The Fallout (12 page)

“Not long. September was so thrilled to see him.”

“Yeah, funny that he should happen to drop by when she's here.”

Josh felt disgruntled. Since when was Hannah so quick to jump to conclusions, especially ones that cast him in a negative light?

“Ta-da! What do you think?” Gemma held up a dress she'd removed from one of the tissue-paper-filled bags.

Josh eyed the wisp of black-and-red fabric, which looked altogether too insubstantial to contain the contours of his slightly chubby—sorry,
curvy—
sister-in-law.

“Lovely.”

“Josh, do you think you could sound any less enthusiastic?” asked Hannah, coming into the room bearing two mugs of tea.

“Thanks for asking. I'd love one,” he said as she handed one to Gemma and kept the other for herself.

Gemma looked from one to the other with raised eyebrows, but said nothing. Her curly hair was pushed back from her face and Josh found his eyes gravitating toward the slight indentation in her forehead, outlined by that curved, raised, silvery scar. He glanced away quickly in embarrassment, hoping she hadn't noticed.

A ring on the doorbell broke the tension.

“That's got to be Sasha,” said Hannah. “She's going to flip when she hears Dan was here. Let me tell her, okay?”

But as she was moving toward the door, they heard September squealing “Mummy!” and the sound of the front door flying open.

“Guess who was here?” the little girl said in an excited, high-pitched voice.
“Daddy!”

Seconds later, Sasha appeared in the living room with September hanging off her arm. Her face looked like it had been set in plaster.

“Dan was here?”

She was addressing Hannah, intensity radiating from her unblinking eyes.

“Yeah, it was one of those things. Dan was driving past, saw the car and dropped in.”

“Driving past from where?”

Hannah looked helplessly at Josh. “I assumed he'd been to your house. I don't know. I didn't really talk to him. Gemma and I went out. We left Dan here with Josh.”

“And with Lily and September?”

“Come on, Sasha.” Josh felt compelled to intervene. “We always said we were going to remain neutral. What were we supposed to do? Refuse to let him in?”

“I just wish you'd called me, to tell me he was here. It's very confusing for September having her father waft in and out of her life like this.”

“What's
waft
, Mummy? Why was Daddy wafting?”

Sasha switched her attention to Josh.

“Dan never just happens to be driving past. And he wouldn't have been at my house—my solicitor has sent him a letter warning him to keep away.”

“That's a bit extreme, isn't it?”

“Don't tell me how to behave!”

The room fell silent. Then September started to cry.

“It's okay, poppet.” Sasha dropped to her knees to take her daughter in her arms. “Don't be scared. Mummy just got a little cross, that's all. Silly Mummy!”

“Silly Mummy!” sniffed the little girl.

Sasha straightened up.

“Sorry,” she said. “I know it's not your fault.”

She glanced over at Gemma, as if only just taking in her presence.

“You must think I'm completely bat-shit.”

Gemma shrugged.

“You're not the only one who discovered the husband she married was abducted and replaced by an alien. I get it.”

“It happened to you, too?”

“Sadly, yes. There ought to be a universal signal so that we can recognize each other, shouldn't there—a secret handshake, like the Masons.”

Sasha smiled weakly, but Josh got the distinct impression she didn't relish the idea of being lumped together in some weird kinship with Gemma.

“No bags?” he queried in a clumsy attempt to change the subject.

Sasha looked questioningly at him.

“I thought you might have been shopping or something.”

“I do actually have other things in my life apart from shopping, you know. I was at the doctor's.”

“On a Saturday?”

Sasha made a face at him.

“The benefits of private health insurance,” she said. “I could get an appointment on sodding Christmas Day if I wanted.”

Hannah, who knew how heated Josh could get defending public health care, intervened before a row could start up.

“Did you get them?”

Sasha shot her a weary look, and Josh was shocked to see how old she looked suddenly, her skin shrunken around her cheekbones.

“Yep, I'm officially a junkie.” She picked up her handbag and shook it vigorously. “Can you hear that rattle?”

