Between Friends

by Jenny Harper

  She should have been watching the results with Jake. As first one line turned blue, then the other, Marta’s heart was sore.

  She was going to have a baby. Their baby. The child they had longed for.

  Surely he would come back to her now? This made everything different.

  ‘Jane’s in hospital.’

  Carrie’s voice sounded distant. Marta strode to the window to catch the best signal on her mobile.

  ‘Say again? I can hardly hear you.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In the wilds. West of Fort William. Did you say Jane was in hospital?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘She tried to commit suicide.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘’Fraid so.’

  ‘How? Why? I mean, what happened for heaven’s sake?’

  ‘She cut her wrist.’

  Marta was struck dumb. Jane’s stutter, her crazy accusations about Emily, her erratic behaviour, all stacked up as signs of her increasing vulnerability. But suicide?

  ‘Marta? Are you still there?’

  ‘I’m here. Her wrist? You said she cut her wrist?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What was she thinking of?’

  ‘I don’t know, Marta. I’ve thought about nothing else since Neal called. Either it was an act of desperation or it was intended as a powerful message. Either way, if Neal hadn’t happened to go home she would have died.’

  ‘Oh, Carrie. Dear God in heaven. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Neal had nipped home for some file he’d forgotten. He says it was as if he was drawn home for some reason. She can’t have long done it. She was lying on the floor in the kitchen with Benji going mad. If he’d just been a few minutes later—’

  ‘Don’t. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘There was blood everywhere and she was deeply unconscious.’

  ‘Oh God!’

  ‘He managed to put on a tourniquet. The ambulance was there very fast.’

  ‘Christ, Carrie, the kids ...’

  ‘Yeah.’ Carrie went quiet. ‘There’s another thing. Her Forster was smashed.’

  ‘Her cello? I don’t understand.’

  ‘She’d been playing it.’

  ‘Really? But she never played it. She’s avoided playing it ever since she left the orchestra.’

  ‘I know. Neal wants us to go see her. Whatever is troubling Jane, he thinks it’s deep and longstanding. He believes there’s something she’s not telling anyone.’

  ‘And he thinks she’ll tell us?’

  ‘I think he sees us as his last hope. She’s not opening up to him. He’s tried.’

  ‘Is she still in hospital?’

  ‘They gave her some blood and stitched her up. They’re going to send her home later today. ’

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Hospital’s no place to linger.’

  ‘True. Listen, I’ll be back in a couple of days. We’ll go round when everyone’s out, shall we?’

  ‘I think her mother’s staying.’

  ‘Oh. Okay.’

  Carrie was about to ring off when Marta said, ‘I need to talk too.’

  ‘Anything in particular?’

  ‘Oh ... you know.’

  ‘You know is permissible. You know is good. We’ll talk about you know by all means. Take good care of Mr McGraw.’

  ‘That’s easy.’

  ‘Yeah. Bye.’

  ‘Bye Carrie. Hugs.’

  ‘Hugs to you too.’

  Marta sat thinking for a long time. One way or another, her world was turning upside down.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Jane was lying in her bed, half asleep, half awake. On the table beside her a cup of tea was cooling slowly. She’d heard her mother bringing it in, but hadn’t been able to rouse herself.

  Depression had settled around her, a dark cloud that medication was failing to shift. She had no energy, no interest in anything. She couldn’t bring herself to make any effort with her children. Above all, she was still carrying her secret.

  And now she had yet another reason to feel guilty: she had tried to commit suicide.

  She rolled over and pulled herself up. The bedroom looked much the same as always. The walls had been covered with woodchip paper and painted magnolia many years ago. They’d been meaning to redecorate ever since they’d moved in, but there had never been the time or the money.

  One door of the wardrobe stood ajar, revealing chaos inside. The top of the chest of drawers where Neal kept his clothes was barely visible under an avalanche of abandoned ties, cuff links, hairbrushes, paperwork of various kinds, aftershave, a camera, a mug – how long had that been there? The other chest, which she used as a makeshift dressing table, was scarcely better. Earrings vied with make-up for space and the entire contents of a handbag lay heaped in one corner, exactly where she had emptied it out weeks ago. The whole scene was dismal but, even so, there was something reassuring in its familiarity.

