and she’s full on fidgeting in her way, watching us all, looking ready to bolt the second someone starts on her. I want to take her hand but she’s leaning against the window ledge out of reach and my limbs aren’t up to moving. I pat the sofa next to me and she sneaks a look at my dad, weighing up whether this is gonna be the trigger to kick things off again.
But my dad’s sat down in his armchair and he’s all worried and looking older than I remember. But that look of horror and disbelief, that look from back when I first told him, is well and truly gone.
“Sit down, love,” he says to her and she sort of shuffles over while keeping her eyes on him, as if he’s gonna suddenly change his mind.
“You had us all worried sick,” he repeats for maybe the fifth time, but I can tell he means it, can picture him actually sitting there in the dark, with his empty bottle and shaking hands, wondering where we were. And for the first time I begin to wonder whether we could have stayed.
“Sorry,” I try and say, but my voice is proper hoarse and it sounds like too small a word for the weeks that have passed. Sian’s still silent, looking at her shoes. I feel her shrug next to me. Sian’s not sorry.
And I don’t know if my dad catches it or not, but he’s talking to her now and he’s doing his best reassuring voice.
“Your folks and all, Sian,” he says. “They’ve been round here all the time, or we’ve been round their’s. Tearin’ our hair out. Goin’ round in circles. We all just wanted you back.”
“Mm. Right,” she murmurs, and it sort of sounds like she’s agreeing with him and telling him to shut up all at once.
And even though she’s got her hands buried in her jacket pockets I manage to squeeze one of mine in there and link fingers to let her know we’ll be alright.
She sort of smiles a bit at me, but I know it’s not working.
And my mum comes back in - apparently having heard everything - with tea and toast and biscuits and the offer of some scram if we like it cos we must be starvin’ and how thin we both look, and Sian’s tensing up even more at this sudden out of the blue niceness, and then she’s sayin’, “Kevin you should ring Sian’s parents now, they’ll be dying to get over here first thing.”
And the look of sheer horror on her face has me now really holding her hand, like in full view of everyone, and even my mum notices and says, “Honestly love, they’ve been out of their mind with worry over you. Your mum’s been up from Southport every other day. And when she wasn’t they’ve both been out on the streets, asking round everywhere. Well, we all have, haven’t we?”
And she’s looking at my dad and my sister and their faces are all sad in that way you get when thinking back on something that shouldn’t have happened but can never be changed. And for a second I’m back in that kitchen with the too bright light and his awful awful breath and the mountain of pans that would never get clean no matter how much you scrubbed.
“I must have knocked on like, fifty doors a day,” Rosie’s sayin’ but she doesn’t sound angry or upset, she just sounds like Rosie. “You totally owe me a new pair of heels.”
My dad laughs a bit and my mum does one of her tight smiles before gesturing at the phone with a slight nod of her head.
“Kevin? I think we should ring them now, don’t you?”
“Sian?” he’s looking at her for some sort of confirmation, cos she’s really not a part of this, not even trying to be. Just sitting there with one hand in mine, the other chewing on her thumbnail.
“Okay,” she murmurs before catching my eye.
And this is the other thing I was afraid of. Because going back was one thing, when I knew more or less what my family was like. But Sian’s was different. I couldn’t say it would all be okay in the end. Well, I could say it, I could promise her it would, but I didn’t really know. And neither did she. And here we were, sending her to face the firing squad on her own, and it felt like more of a betrayal than anything that had happened before.
“You sure?” I whisper, stroking her hand with my thumb, doing my best to reassure her.
“Might as well get it over with,” she mutters quietly, before announcing, “I’ll speak to my mum.”
They’ve dialled the number before she’s had time to change her mind.
* * * * *
I knew it’d be like this. Exactly like this. Sophie’s parents were all dead glad and hugging her and fussing over us the minute we were in the door. But mine?
After they’d finished telling me how I’d be the death of them, they started up on each other. Again. Nothing like a crisis for bringing people together. Not.
My dad was still referring to Sophie as that girl and my mum was all about how my stepdad had offered to pay for some posh private school where I could go do my A Levels. Away from that girl, no doubt. I told them, no chance.
They didn’t even bother asking where I’d been. I mean, they asked where we’d gone and after shrugging and ignoring them a bit I just said the city. And that was that. My dad just spat out that we must’ve been living on the street and the thought hadn’t even seemed to have occurred to my mum. Where we’d actually slept. What we’d actually done for money. Or hadn’t done. Maybe she thought we’d been living off my life savings for the last four weeks. Maybe she thought £52.60 was really enough to get you into Manchester and keep you fed and bed for a month these days.
But soon enough they’d stopped with the one-way interrogation and turned on each other.
They didn’t even see me when I slipped out the back, still shouting and swearing and blaming. God, I can imagine the last four weeks. Serves them right, though.