Antidepressants
, Hannah mouthed to her sister, with a nervous side glance at September.

“I was on the happy pills for years,” Gemma replied airily. “Don't think I'd have survived without them.”

“Yes, but I'm not that sort of person.” Sasha didn't seem aware of how dismissive that sounded. Not surprising, Josh thought. He'd never met a more self-absorbed person than Sasha. “I like to be in control of myself and my life. I can't bear that this is what he's done to me—turned me into yet another lobotomized housewife!”

“Charming.” Gemma didn't look pleased and Josh couldn't help feeling she wouldn't be swapping any more secret handshakes with Sasha.

“Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I don't recognize myself.” Sasha seemed now to be in a kind of trance, talking only to herself. “I look in the mirror and I think ‘Who is that little person, that nobody?
Waste of space
.'” Suddenly she contorted her mouth and made her voice deep and snarly.
“Little Miss Nobody.”

“Mummy—” September's eyes were wide and frightened, her upper lip pressing down urgently on the lower one “—you mustn't talk in that voice.”

Sasha looked down as if surprised to find her daughter there.

“Sorry, darling.” She swooped down and crushed September to her in a smothering embrace.

“Get off,” cried the child.

Lily, who'd been hovering near to Hannah, detached herself from her mother to seek out Josh. As always he felt himself soften all over at the feel of her small hand in his. He looked down at her and smiled, stroking her cheek gently with his free hand. Glancing up again, he was jolted to find September staring over at them with a fierce concentration that sent a shiver rippling through him, despite the stuffy, overheated room.

Chapter 12

“I'm sorry, madam, your card has been declined.”

“Pardon?”

The waitress, who didn't look old enough to count, let alone work an electronic till, blushed, but the smile remained bravely fixed to her face.

“Your bank has declined your card.”

Sasha blinked at the girl.

“I don't understand.”

“Perhaps a different card, madam?”

“Oh, honestly.” Sasha dug angrily around in her wallet, the one that matched her bag, before pulling out a second card. Still smiling, the waitress ran it through the machine. The smile slipped gradually down her chin as she shook her head.

“Terribly sorry, but that one doesn't work, either.”

“Don't worry, Sash. I'll pay.”

Hannah fumbled for her bank card, hoping against hope there was enough left on her overdraft to cover the lunch Sasha had generously invited her out for.

“But I don't understand,” said Sasha. Then she stopped. “That bastard. That fucking cunt bastard.”

The waitress's pale, downy cheeks turned a vivid shade of puce as she pretended to busy herself with the card machine.

“He's frozen my cards.” Sasha was gaping at Hannah, her eyes wide. “I don't fucking believe it.”

“I'm sure he wouldn't...”

Hannah trailed off because, really, she wasn't sure of any such thing. In fact, it was a possibility that had crossed her mind more than once. Josh had told her about his conversation with Dan, about Sasha's out-of-control spending and her continuing refusal to talk to him about the house or anything to do with money. It was a joint account, so he had the right to freeze it. And of course, Dan had his own separate bank account for his business.

“Bank card and credit card. How could he? How am I supposed to feed our daughter without access to any cash? What does he expect us to do, grow our own food?”

“PIN, please, madam.” The waitress slid the machine in front of Hannah and gazed off into the middle distance trying to make it seem as if she wasn't listening.

“I guess he must be using it as some sort of leverage to get you to talk about the house and the finances.”

“Leverage? Blackmail, more like it. Well, he's not getting away with it. Imagine, freezing my bank account while he swanks around in fucking Notting Hill with that
tart
. She lives in a massive big villa, you know.”

“Just a converted flat in a villa, surely? Anyway, how do you know where she lives?”

“He's still my husband, Hannah. I'm entitled to know where he is.”