  How could she have cut her wrist like that? Everything that had been troubling her then was troubling her still, yet she could no more lift a knife and slash her wrist now than walk a tightrope across the Niagara Falls.

  She knew the answer – it was the music. The music had breathed air into every ember of emotion, giving it the oxygen it needed to ignite.

  ‘Mum?’

  Ross’s head poked tentatively round the door.

  ‘Come in, darling.’

  He ran across the room and folded himself onto the bottom of the bed.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine. I’ll get up in a minute. Thank you for coming to see me.’

  ‘I want you to be better.’

  ‘I’m getting better, Ross.’

  The door swung open again and Emily slid in, her hair half concealing her face, her thin arms like pale wands.

  ‘Hello darling.’

  They used to come in like this, all her children, on Sunday mornings and on special days, jostling and squealing for position on the bed. In recent years, only Ian had kept up the tradition.

  Emily crossed her legs underneath her. Her hand went to her hair and she starting twisting a strand of it between her fingers, a sure sign that something was troubling her.

  ‘Em? What is it?’

  ‘Ross and me ...’ she started uncertainly, then halted and looked at her brother, biting her lip.

  ‘Is it our fault, Mum?’ she blurted out.

  ‘Your fault? No, darlings, no, no, no. You mustn’t think that, not ever.’

  Ross drew in a deep breath. ‘I lied to you and Dad. About Em. She asked me to cover up for her and—’ he paused, then added with endearing honesty, ‘—I made her lend me her iPod and promise to buy me tickets for the football. But I didn’t think it would end like this.’

  ‘Oh, Ross.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’ He turned to Emily. ‘I never thought you’d get like that, you know, in hospital and all.’

  Emily said, ‘It wasn’t your fault, Ross. I did it all by myself.’

  ‘With a little help from Marta Davidson,’ Jane added bitterly.

  Emily looked at her, her brown eyes wide with surprise.

  ‘Marta? How?’

  ‘Oh come on, Emily. Marta encouraged you to disobey your father and me.’

  ‘No, she didn’t.’

  ‘She encouraged you to get your hair dyed, though she must have known we wouldn’t have been happy. She bought you clothes she must have known we wouldn’t approve of. And heaven knows why she covered up for you after Suzy’s party.’

  Emily shook her head vigorously.

  ‘No. You’ve got it all wrong. I told her you wouldn’t mind. I told her that it would be all right at school. And I persuaded her to buy me the clothes. She was sweet, Mum, honest. I don’t know what I’d have done without her after Suzy’s party, I was so scared. And I lied to her – I told her that I’d already texted yo
u to let you know where I was.’

  ‘But why did you do that?’

  ‘Because I knew you and Dad would be furious. I thought if I got home early enough the next day, you need never know.’

  ‘Oh Em. Darling.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum. Truly.’

  Ross, squirming, said, ‘Me too.’

  ‘Listen to me—’

  Jane reached out and grasped Emily’s right hand, Ross’s left. To her surprise, Ross’s free hand shot out and grabbed Emily’s, so that they were joined in a circle.

  ‘—Your dad and I, we love you. We love all of you, very much. Maybe we don’t do everything right, but we do try. I’m sorry, Emily, if you didn’t feel able to talk to us about how you were feeling. Ross, I’m sorry that you felt you had to lie. But there’s one thing you must understand.’

  She hesitated. How to explain her actions to them? It was so complicated, and so not something that two children should have to come to terms with.

  ‘I haven’t been well. There was something – a shadow in my head, if you like – that made me act oddly. It’s gone. It has passed. And it was my shadow, nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Honest?’

  ‘Honest. Now, let’s move on, shall we? All of us? Family hug?’

