Love is the Drug. Ashley Croft

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      ‘My bag has been ready for hours, Mum,’ said Sarah. ‘Unlike Mol, who hasn’t even started packing. And I don’t see why I have to stay at Auntie Carol’s tonight. I’m eighteen. I could stay here on my own and I’d be fine. I could have mates over for the evening or I could have gone with Tilly to Ibiza. It’s Molly who needs the babysitter.’

      Molly gasped. ‘No, I do not. You’re the one who’d end up in A&E or a police cell if you were left on her own. I’m the responsible one. Everyone knows I’d have my head in a book the whole time Mum and Dad were away.’

      ‘More like blow up the whole house and experiment on Roger,’ said Sarah.

      ‘I love Roger. He’s my hamster too.’

      ‘This is pointless because I’m not letting either of you stay here on your own,’ said their mother, rubbing at the heel of her shoe with a piece of kitchen paper.

      ‘I can manage without you and Dad, you know. I’m not a little girl,’ Sarah muttered, knowing she was pushing her luck.

      Their mother stuck her hands on her hips. ‘No, but I’m turning into a very old lady waiting here. Get your stuff, both of you, and get into the car!’

      Twenty minutes later, Will Havers drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the girls to finally climb into the car. The engine was running as Sarah shoved her overnight case into the boot and Molly climbed in behind their mother, clutching her rucksack to her chest. Sarah shut the car door, fastened her seat belt and stared pointedly out of the window. Maybe, she thought, watching raindrops gently spatter the window, she wouldn’t give Molly the earrings after all.

      As they drove the short distance to Auntie Carol’s, their parents turned on Radio Five. Sarah risked a sideways glance at Molly who had her nose stuck in a thick paperback entitled Guns, Germs and Steel.

      Sarah shook her head. Guns, Germs and Steel? What was that all about, for God’s sake? Molly was barely fifteen. Why wasn’t she into Sweet Valley High or Twilight like Sarah had been? Her sister really was weird, sometimes. Not the gifted genius everyone said, just a freak.

      Unexpectedly, Molly glanced up and their gazes met. Molly’s light blue eyes were innocent and amused. Her light brown hair, which reminded Sarah of runny honey, was secured in a messy ponytail with a pink elastic band. She’d changed into ripped but clean jeans and was still wearing the disgusting spider sweatshirt. Somehow, she still managed to look terrifyingly pretty. In fact, Molly could have worn a sack and still been stunning. Sarah knew that most of the boys in the sixth form, let alone those in Molly’s year, would have given their right arms to date her.

      Sarah returned her gaze to the scenery outside the window but the reflection showed Molly’s slim wrists as she turned the page of the book. A bracelet would look beautiful on her, especially if Molly wore the new blue dress she’d chosen for her birthday from Oasis. Maybe Sarah would make her a bracelet to match the earrings … because no matter how annoying and weird Molly could be, Sarah couldn’t help but love her. And no matter how much she longed to leave school and start her jewellery design course, she was secretly dreading the idea of leaving home and being so far away from her family.

      Her parents had promised to support her in doing an arty course in Falmouth, so far away from Cambridge. She knew that they were keen to be even-handed with both daughters and they’d let her know that they took her hopes and ambitions as seriously as Molly’s, who was a shoo-in for Oxbridge with her precocious talent for science. She’d make new friends, obviously, but the thought of not having Molly to tease and to guide – Molly needed a lot of guidance – and to share a joke, was scary.

      Ever since she could remember, Molly had been a part of her life, like a limb or a vital organ. Her mother had told her that when she first saw Molly in the incubator at the hospital, Sarah had stroked her tiny finger and asked if she would die after a couple of years like their latest hamster. Sarah had apparently cried real tears when her mum had said that Molly was here to stay, as long as Sarah herself – and almost as long as them.

      At the traffic lights, Mr Havers twisted round, a grin on his face. ‘Everyone OK? No one feeling sick?’

      ‘Molly, is it a great idea to read in the back of the car? You know what these roads on the way to Carol’s do to you,’ their mother added.

      ‘If we weren’t going to Carol’s, Molly wouldn’t feel sick,’ Sarah muttered, her mind still on the impending change in her life.

      Molly calmly turned a page. ‘I don’t feel sick.’

      ‘And are you OK?’ her mother asked Sarah.

      Sarah let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘Of course I am, Mum.’

      Their mother exchanged a knowing glance with their father. ‘Good. I’m glad everybody’s happy so your father and I can leave you with Auntie Carol and not worry. You will have a lovely time, you know, and Dad and I can enjoy ourselves knowing you’re safe and happy. OK, girls?’

      ‘Yes, Mum,’ they chorused from the back seat.

      ‘Great. Now all’s right in the world, we can all relax.’

      The girls exchanged their own knowing smiles. There was a roll of the eyes from Sarah and an answering tut from Molly that said far more than words. Their gestures were acknowledgement of a bond that no sisterly spat could break. If she could find one at the bead shop, she might even put a little silver frog on the necklace.

      Mol wasn’t all bad and her sharp tongue was very funny. Plus, Auntie Carol was a laugh when she was in a good mood and let the girls have a glass or two of Chardonnay and watch Skins as long as they didn’t tell their parents. And her course in Falmouth would be cool, once she got used to it, and she might meet a surfer and have sex on the beach and start her own boutique jewellery business after uni … and they’d soon be at Auntie Carol’s. She pulled out her new phone and scrolled through her texts. There was a lot to look forward to. An awful lot.

      *

      Later, much much later, Sarah couldn’t remember if Molly had screamed before Sarah had looked up from her phone or the other way around. Snatches of their journey came back to her, like jumbled-up pieces of a jigsaw that had tumbled onto the carpet. In the days and weeks that followed, Sarah kept finding new pieces at random, trying to put them together in a picture but never having all the bits at one time.

      She remembered something about a surfer and a frog and the shops blurring into one another outside the car window. She recalled hearing the traffic report about chaos on the A14, then a roar and a shout from Molly. And then lights: blinding bright lights. Purply white and violet pulses that made her skull ache and her brain throb. In the snatches of consciousness after the accident, she remembered Auntie Carol sitting next to her bed, holding her hand, with mascara running down her face. And she remembered asking where Molly and her parents were but all Auntie Carol would say was: ‘I’m sorry, love. Oh God, I’m sorry.’

       CHAPTER ONE

       Almost thirteen years later

       New Year’s Eve

       Department of Behavioural Ecology, Fenland University

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