Page 43 of I Know How This Ends

My smug giddiness lasts throughout the next morning.

In spite of the fact that by the time I finally wake up—hungover—Cheddar has already successfully launched himself off the

bed like a base jumper, made his tottering way to my closet and ripped apart at least three pairs of trousers.

“Oops,” I trill lightly, picking him up. “Naughty boy.”

Cheds squeaks in response— whatever— and struggles out of my arm. I watch him with an ache of affection as he looks for something, anything, he can ruin.

“Good luck,” I chirp sarcastically as he frantically claws my leather sofa. “That’s going to have a blue blanket on it eventually,

and I think we know why.”

Then I unsuccessfully search for something to feed him. I’m studying my uneaten pot noodles—pretty sure it’s not going to

double as kitten food—when the doorbell rings.

Opening the door, I stare at the delivery man in front of me, holding a large paper bag.

“Here,” he says abruptly, handing it over and leaving.

Blinking in surprise, I open the bag: it’s stuffed full of kitten food, toys, treats, litter, and a box that I assume is for

him to poop in, but—as a new cat mum—I can’t be perfectly sure. Still stinking of vodka, I run back to the door and watch

the delivery man drive away. Angel? Is he a clairvoyant too? Could he see this coming?

Then I look at the little paper receipt stapled to the bag.

Thank you again. Henry.

PS Fancy a sexy weekend away as a gesture of my intense gratitude? xxx

PPS Call Jules. Don’t waste your time being angry.

I let out a grunt of gratitude, pleasure and irritation.

Mind your own business, Henry Armstrong, you sweet, thoughtful, incredibly sexy man.

And yes—I would very much like a sexy weekend away, please and thank you.

I grab my phone and breathe out.

Missed call: Jules

Missed call: Jules

Jules: Please talk to me, Margot. I need to explain.

Jules: Eve, are you OK?

Jules: Eve.

Jules: EVE PICK THE FUCK UP.

I blink at our group chat, where Jules is getting increasingly panicked.

It’s only then that I realize she has been messaging both of us and Eve hasn’t responded. Which is, and I say this with three decades of knowledge, unprecedented. Eve responds when

it’s 2a.m., when she’s ill, when there’s nothing to respond to. When we got our first mobile phones, Eve spent six whole

weeks constructing laborious LUV U 4EVA 3 3 messages that must have taken her about three hours each to type out and got

responses like K and U2 and PLS STP ND JST CLL S because vowels were too much of a faff for thirteen-year-olds to bother with.

Panic bubbles in my throat as I dial Jules’s number.

“I’m not talking to you,” I say fiercely when she picks up. “I’m still very fucking angry with you.”

“I know,” Jules says. “I get it. Have you spoken to Eve?”

“No. Have you spoken to Eve?”

“If I had spoken to Eve,” Jules says with a small sigh, “would I be asking you if you’d spoken to Eve and leaving messages

like EVE PICK THE FUCK UP?”

“Really?” I snap. “You wanna get all smart-arse with me, Julia? That’s the life path you’ve decided to take?”

“I’m really worried,” she continues, gamely ignoring me. “She’s not picking up, she’s not responding to texts, she’s not at

home or in the library. I went to her school and she’s called in sick.”

“She’s called in sick ?” Another wave of panic. “Eve doesn’t call in sick.”

“Why are you telling me that? I bloody know. So where the hell is she?”

Cheddar doesn’t care where Eve is: he’s meowing at me very loudly.

“Ugh.” Holding the phone under my chin, I quickly open a bag of kitten food and pour it in a cereal bowl, then put it on the

floor. “There you go. Eat and be quiet.”

“Who, me? Who are you talking to?”

“I’ve got a new...” I pause. Nope, she’s not getting round me that easily. “None of your goddamn business. So what the

hell is—”

Oh my God. I am the worst, most selfish person on the planet.

We both are.

“The baby,” I say, putting my hand over my eyes. “Lily’s baby.”

“Shit. You’re right.”

The guilt is overwhelming. I thought that news was my news to kick off about, but it wasn’t. Because Eve was sitting there, quietly falling apart too. Three days of no texts or

messages from Eve is completely out of character. And we didn’t even notice , we were so busy making it about us.

“We are horrible, horrible friends,” I say, grabbing my coat and putting on my shoes.

“I’m worse, if that helps.”

“You’re definitely worse,” I seethe. “But I’m not talking about this with you right now. I’m still too angry. We have Eve to worry about.”

What the hell am I going to do with Cheddar while I’m out? I don’t have time to google Can you leave a kitten on its own or is that irresponsible parenting , so I pick him up and tuck him into my coat. “You’re coming with me.”

