The Broken (18 page)

‘You’re just jealous,’ sang Sasha.

Hannah, who was only holding it together by a thread, was relieved when another door opened and she was able to push past Sasha and lock herself away in a cubicle, leaning her head back against the wall, only now aware that she was trembling, her calves visibly shaking through those stupid frumpy jeans. Why had she agreed to come? Sasha was a liability, a joke. Why had she ever thought they had anything in common? Only now could Hannah see the truth about their friendship, that it had been based solely upon convenience and desperation, and a simple need for company. They had different values, different politics (Hannah would never forget Sasha’s shrieks of derision when she told her she’d voted Green in the local elections. Sasha hadn’t even bothered to vote at all), even a different sense of humour.

Hannah emerged from the cubicle resolved to tell Sasha that she was going home. After that she’d begin the process of disentangling herself from their relationship. Her resolve lasted just as long as it took to catch sight of Sasha sitting in a crumpled heap on the filthy toilet floor, her dress hitched up her thighs, black mascara streaking down her cheeks, her face a mess of tears and snot.

‘Oi, you need to get your friend home, you do,’ said a disapproving girl, frozen in the act of reapplying her lipstick by the cracked sink, her hair pulled up into a ponytail so tight it gave her eyes an oriental appearance. ‘You should never have let her get into this state. It’s a fucking disgrace. What kind of friend are you?’

‘She’s my best friend,’ sobbed Sasha from the floor. ‘Leave her alone.’

Hannah felt something tugging at her insides. What was happening to her lately? She’d always prided herself on her loyalty. At school she’d always been the one the other girls would confide in when they had a problem they didn’t want anyone else to know about, yet she’d been about to turn her back on Sasha just because she was having a tough time.

‘Come on,’ she said softly, bending to put an arm around the still-weeping Sasha. ‘Let’s get you home.’

‘I should think so an’ all,’ remarked the girl with the ponytail.

Hannah, who had hauled Sasha to her feet and was supporting her on one side, turned to glare at her. ‘How dare you judge her? You don’t know anything about her life and what she’s going through. You should be fucking ashamed.’ The expletive came out sounding prissy, as if she were a child trying out swearing for the first time.

The girl shook her head, unmoved, the ponytail swinging vigorously from side to side. ‘We’ve all got our problems, sweetheart. But some of us have got a bit of pride as well.’

Outside the club, Sasha was sick into a bin, her bony shoulder blades jutting pale and sharp in the semi-darkness. Hannah held back her hair and stroked her back, and tried not to meet the bouncers’ eyes. Two cabs pulled up, saw the state of Sasha and sped off again, and the third only agreed to take them when Hannah offered to pay for the car to be valeted if Sasha threw up in it.

On the way back to Crouch End, through streets lined with scantily clad women, many in a similar state to Sasha, and groups of men laughing over-loudly to compensate for not having pulled, Hannah kept her hand on Sasha’s and willed the night to be over.

‘Sash,’ she ventured at one time, sneaking a glance at her friend, who was compressed into a corner of the backseat of the cab like a cornered cat. ‘You know that guy . . . Ed?’

Hannah shot a nervous look at the driver, a squat, bearded man, who was fiddling impatiently with his radio, trying to find a station that didn’t offend him.

Sasha made a non-committal noise in reply.

‘You were . . . you know . . .
careful
, weren’t you?’

Sasha groaned, shrinking still further into the grubby upholstery of the car. Hannah decided not to pursue the subject, but she couldn’t stop thoughts of Sasha and Ed and what had happened in the toilet from surging around her head. It was disgusting. So distasteful and seedy. Like animals mating in public. No self-control. No pride – that awful girl had been right about that. Where was Sasha’s self-respect? To let that man reach out his knotted muscly arms with that stupid tattoo and put his hand up her tiny dress and slide those loose jeans down over his hips. Did they do it standing up, pressed together in that minuscule cubicle, stifling breaths and moans in each other’s skin and hair? Or maybe he was sitting down on the toilet seat – no lid, mind, probably to discourage drug-taking – and she astride him. Hannah pictured Sasha lowering herself on to his thighs, his tanned arms reaching round to guide her down as her dress rode up her thighs. Obscene. That’s what it was.

And yet . . . oh God.