As the waitress scurried gratefully away, Hannah pocketed the bill, feeling slightly sick at the amount. Sasha had always treated her in the past to lavish meals out, claiming Hannah was doing her a favor, as otherwise she'd have to eat alone like a pathetic loser with no mates. She knew Hannah and Josh struggled for money and she liked being able to treat them. Her generosity was just one of the things that had drawn Hannah to her in the first place.

Glancing at her phone, Hannah noticed the time. Shit, almost the whole workday gone, and she'd done hardly anything. She'd tried to resist the lunch, but Sasha had been so insistent, and Hannah hadn't needed much persuasion to get out of the house. Now guilt lodged inside her like something heavy and undigested. Not only had she not earned any money, but she'd also actually ended up spending money they didn't have. She gathered her things together hurriedly, only noticing as she stood up that Sasha hadn't moved. Instead she was sitting very still, staring fixedly at the single red rose in a slim vase in the middle of the table. Something about her expression, and the way she kept opening and closing her hand, rhythmically splaying out the fingers then clenching them together in a tight fist, made Hannah uneasy.

“Come on, Sash, I've got to get going.”

Still Sasha didn't respond. Sasha had already confessed the new antidepressants were doing bizarre things to her body, making her jittery and strung out, jumping to her feet late at night to drag the vacuum cleaner over the floor or clean out the enormous American-style fridge-freezer. Now it was as if her hand belonged to someone else entirely, doing its own thing while the rest of her sat staring rigidly ahead. Hannah shivered.

“Sasha, please?”

By the time they reached the car, parked at an exorbitant meter on one of the wide leafy roads behind Hampstead High Street, where they'd been eating, Sasha's mood had flipped from taciturn to hyper. Installed behind the wheel of her Toyota RAV4, she now wanted to talk. And what she wanted to talk about was Gemma.

“I know Gemma's your sister, and of course she's lovely and everything, but it must be a bit awkward sometimes.”

“What must?”

“Oh, you know, being around someone who's so jealous of you.”

Hannah swung around to face Sasha, her mouth stretched into a shocked smile.

“Oh, Hannah. It's obvious. You're tall and slim and gorgeous with a husband who adores you and a beautiful daughter, and an exciting job and a flat in a lovely part of London. She's overweight, divorced and working as a hospital administrator in the provinces.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Hannah didn't know whether to be angry or to laugh. “She's my sister. She's not jealous. She's not like that. And Oxford is hardly some boring provincial hick town.”

“I'm not saying she doesn't love you. I'm just saying she's a little bit, well...resentful. You can't blame her.”

“How on earth do you come to that conclusion?”

“It shows in everything she says—have you noticed how much she puts you down?”

“That's what sisters do!”

Sasha made a face.

“Not like that. Not all the time. And there was something...no, never mind.”

“Something what?”

“It doesn't matter, Han. I'm sure it's nothing.”

“If it doesn't matter, then there's no harm in saying it.”

Hannah was getting irritated. If Sasha had something more to say, better she came out with it, so that Hannah could dismiss it, rather than let it fester out of control in her imagination.

“I think she's, well...overly interested in your husband.”

“In Josh?”

“Do you have another husband?”

“Sasha, this is getting preposterous now.”

“Haven't you seen the way she looks at him? And there's the photograph.”

“Photograph?”

“When September was there, she saw Gemma take one of the photographs of Josh you've got on that bookcase in the living room and slip it into her bag.”

Hannah couldn't help it, she actually laughed out loud.

“That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Sash, you know perfectly well four-year-old girls are on a different planet most of the time. Half the stuff they come out with is complete rubbish.”

“Right.”

“What do you mean
right
? Why do you say it like that?”

“You believe whatever you want to believe, Hannah. It's none of my business.”

They sat largely in silence for the rest of the journey back, except for Sasha's fingers drumming on the leather steering wheel. Hannah didn't trust herself to speak. After all the support she'd given to Sasha, it seemed such a slap in the face for her to drive a wedge between her and Gemma. This was such a transparent, pathetic attempt to stir up bad feelings, it really rankled.