“Me?” Jules says.

“Not you.” I scowl at the phone again. “I don’t want to see you. I’ll find Eve and then I’ll tell you where she is, and then

you can go separately and talk to her too. After I’ve been.”

“Right. OK.” Jules pauses. “Margot, we really need to—”

“Nope,” I say. “Conversation over.”

Jules was right: Eve isn’t at home or at school.

As I stomp with growing frustration around Bristol, all I feel is anger at myself. It’s an unpleasantly familiar feeling. There she is : Furious Margot-who-hates-herself is back, just as aggressive and as in charge as ever.

“You’re an idiot,” I hiss at myself, checking the local park: Eve’s not there. “You’re a self-absorbed, self-obsessed idiot.”

With Cheddar in my pocket, still fast asleep, I stomp around the city, visiting all of Eve’s favorite haunts.

“You’ve got to be better ,” I mutter at myself. “Stop being so incredibly selfish and—”

Thank God: I see her.

There’s a wave of relief so strong I have to pause while my chest tightens, my eyes fill, my fists clench into balls.

I was on my way to her house, but I should have realized where she’d be immediately.

Eve is sitting on a low wall, opposite the IVF clinic.

She’s wearing a dirty gray tracksuit—which I didn’t know she owned—and staring woodenly into space as couples emerge from the doors every now and then, kissing each other and beaming in hope.

Quickly, I pull out my phone:

Found her.

Oh thank God.

Holding my breath, I approach quietly.

Eve doesn’t hear me coming, isn’t aware of anything going on around her, and I can feel the sadness arching out of her, the heartbreaking defeat. I hurt for her so badly, and suddenly I realize I would give anything to make her feel better. To take it all away.

Without a word, I sit next to her on the wall.

She turns to me, her face blank. She’s been crying: her green eyes are all pink and veined, like one of her beloved pieces

of expensive stone, and her blonde fringe is sticking upward.

“Why?” she says simply. “Why, Maggie?”

“I don’t know.” I pull her into my arms as she starts crying. “It’s not fair and it’s not right and I don’t know and I am

so, so sorry.”

“I just...” Eve looks up at me with wide, bewildered eyes.

“I can’t keep trying. I can’t. I’m so tired .

All the hormones, all the hope, all the disappointment.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Maggie.

I was supposed to fall in love, to be a mum .

That’s all I wanted. I know it’s not modern or whatever, but it’s what I’ve always wanted and it didn’t feel like too much

to ask from the universe. But it is. I’ve asked for too much. I’ve done it six times now and I’m so tired .”

I nod, smoothing her damp hair out of her face. “I know.”

“And then Lily...” She takes a deep breath. “I’m a horrible, horrible person. I am, Margot. I know I am. Because I didn’t

feel glad for her. I should have been glad, I should have been happy because she’s happy, she was my friend for so long, but

I wasn’t . All I could think was... why is it all so easy for you, Lily? Why don’t you have to try as hard? Why don’t you have to ask for it? And now she’s taken the life we both wanted, and I hated her for it.”

I frown. “That doesn’t make you bad, Eve. It makes you human . ”

Somewhere in the back of my head, I can hear Henry telling me the same thing, and I wonder how many of us spend our lives

hating ourselves for the ugliness inside us that we tell nobody.

“It does, it makes me bad. And selfish and unkind and... and... If I was one of my students, I’d be putting me on a

time out in the corner to think about my attitude.” Eve looks again at the IVF clinic door as another couple walk out, holding

hands. “I’m so, so, so grateful that you and Jules have been with me the whole way, but I wanted that , Maggie . I wanted a family .”

I put my arm round her. “You have a family, sweetheart. We are your family.”

“You’re not because you’re fighting .” She starts crying again, and I suddenly see my sweet best friend as she was: with her lopsided plaits and her missing front

tooth and her backpack covered in floral stickers. I am so, so angry that little girl didn’t get everything she wanted. She

deserved all of it. “And I already lost Lily, but I still love her. I haven’t spoken to her because what she did was awful,

and you were so hurt and angry, but I still love her and I miss her so much and I feel so guilty all the time .”

My stomach clenches tight. “Eve...”

Because I’m only now realizing that in my anger, in my rage, in my hurt, I had asked for too much from the people I loved.

Without ever saying never talk to Lily again , I had implied it with the noisiness, the sheer thunder of my pain. I wasn’t at fault for what happened, but I was at fault for how I handled it. For the way I let the lightning shoot through me and hit everything else around me on the way

down.

“You can still see Lily,” I say quietly. “Of course you can. She’s your friend, you don’t have to take sides.”