  As she folded them into her arms, it occurred her that perhaps she needed to think again, that perhaps her friends were not the cause of her woes – that maybe the cause lay within herself.

  She stroked Emily’s hair. Her daughter was painfully like her. What would her ghost baby have been like?

  She had lied to her children. The pain inside her would never go away. But to move forward, she did have to confront it.

  When the doorbell rang a few days later, Jane was up and about. Always slim, she’d lost more weight, so that her jeans hung loosely round her hips and the white T-shirt flapped limply around her small breasts. Benji barked excitedly and ran to the door. Jane, following him reluctantly, caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her face was pale and there were dark circles around her eyes. Her hair looked lank and lifeless. She was in no state to receive visitors.

  Carrie and Marta stood together on her doorstep.

  ‘Hi, Jane, can we come in?’

  ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Hi,’ Jane said, her voice weak with surprise.

  In the kitchen, she made tea, but didn’t touch her own. She stared down at her hands instead, twisting them round each other, first this way, then that, kneading the fingers, rubbing the knuckles.

  Carrie spoke first. ‘We were so shocked when Neal called to tell us. How are you feeling?’

  Jane gave a quick, sidelong glance at Carrie’s solemn face.

  ‘Why did you do it, Jane?’ Marta asked, extending her hand and touching Jane’s arm lightly.

  She gave a low moan and buried her face in her hands. Her body was beginning to tremble. Someone – Carrie? – shoved back her chair. She heard the scraping on the floor, then felt arms around her.

  All her emotions were replaced by anger and she pushed Carrie away fiercely.

  ‘Don’t pretend to care, Carrie. It’s so hypocritical.’

  ‘Jane, don’t.’

  ‘We were supposed to be friends, weren’t we? Friends forever, that’s what I thought. But you stole T-Tom. I loved him then, more than anything, and you stole him. How could you, Carrie?’

  Carrie sat down abruptly.

  ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘He loved me. He loved me. He loved me until you came along.’

  ‘No, Jane. Listen to me. Tom swore he’d already told you he was leaving. I promise you, Jane, I swear it on my own life. That’s how it was. I would never have stolen him from you. Your friendship meant everything to me. It always has. Tom told me that you had been growing apart for ages, that he was looking for somewhere else to live, that you and he agreed.’

  ‘It’s not true,’ Jane’s voice cracked as anger and hurt battled with a yearning for resolution. ‘I had n-no idea.’

  ‘Well, I guess that doesn’t surprise me,’ Carrie said. ‘Tom Vallely is a lying, cowardly, manipulative bastard. Do you know something, Jane? He deceived both of us. He made me believe he was in love with me, that he was just waiting for the right moment to tell you he was leaving – and then he went off and married someone else. I couldn’t believe it. I was so angry, I could have strung him up. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you’d disappeared.’

  She paused and glanced briefly at Marta. ‘Did you know that it was because of Tom Vallely that I decided I wasn’t going to get involved in a serious relationship again?’

  ‘You’re joking.’ Jane stared at Carrie in surprise.

  ‘Nope. I decided I’d concentrate on my career for a while, then I discovered that actually, I quite liked being in control of my life.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry, Jane, it’s just the way it happened. My punishment, if you like, for cheating on you.’

  ‘He’s even more of a b-bastard than I thought he was.’

  Marta leaned forward.

  ‘It’s my fault. I was totally taken in by him. I didn’t know any of this, only that you’d split up – amicably I thought – and it seemed like a fun idea to stage a reunion.’

  Jane said slowly, ‘No, Marta. It’s brought it all to the surface but maybe that’s not a b-bad thing. There’s something I’ve never told anyone. I didn’t think I ever would but Tom—’ she stopped, then said softly, ‘Tom is threatening to tell Neal and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Tell Neal what?’

  ‘You can tell us, Janie.’

  Jane stood up and walked across to the window. She straightened the bottle of washing-up liquid, spotted a mark on the sill, took a cloth from the cupboard and scrubbed at it, replaced the cloth, then finally, unable to find any more jobs to do, turned to face them.