It feels dead weird being back but not actually back. I mean, I guess they’re gonna pack me off back to Southport, but - I dunno... It doesn’t really matter anymore, they can’t do anything to me now.
Maybe that’s what this weirdness is. It’s like, this empty feeling. They didn’t want us back, not really. Not enough to come find us. And we didn’t want to come back either. Well, Soph did, I think, she never really said, but I think she did. But it’s different for her. Her family are all together and that.
But yeah, I’m only back because of what happened. Because we ran out of options. And money. Back in the bosom of my loving family, what a joke. They’re still so angry, nothing’s changed.
And I s’pose I’m angry too. Cos I couldn’t even do running away right. Loser.
So I’m sat at the bench outside the taxis and who should come up to us? Ryan. I don’t know why, but my first instinct is to get up and leave before he has a chance to say anything.
But he’s looking all serious and almost embarrassed and I guess I take pity on him or something cos I manage to sort of smile a bit and that makes him smile back.
“Heard you were back,” he begins.
I sigh cos of course he’s already heard. We’ve been back what, an hour? “Yeah well, that’s this place for you,” I answer him.
He’s rocking on his heels a bit and looking about like he’s not sure if he should stay or not. I’m not sure either.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and it’s a bit shy, a bit scared of what the answer might be, a bit Ryan.
And I can’t really begin to answer that question without going into the whole sorry mess of what’s been goin’ on with us, so I opt for the simplest route, tell him I’m fine.
I guess my deadpan look and sunken eyes probably tell him a different story. He takes that as his cue to sit down.
“Everyone’s been dead worried about you,” he says, like it matters.
“Yeah?” I’m watching the corner now, wondering how long before Sophie comes out looking for me, hoping she finds me before my mum or my dad does.
“Yeah. They kept askin’ me if I’d known where you might be. If I’d heard from yous. Every day they asked me.”
And I’m sort of listening to him because at least Ryan’s going to give me the uncensored unembellished version of what’s gone on since we left, and I guess I owe him that much anyway.
“So what you tell ‘em, then?”
“I told them I didn’t know. I mean, I didn’t, did I?”
And now he’s lookin’ at me and it’s all wrong because he doesn’t look pleased to see me or angry to see me - the two usual emotions from Ryan - he just looks sort of... hurt. And it makes me swallow hard cos I don’t want to care about this right now. About him and his feelings and the fact that maybe I really did owe him something better than what he got. Like giving him the benefit of the doubt. Like trusting him when he’d not told anyone about me and Sophie.
“I thought, maybe you’d have gone for maybe a couple days and be back. Gone to Wales or summit, you were sayin’ before how you used to go on holidays there.”
“Yeah, well, no money for that this time.” I murmur, trying to glance at my watch without seeming rude.
“No,” he agrees, “Only, we didn’t know, did we? Didn’t have a clue, Sian. Didn’t know if you’d snuck away to some caravan in the country or disappeared down some side alley, set upon by some junkies or--“
“Ryan,” and I have to stop him, I have to, cos he’s sounding upset and it still makes me upset when he’s like that and really, he has every right to be.
And just at that minute Sophie comes into view and she’s changed her clothes and looks instantly better than she’d done for the last however many weeks, and I’m still in my unwashed jeans feelin’ all skanky and unclean.
“Hey,” I say as I scoot to make room for her on the bench.
“Alright,” goes Ryan.
And she acknowledges him, but is instantly askin’ me how things went with my folks and I really haven’t the energy or inclination to get into it right now in front of him and all his questions.
So I groan and roll my eyes and tell her it was exactly how I expected and she puts her hand on my knee and squeezes.
Ryan’s doing his best to not flinch but I can tell he’s not too comfortable about all of this and so I resist the urge to rest my head against her shoulder.
Sophie’s giving us the once over now, sort of questioning me with her eyes what’s been going on, what’s been said. I try and smile to make her relax and Ryan asks her how she is.
“Hungry,” she replies which makes me laugh cos she’s had her tea and I’ve still had nothing.
So Ryan offers to buy us chips, and us, being utterly skint now, agree.
And after a while it doesn’t seem that terrible, being back. It doesn’t even feel that different, eating chips on our bench, me, Sophie and Ryan. Only I’m with her now.
Eventually he asks us and Sophie and I exchange meaningful glances.
Where’ve we been?
“We got jobs in this hotel,” she tells him, which of course sounds a million times worse than what it was. Or maybe not.
“In the kitchen, washing up and that,” I add, before he jumps to the wrong idea.
I don’t know what he was expecting, but he looks surprised, like torn between being impressed and disappointed.
“What, you were stayin’ in a hotel?”
“Yeah,” I say and Sophie chimes in that it was a fleapit hotel.