After driving around the block several times, they parked near the preschool. Sasha turned off the engine and they sat still for a few seconds, each gazing out the window. Sasha reached out her hand. “Sorry,” she said, feeling around for Hannah's fingers. “I shouldn't have said anything. Erase it from your mind. Forgive me?”

Hannah nodded and smiled, although she wasn't sure she could forgive so quickly. But they were at school now, and she didn't want there to be a bad atmosphere between them when they picked up the girls. They got out of the car and made their way in through the gates. Marcia Verney nodded to them but didn't come over.

As they hovered by the doorway, watching the children singing the goodbye song, Hannah was uncomfortably aware things were still not quite right between her and Sasha. There was a certain prickliness in the air. One by one the children were sung out of the classroom. September was one of the first.

“You go ahead, I'll walk home with Lily,” Hannah urged Sasha.

“Don't be silly, I'll drop you home.”

“No, really. I want the exercise.”

Sasha eyed her uncertainly. “Well, if you're sure...”

Lily was the last child left on the carpet. Hannah saw her casting her eyes around, checking she was there. She waved from the doorway and was rewarded with a huge smile that warmed her insides.

“Mrs. Hetherington? Could I have a quick word?”

Mrs. Mackenzie was beckoning her over to a little yellow octagonal table in the corner, strewn with Play-Doh models of animals with giant legs and pea-sized heads, or trunks longer than their entire bodies.

Hannah pulled up one of the tiny red chairs and sat down gingerly, her knees coming up almost to her chin. The other woman eyed her sharply through her deep-set blue eyes and then smiled, a gold filling flashing from somewhere in the back of her mouth.

“Nothing to worry about, Mrs. Hetherington, I just wanted to have a word about Lily.”

“Is she okay?”

“Oh, yes, absolutely fine. It's just she's been a wee bit...quiet lately. I wondered if anything was bothering her.”

Hannah frowned.

“When you say
quiet
, what do you mean?”

“Only that she's a bit more reluctant than usual to speak up during carpet time. More and more, September seems to be answering on her behalf, and I'm not altogether sure that's the healthiest thing for her. I do wonder sometimes if September can be a little bit, well, overprotective.”

Overprotective? Surely that was a positive thing, quite sweet if you thought about it. Yet, reading between the lines, it sounded more sinister than that.

“Do you mean like domineering?”

Mrs. Mackenzie maintained her smile.

“No, no, I wouldn't say that. It's just that September can be a forceful character and your Lily is such a shy girl sometimes.”

Hannah gazed into the teacher's eyes, trying to read her expression. Mrs. Mackenzie would never say anything negative about any of the children, but Hannah got the distinct feeling she was speaking in euphemisms, expecting Hannah to somehow translate. She thought she saw something flicker across the other woman's face, something like a warning, but it was gone almost as soon as it arrived, and Hannah wondered if she might have imagined it.

“Hello, Mummy.” Lily had materialized by her shoulder and was burrowing her face into Hannah's neck.

“Hello, pumpkin.”

Hannah felt a rush of love for her daughter so powerful it was almost overwhelming. She put her arms around the sturdy little body she knew so well, feeling a stab of nostalgia at the realization that it was noticeably less rotund than it used to be. How did other women cope, she wondered, with this terrible, primeval need to prevent anything bad from happening to their children? How did they manage the fear that came out of nowhere and caught you by the throat, leaving you breathless at the possibility—no, the
certainty
—that sooner or later, when you weren't looking, it would come: that scary thing, that angry thing, that mean thing. And all of your love, your precautions, your safeguards, would be for nothing.

“Did you have a lovely day?” she whispered into Lily's soft ear, brushing her lips against the wispy, silk-fine hair that, to her daughter's heartbreak, refused to grow more than an inch a year.

Lily nodded. “Me and Tember were angels.”

Hannah glanced up at Mrs. Mackenzie, who was watching them intently. For a moment it looked as if she was going to say something, then she changed her mind.

“I'll see you and Mummy tomorrow,” she said.