  ‘When Tom left me,’ she said, ‘I was p-p-p-pregnant.’

  ‘Pregnant?’ Marta asked, bewildered.

  Carrie said softly, ‘Oh Jane – is that why you went off radar?’

  Jane’s laugh was sour. ‘When I found out, I thought it might bring Tom back. Not a chance, of course. He didn’t want to know. He even questioned the p-paternity. I got desperate. I didn’t know what to do. I’d let down my p-parents. They’d sacrificed so m-much for me and I’d thrown it all away. I decided to go ahead and terminate. I thought that would solve everything.’

  ‘You went through all this on your own? Oh Jane—’

  ‘Someone in the orchestra gave me names, contact details, phone numbers. I called one, visited a clinic, went through a mind-numbing series of talks and consultations, and made a d-decision.’

  Marta muttered something.

  Carrie was more audible. She said, ‘Jesus.’

  ‘I lied to the clinic when they asked me if someone was meeting me. I didn’t think it would be that bad. It was just a simple operation.’

  She buried her face in her hands. ‘I thought that termination would solve all my problems but I couldn’t have been more wrong.’

  She fished in her pocket for a tissue and scrubbed roughly at her eyes.

  ‘It haunted me. I guess I had a kind of breakdown, only I didn’t know that. There was no-one to tell me ... no friends...’

  ‘Oh Jane—’

  ‘I handed in my n-notice at the orchestra.’ She flashed a crooked smile at Marta. ‘Worst thing I could have done, I suppose, but I was in no state to make rational judgements, I just wanted to hide. From everybody.’

  ‘I wish—’

  ‘I left my cello with one of the flautists, packed what I could in a suitcase and posted a letter to my p-parents telling them I’d been offered work abroad. Then I hopped on the first train I saw – it went to M-Manchester.’

  ‘How did you live, for heaven’s sake?’

  Jane shrugged. ‘I found a room in a small hostel and a job in a supermarket. That was it. I went to
ground. I was hardly functioning, I wasn’t talking to anyone, I didn’t go anywhere. I was barely existing.’

  The silence stretched on forever.

  Marta, sitting with her hands on her stomach, as though she was feeling the loss herself, broke it first. ‘How did you manage, all alone?

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us, Jane?’ Carrie asked.

  Jane began to cry.

  Carrie crossed to where she was standing and folded her into her arms.

  ‘You poor, poor thing.’

  ‘I killed it, Carrie. I’ve never forgotten what I did. I m-murdered that baby.’

  ‘Ssshh...’

  Carrie tried to soothe her. Marta was hugging herself tightly. She looked drawn and pale.

  ‘I killed it because I couldn’t cope. I couldn’t put my p-parents through that. They never knew. I did it to avoid the shame. How could I have d-done it, Carrie?’

  The words were barely audible, they came out as strangled sobs.

  ‘I’ve never told anyone. I kept thinking it would go away and I’d get better. But it didn’t, it got worse and worse and when I saw T-Tom again—’

  ‘Ssshh...ssshh...’

  ‘I couldn’t stand it. I simply couldn’t ... I’m so sorry, so sorry... so...’

  Her words were muffled in Carrie’s chest as she curled forwards and buried her head in the warmth of her friend’s sweater.

  ‘The darkness closed round me again, like it did when I had the abortion. It all came back, every detail. All those months in that ghastly room in that grim hostel in Manchester, all those months working my guts out in that shabby supermarket, and not able to play my m-m-music any more, not able to even listen...’

  ‘Ssshh... it’s all right, Jane. We know now. We understand. We still love you.’

  ‘And the worst thing is,’ her voice rose to a wail, ‘I’ve never told Neal. He’s always been so against abortion. I can’t b-bear to think of what he’d say.’

  ‘He’ll understand, Jane. Neal loves you.’

  ‘I’ve never wanted to risk it. It might change the way he feels about me and I couldn’t go on if he left me.’