Forget Me Never

about half an hour Sophie appeared, looking a lot fresher. She gave me a self-conscious smile. We went into the kitchen and shared the pastries I’d brought while she made some ham sandwiches. She still wasn’t saying much. I wondered if she felt weird about me being around her house again.
    ‘Wanna do something this afternoon?’ I asked.
    Sophie looked at me with a slight frown. ‘What kind of thing?’
    I didn’t actually have a plan so I improvised. ‘Let’s go on the London Eye.’ As soon as I said it I knew I’d made a mistake. The Eye would be way too expensive for Sophie. Quickly I added, ‘I’ll pay. Haven’t spent all my birthday money yet.’
    I was convinced that Sophie would refuse. She hated money being an issue. Plus, I was hyper-aware that it sounded like I was asking her on a date. To my surprise she smiled.
    ‘You don’t like heights. The Eye’s a slow version of a big wheel – you chicken out of those at theme parks. And does the Year 8 trip to Edinburgh Castle ring any bells? As I remember, there was a lot of complaining from you that going up on the battlements was a waste of time – and then deathly silence once we were up there . . .’
    ‘I wasn’t scared. I was admiring the view.’
    ‘Yeah, right. Let’s go.’
    On the tube together it was almost like old times. When we reached the South Bank there was a staggeringly long queue of tourists by the Eye but it moved more quickly than we expected. As we got in our pod and it started to rise, I realized this wasn’t a good idea. I’d thought the Eye would be fine because it moves so slowly. Unfortunately I’d forgotten how small the world starts to look when you get up high. I retreated to the bench in the centre of the pod where it seemed safest, leaving everyone else oohing and aahing about the view from the sides.
    ‘Knew you’d wimp out.’ Sophie wasn’t making any effort to disguise her laughter. ‘Come on, coward, live a little. There’s a great view of Big Ben.’
    ‘I’m not a coward. I just have a highly toned sense of self-preservation,’ I said, feeling my stomach clench. Good job this wasn’t a date. Talk about losing street cred! ‘I can see Big Ben supremely well from ground level, thanks.’
    ‘Like I said: coward. What d’you think the Eye’s going to do, suddenly topple over and crash into the Thames?’
    ‘First time for everything,’ I said. But as we eased our way higher I ventured nearer to the windows. Actually it was pretty cool. We’d picked a clear day and could see for miles. So long as I didn’t look directly down I was fine.
    After we’d done the full cycle we went along to Tate Modern and mocked the crazy artwork. It was great just to be with Sophie without talking about Danielle. It was, simply, a nice, ordinary day – exactly what we both needed.

SOPHIE
    Wednesday was busy. I spent the morning in Save the Animals and then sought out Paloma and co. in the park. We ended up moving on to the milkshake bar. It felt good to be doing normal things. On the way we passed Broom Hill. As I looked at the grey buildings and imagined myself walking back through the doors in a few weeks’ time I felt a horrible sense of dread.
    It was only when I was making my way home that evening that I had a chance to think about Danielle. Now I’d had time to reflect I didn’t feel anywhere near as angry as I had been – just sad. At least now I’d talked to Aiden I had some kind of closure.
    As I was walking down the road, digging in my bag for keys, I noticed a blue Mini parked opposite my house. I never normally noticed cars – but I’d seen this one before . . .
    It had been parked in exactly the same spot when I’d come back from the London Eye yesterday. I had noticed it because it was one of those new, hip Minis that sometimes have a pattern on the roof, a Union Jack or something. April, the seven-year-old Julie’s fostering, has a Barbie car just like it. I had been able to make out the driver’s outline and had assumed he was waiting to pick someone up, which had struck me as funny. Our road is mainly full of old people. I couldn’t imagine any of them ever jumping into a cool car, let alone at 9 p.m. when they could be home watching Midsomer Murders .
    So who was it waiting for? Yet again the driver was sitting inside. I didn’t have a great view of him – I was approaching from behind – and I was a little afraid of looking back once I’d passed by. Maybe it was paranoia,