Someone You Know. Olivia Isaac-Henry

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       Chapter 1

       Tess: June 2018

      Walking home, it’s nearly light. The constant drum of water on my skull melts into the bass beats still looping through my head and the slap of my feet on the pavement. The weather’s broken, thunderstorms have driven people from the streets and I have London to myself. Almost. I can hear Edie behind me, the faint splash of her footsteps.

      I come in and drink a glass of water. Until it touches my lips, I don’t realise how thirsty I am. I down two more. Only when I finish do I notice the trail of mud and rain through the flat. I can’t be bothered to mop it up.

      In the bathroom, I rough-dry my hair and put it into a topknot, then tiptoe to the bedroom, pull on an old T-shirt and creep in next to Max. It’s my turn to take the lounge, but I can’t face a night alone on the lumpy sofa. Asleep, Max forgets we’re no longer together. He rolls over to put an arm across me and I curl up against his chest, absorbing the warmth of his body. Feeling his bulk and soft breath against my skin lets me pretend nothing has changed, until I catch the faint whiff of perfume, Chanel, not mine. Has he found someone else already? I don’t care. I can’t be alone tonight.

      I close my eyes, but sleep is far away. At some level I’m aware my body is tired and my limbs ache. But my mind is running fast. Images of bars, dancers, grubby hands grabbing at me in grubby cubicles … Then Edie. Always Edie.

      Twenty years have passed quickly, but the individual days are long and the nights even longer. Wherever I’ve been, whomever I’m with, whatever I’ve taken, it’s never enough, I always see her.

      *

      ‘Tess.’

      Edie’s voice. I sit up. My mobile’s ringing. It feels like seconds since I shut my eyes. Max’s imprint in the sheets is cold. He must have gone to the gym hours ago. Was he angry with me for sneaking in next to him when I should be on the sofa, or did he wake, his arms around me, and wish for a moment that we were still together? I look to the bedside table in hope. There’s no mug. He used to make me a cup of tea before leaving in the morning.

      The mobile’s still ringing. I pick up.

      ‘Tess, it’s Cassie. You’re late.’

      ‘Shit.’

      I look at the clock, it’s nearly ten.

      ‘Nadine’s asking for you. You better get in quick; there’s a meeting at half eleven.’

      ‘I’m on my way.’

      I roll off the bed. Pain runs up my ribs and back and I land on my knees. I slip my fingers under my T-shirt. Some of the material is stuck to me. I peel it back. The sharp sting makes me shudder. A thin scratch runs from the bottom of my shoulder blade to under my left breast and my front ribs are bruised, not too bad but a little raised. I think back but can’t remember hurting myself.

      The blood leaves a faint iron smell. And I smell. Not of me, but of other people’s clammy bodies.

      The shower is as hot as I can take it. Water and steam scald my skin, the pain doesn’t matter. I have to cleanse myself of last night.

      Afterwards, I dab at the scratch with TCP. I don’t have to worry about Max noticing now he’s broken up with me. Judging by the lingering scent of Coco Mademoiselle last night, he’s not changing his mind.

      Cassie once asked why I was with someone as dull as Max. Maybe because he is dull. He reminded me of Dad, quiet and caring. ‘Be careful of the road,’ became ‘You shouldn’t drink so much, you shouldn’t take that stuff, you don’t sleep enough or eat properly.’ I never did. He was familiar, safe and knew me from back home; he knew Edie, too. So there’s none of the awkward pauses I get when I tell people about her, a shuffle of the feet, oh I’m so sorry, then change the subject. We’re two mixed-race kids from a nowhere Midlands town who’ve lost their mothers. Mine was killed by a drunk lorry driver. Max’s ran off with his school physics teacher, Mr Kent. Max always changes the vowel. There’s nothing to hide or explain. Being with Max was easy. He’s kept me anchored. Without him, I’m worried I’ll float away, adrift in disarray. Last night was just a glimpse of the chaos waiting to swallow me up once he goes and I’m alone again. If there wasn’t three months still to run on the tenancy agreement, which neither of us can afford on our own, he’d have left already. I don’t even know where I’ll go. Back to a room in a shared house, my milk missing from the fridge, other people’s hair stuck to the side of the bath. And what else? Meeting men in bars, lost weekends, lost jobs, Dad having to come and take me home because I’ve stopped getting out of bed. I’m nearly thirty-five. Other women my age have houses, husbands and children. I’m on the verge of being homeless and alone.

      But what Max wants, moving back home and having children, terrifies me more than the chaos. How could I ever have a child and stay sane? She’d not be allowed to walk to school alone or go to sleepovers or have boyfriends. I’d never leave her side knowing one day she could disappear like Edie and I’d be left forever wondering. A child raised in a glass cage. And what sort of life is that for a child or for me? Max always thought I’d change my mind about having children. I won’t.

      My phone beeps with an incoming text. Cassie: GET A MOVE ON.

      Half an hour of dawdling between the bedroom and bathroom to clean my teeth, spray on deodorant, put on a loose-fitting blouse, jeans and strappy СКАЧАТЬ