‘You don’t have to come in. Just drop me off.’

It was the first time Sasha had spoken properly since they’d left the toilets, and her words sounded slurred and heavy, as if they were being dragged from her against her will.

‘Don’t be stupid. I’m seeing you home.’

‘No. I . . .’

‘Forget it, Sasha. I’m not letting you go in on your own. Anyway, I’m desperate for the loo. I’ll come in and walk home from here. It’s only a few minutes.’

She wasn’t desperate for the loo, but it was the only way she could stop Sasha arguing with her. Not that she particularly wanted to go to Sasha’s house, but she knew she’d feel bad if she left her to deal with a babysitter in this state. It would be so humiliating.

‘Who’ve you got babysitting?’

Sasha looked blank.

‘Your babysitter? Who is it?’

Sasha shrugged. ‘Katia.’

The word was so indistinctly spoken as to almost not be a word at all, just a sludge of sound.

‘Katia?’ Hannah frowned. ‘That’s weird, isn’t it? She never normally babysits.’

Sasha shrugged again, and retreated into silence as the cab driver drew bad-temperedly up outside her house. Hannah rifled through her purse for cash, baulking at the twenty-five pounds he demanded.

‘Can’t find the key.’ Sasha sat down on her doorstep, practically inhaling the contents of her handbag.

‘Oh, give it here.’

Hannah snatched the bag from her, eventually locating the doorkey in an inside pocket and letting them in.

‘Katia!’ she called as she helped Sasha into the hallway.

No answer. She walked into the living room. Nothing, although the television was on – a re-run of a news quiz show, it looked like. A strange choice for a woman with a very limited grasp of English.

‘No sign of her,’ Hannah remarked as Sasha lurched into the room and flopped down heavily on the chaise longue.

‘She’s staying the night. I told her to go to bed.’

Hannah was taken aback. Sasha never had people staying the night. She was so particular about everything, so controlling. Although she had her own en suite, she’d confessed to Hannah once that even the sight of other people’s toothbrushes in the guest bathroom made her gag. ‘It defiles it. Do you know what I mean?’

‘I’ll be off then. I’ll just go to the loo.’

Hannah went to the bathroom on the ground floor. She was surprised to find the door to the guest room wide open and the room quite empty. She gazed around at its grey Farrow & Ball painted walls, as if she might find Katia hiding there, somehow camouflaged against them.

‘Where did you say Katia was sleeping?’ she asked, re-entering the living room.

Sasha, who had kicked off her inhospitable shoes and was lying back on the chaise longue, put one hand up over her face. She had her eyes shut, but Hannah had the distinct impression that she was far from asleep.

‘Sasha!’ she prompted, loudly. ‘Where’s Katia?’

‘Hmm . . .?’ Sasha murmured, as if she’d just woken up.

‘Katia!’ Hannah snapped.

Sasha opened her eyes just a fraction. ‘She’s upstairs in Dan’s office. Or rather, Dan’s
former
office,’ she said languorously. ‘I told her to sleep on the sofa there, so she could be nearer September.’

‘Oh.’

But something still didn’t feel right.

‘I’ll just pop up and check, shall I? Make sure September is OK.’

That woke her up all right. Sasha sat up with such alacrity her head seemed to jerk backwards. ‘Leave her alone. She’s fine.’

Hannah, who was already halfway across the room, stopped, stunned at the sudden ferocity in the other woman’s voice.

‘Didn’t mean to jump at you,’ said Sasha, not getting up. ‘September’s been so tired. I don’t want to risk her waking up. That’s all.’

As Hannah made her way down the outside steps, she couldn’t shake off a sense of misgiving. It was so unlikely that Sasha should have asked Katia to babysit in the first place, let alone to stay over upstairs in what had previously been Dan’s office, a hallowed space that Dan had always fiercely guarded. Of course, no one could blame Sasha now that Dan had left her for letting anyone she wanted sleep there. And yet it seemed so strange, so out of character. But then again, why would she lie about it? Unless . . .

But no. Hannah wouldn’t allow herself to go any further. People like her and Sasha, they put their kids first. Always. She was allowing the weirdness of the evening to play tricks on her imagination. Sasha might have been a complete liability tonight, but she was a good mother. She’d never do anything to put September at risk.