Which, in fairness, is probably overselling it. I can still smell the stale smoky curtains in my hair. God, I really need to wash my hair, with like, proper expensive shampoo.
“I thought,” he shrugs, and fishes out a remaining chip from the tray I’ve been busy scoffing, “I thought you’d been sleepin’ rough this whole time, like on the street and that. I’d been picturing you freezing your arses off huddled in a doorway or somethin’.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” I smirk.
“We’re a bit more resourceful than that,” Sophie says, in that way that suggests she’s always going to be that little bit smarter than Ryan. That bit better. Well, she’s smarter than me, no doubt. Thank God.
“No, well, fair play,” he goes and it makes me almost feel like we’ve made out too easy because the reality was a fair bit harder than just what it sounded like.
“We weren’t there the whole time,” I continue, “Our first night there was proper scary, just wanderin’ around, lookin’ for somethin’, a hostel or somethin’. And then we ran out of money by the third day.
“What you’d do then?”
“We,” I look at Soph, who’s giving me her warning look, as if I’d tell him everything!
“Well, we wandered around in the rain for ages, getting proper soaked and miserable, thinking we were probably gonna die, or get raped or somethin’ and then we ended up at the station after closing. And then,” and here I pause and nudge Sophie cos I always loved this bit, “Miss Christian 101 here had the bright idea of trying out this railway siding. And that was where we managed to sneak our way into a carriage.”
And now he is looking impressed. Because breaking and entering is just the sort of thing that does impress boys. Typical.
“You slept in a train carriage?”
“Well, not so much slept-“
“Yeah, ” Sophie breaks in, and I can feel her elbow digging into my hip as she does, “Yeah, we did.”
He starts lookin’ sceptical so I add, “ Cos it was hard to actually sleep, what with it being really cold, proper freezing and that. And we were soaked from being out in the downpour, so...”
I trail off as I remember back to that night. And I can’t help but look at her then, and we’re sitting so close I can feel her cheeks burning as the blush travels up her face.
I wink at her and she purses her lips and tries to frown but really she’s smiling. And for the first time since being back I’m smiling. Really smiling.
First time for everything, they say. Like going out with a girl. Like running away from home. Like losing your virginity in an old out of service railway carriage.
It was cold. It was freezing. But then it was good. It was probably the one good thing that had happened the whole time we’d been away. Even if she hadn’t let me touch her for three days after.
“So when d’you end up at the hotel?” he asks.
“Not long after,” she says vaguely. We don’t really want to go in to that one either. Dark dank, miserable hotel. And that bastard. That creepy bastard.
“And you got room and board, did ya?”
“We got enough,” I reply, snagging the last chip, instinctively halving it for me and Sophie. Old habits and all that...
He folds over the polystyrene tray and smooshes it between his hands with a thunderous bang. Typical boy. Breaking things for the sake of it.
“So why’d you leave? Why’d ya come back?”
And I can feel his eyes boring into one side of my head and Sophie’s on the other.
“Guy was a perv,” I manage to say without a waver in my voice. I hear it come out all calm and it’s almost enough to make me forget. His hands and his breath on my neck and that dingy back office with the lock.
“What guy? What he do?” and without realising it Ryan’s puffed his chest out like he’s ready to go on some rampage against the big unknown evil, ready to defend my honour till the last. What a joke.
“Nothing,” I tell him. “He did nothing. We got the hell out of there before he could.”
And it’s pretty much the truth. Other than the hands that got a grip on me that one time, those big hairy fingers that had curled around mine and made me think he’d break my hands before letting me go.
And I can’t help but rub my wrists as I think about it and I know Sophie notices because she’s got her arm around my shoulder now, smoothing circles on my back.
“What happened?” he persists, “Sian, what he do? If he’s done something to you, you’ve got to tell the police or-“
And he’s got me shaking my head and almost laughing bitterly because really he knows nothing.
“Ryan, just leave it, yeah?” Sophie goes and it’s then that I do lean my head on her shoulder because I’m tired of being on edge and worrying about everything and it seems stupid, now that we’re back, to be caring so much about these tiny things that don’t even matter. Things like, what will people say, what will people think.
“Sorry, I just--“ and he looks lost and confused and I sort of instinctively reach out for his hand while still leaning against Sophie.
“It’s okay Ryan. Really, I’m okay. We both are.” And I do my best to smile at him again and it seems to work.
We sit like that for a minute, maybe two, not really knowing where to go from that point. I’m thinking of my folks, of who I’d rather chance a night with, my dad or my mum. Be near my girlfriend or near my saner, less-combustible parent.
I wonder idly if the Websters would let me stay the night. If they’d ever let me stay again.
“So,” Ryan breaks the silence first. “What happens now?”
I feel Sophie sort of shakin’ her head a bit and her warmth makes me sigh.
“Wish I knew,” I say.