In the week leading up to the performance of our show in drama, Vicky ran away from home. Her mum phoned my house, frantic with worry, saying Vicky left the previous night and hadn't been home since. They had argued about her seeing her boyfriend (boyfriend? What boyfriend?) and she had stormed out.
Immediately, I tried her mobile phone, but it was turned off. Of course. I even visited Cannonfield to see if she was there, but no such luck.
About 5 hours later, at 7 o clock that evening, I got another call from her mum to confirm Vicky was home safe. Worry over, thank God.
I was lying in bed that night, in a completely depressed state, blaming myself for the fact I was constantly single and Vicky constantly... wasn't. I wonder what the new guy's name is?
Just as I was drifting off, my phone began vibrating on the shelf next to me. I glanced at the time - 11:27pm and then the caller ID - Vicky Mumford.
As quickly as my tired muscles would allow, I picked up the phone, hoping she was responding to the 50-odd missed calls she must have had.
"Kate?" her voice was little more than a whisper. "I just had sex."
"What!?" I almost shouted it, but refrained because the household was asleep. "With who? Where? When? What!?"
"With Kieran. My boyfriend. On Cannonfield. At 6 o clock."
No way. At 6, it wasn't even dark. What the HELL was she THINKING?
I tried to voice my emotions, but all that came out was:
"How long have you been seeing him?"
"2 days," she threw the comment aside as though it were nothing. "It was fucking amazing though."
"Oh. Great. Well I hope you two are very happy together," I said, not bothering to keep the bitterness from my voice.
I hung up and grabbed my scissors.