It was a moonless night and the street was deserted, the huge houses looming monstrous out of the darkness on both sides. Hannah’s stupid going-out boots made a clicking noise on the pavement as she walked, the echo shockingly loud in the silent urban landscape. A shape appeared from between two parked cars up ahead and Hannah’s heart lurched painfully in her chest. A large fox, its white breast luminous under a dim street light, blocked the path. It stared out at her impassive, unmoving. Hannah stopped, holding her breath. For what seemed like minutes, but could only really have been a few seconds, Hannah and the fox stared at each other in the still early-morning air. Then it turned and disappeared from view as noiselessly as it had arrived.

Hannah carried on her way, her hand curled tightly around her mobile phone, the sound of her own blood deafening in her ears.

15

‘No way. Absolutely not.’

‘I didn’t say we were doing it, I just said maybe we should think about it.’

‘OK. I’ve thought about it, and the answer is no way.’

Josh frowned, his hands gripping the steering wheel in the way Hannah seemed to find irrationally offensive (
‘the ten-to-two position is for learners, Josh,’ she’d once berated him during an argument, ‘not for proper grown-ups’
). Had Hannah always been so dogmatic? He tried to remember. But as so often these days, he found it next to impossible to think back to a time when things were uncomplicated and his relationship with Hannah wasn’t refracted through the prism of Dan and Sasha’s separation.

‘Look, I don’t like the way Dan has behaved any more than you. But what’s done is done. He’s obviously not going to change his mind about this woman, so either we accept that, or we tell him to piss off altogether.’

‘We can accept it without having to become best friends with them.’

‘He just asked if he could bring her round for a coffee or if we’d pop round there. Why must you always overreact?’

They continued in silence, both gazing out fixedly through the windscreen, the weight of their resentment causing the little car to feel like a pressure cooker. One wrong word and the whole thing could explode.

‘Look,’ Josh tried again, ‘we’re in a really difficult position here. We’re not only friends of Sasha and Dan, we’re also very fond of September, and we’ve got to think of what’s best for her. Sasha has still only let Dan see her a couple of times, in return for unfreezing the bank card, and even then it was only on the condition that they stayed at their house. I mean, how easy can it be to repair bridges with your daughter when your ex-wife is standing right there rolling her eyes at everything you say? September needs to spend time on her own with her father, especially since, as you’ve said yourself, you’re concerned about how Sasha is behaving towards her.’

‘That isn’t what I said.’

‘Yes, you did, you said you were worried Sasha might have gone out and left her without a babysitter.’

‘I was tired. I wasn’t thinking properly. Of course she wouldn’t do that.’

‘Yeah, but the fact that it even crossed your mind means there’s something not right. Sasha is not prioritizing September at the moment.’

Hannah swung her head towards him, mouth open. ‘
Prioritizing
? This is not some business strategy meeting, Josh. These are our friends’ lives we’re talking about. God, sometimes you sound just like someone off
The Apprentice.
’

‘Failure is not an option.’ Josh meant to lighten the atmosphere by quoting a line from the TV show, but it fell flat, like practically everything he said to his wife at the moment. Of course, it didn’t help that they were on their way to visit his parents, which always made Hannah tense. Not that they were ever anything less than lovely to her. And of course they adored Lily – currently fast asleep in the back with Toby the dachshund’s head cradled on her lap. But he knew Hannah found the neat, quiet suburban house near Leicester oppressive, and was secretly convinced she found his parents, with their fixed habits and their felt-pen-ticked copy of the
Radio Times
, depressingly dull.

Hannah sighed loudly, setting Josh’s teeth on edge.

‘OK,’ she said, her tone more conciliatory. ‘I know Sasha has been distracted recently. Who wouldn’t be? But I take your point about September needing a bit of continuity and stability. She needs to see her father. Which doesn’t mean to say she needs to meet his new girlfriend as well. But I suppose we will have to meet her at some stage, if he’s really serious about her.’

Josh felt a curious mixture of vindication and fear. He was glad that she’d seen things his way (for once!). But at the same time, the thought that they might actually get to meet the woman he’d seen in the photo on Dan’s phone, with her carelessly tousled hair and her endless brown legs, made him feel strangely anxious.