The Great Escape

by Fiona Gibson

  It’s only a few doors away. He dives in, startling the girl at reception and barks, ‘What room are they in?’

  ‘Sorry?’ the girl says, frowning.

  ‘Er, I think Hannah booked it. Hannah McShane – there’s three of them. One’s my girlfriend. What’s their room number?’

  The girl blinks at her screen. ‘It’s 232 but I’m not supposed to –’

  ‘Thanks,’ he says, turning to run up the stairs to the second floor. He arrives at the girls’ door and gives it a firm rap. ‘Lou?’ he says in an urgent whisper. ‘It’s me! Quick, let me in …’

  There’s a muffled exchange inside the room, and an agonising few seconds tick by as he waits. As the door opens slowly, he’s already spilling it out: about the chipped guitar and Terry being different these days, totally over-reacting, wanting money off him … Spike tails off and peers around the room, first at Lou who’s perched on the edge of her bed like a little doll – a doll with red, puffy eyes. ‘Lou?’ he croaks. ‘What … what’s up?’

  Lou remains silent, her mouth set in a firm straight line, and beside her, Sadie regards him with a caustic gaze. ‘I think you know what’s up,’ Lou spits out.

  ‘What? No … I really don’t …’ Something tightens in Spike’s stomach as he sees Lou inhaling deeply, drawing herself up, becoming stronger and a little less doll-like, in fact, no longer doll-like at all. She wipes a hand across her wet cheek and juts out her chin. ‘You missed a call while you were out,’ she tells him. ‘You left your mobile here in your rucksack.’

  ‘Er, did I?’ He quickly skims the room for it, trying to ignore Hannah, who’s staring at him icily.

  ‘It’s over there,’ Lou adds, pointing to the dressing table. ‘Astrid called.’

  ‘Uh?’ He tries to form an expression of incredulity, as if Astrid is someone he knows vaguely – has maybe run into once or twice – but that he’d be no more perplexed if Barack Obama had called him.

  ‘You know,’ Lou continues, her voice eerily steady now. ‘Astrid. She left you a voicemail message.’

  ‘Did she?’ he says faintly, finding it all too much being trapped in this dingy room with three pairs of eyes beaming hatred at him.

  ‘Yes, you’ll see it’s been played,’ Lou goes on, ‘but you can listen to it again if you want. It’s not good news, though. It’s definitely over between you two. She doesn’t feel good about you having a girlfriend, and anyway, she’s met someone else.’

  ‘Jesus,’ he blurts out. ‘It’s not … it’s not what you think, okay? It was nothing! Look, can we talk, Lou – just me and you? Can we go somewhere …’

  ‘You can,’ Lou cuts in, her eyes glistening with tears once more, but tears of fury, not hurt. ‘You can get out of here right now and go home.’

  ‘But … but I can’t!’ he cries. ‘Please. Hannah, Sadie, could you just give us a few minutes? We really need to talk about this. I can explain …’

  ‘Why can’t you go home, Spike?’ Hannah asks coolly.

  ‘Because I lost my wallet and all the money I made busking was gone by the time I went back to get the guitar case …’

  ‘Guess you’ll be walking to York then,’ Lou says firmly. ‘Now get out, Spike. Just get the hell out.’

  SIXTY-TWO

  The hotel pool is called ‘The Lap of Luxury’ which must, Hannah thinks, be someone’s idea of a joke. It’s deep in the bowels of the basement, is barely larger than the average tablecloth and has a distinct air of being underused. While there’s no discernable algae on the water’s surface, there’s a faint whiff of damp costumes and smelly feet.

  Lou and Sadie are already in the jacuzzi by the time Hannah joins them, heads resting on its tiled edge. ‘You okay, Lou?’ she asks gently, stepping into the feebly bubbling water.

  Lou smiles stoically. ‘Yes, I think so. I’m just sorry this has screwed up your weekend.’

  ‘It hasn’t,’ Hannah declares. ‘We’ve found Johnny again, haven’t we?’

  ‘Anyway,’ Sadie cuts in, placing a hand on Lou’s arm, ‘it’s not as if you could help it – Spike turning up like that.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Hannah adds tentatively, ‘it’s for the best, Lou. That you found out, I mean. Have you any idea how long it’s been going on?’

  Lou shakes her head. ‘A while, I think. It sounded that way from her voicemail message …’

  Hannah studies her friend, cautious of saying anything negative about Spike. She’s seen enough friends split with long-term boyfriends and have everyone pitch in with how despicable they always thought he was, only for them to promptly get back together again and make babies. ‘So,’ she says, ‘is this it, d’you think?’

  ‘God, yes.’ Lou looks at Hannah, her expression defiant. ‘You know my only regret?’ Her eyes moisten now, and she rubs her wet fingers across them.

  ‘What is it?’ Hannah takes hold of her hand.

  ‘There was this one time, years ago now, when I thought Spike might be having a thing with someone else. I can’t even remember her name, but she had a blonde plait coiled on top of her head like some kind of weird loaf thing. She came to that party we had – the last one in Garnet Street …’

  ‘I remember her,’ Hannah says.

  ‘There was something that night,’ Lou continues. ‘That girl spent most of the party smoking in the kitchen, but now and again I’d see her give Spike this look, and he’d give her a look back, and I just had this … hunch. And I told myself it was probably nothing, or I’d drunk too much and was feeling emotional because you were leaving, Han.’ She pauses, stretching her toes out of the water. ‘Now,’ Lou adds, ‘I know that hunches are usually right.’

  ‘Why didn’t you ask him about that girl?’ Hannah asks gently.

  ‘Because,’ Lou shrugs, ‘I was in love, I was twenty-two and stark raving mad. And my parents thought he was awful, remember – some dirty old man who’d got me in his clutches and God knows what he was going to do with me.’ She laughs bitterly. ‘So I couldn’t believe he was cheating. I kept thinking, if I could push any niggling doubts out of my mind, everything would be okay.’

  ‘Well,’ Sadie murmurs, ‘I reckon you’ve had a lucky escape.’

  ‘You know what I think?’ Hannah adds.

  ‘What?’ Lou asks.

  ‘We need to get out for a bit. Blow the cobwebs away.’

  ‘What’ve you got in mind?’ Sadie asks.

  ‘Well …’ Hannah grins. ‘I hadn’t really planned to do this on our weekend away. But then, I hadn’t imagined any of this – us meeting Felix, finding Johnny again, Spike turning up …’

  ‘It should just be three of us for a while,’ Sadie declares.

  ‘I was thinking that too,’ Hannah says, ‘especially as Felix wants us to pop into the bar later tonight.’

  ‘Dare I go back?’ Sadie shudders.

  ‘Of course,’ Hannah laughs. ‘But let’s get dry and make the most of the rest of the day.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ Lou wants to know.

  ‘Just a little jaunt. We should get moving though, because we’ve got to to be at Felix’s at ten …’

  ‘What’s with the schedule?’ Lou asks, frowning.

  Hannah turns to her and smiles. ‘You’ll see.’

  The red-lipsticked girl at reception had told Hannah about the nearest car hire place, tucked away in an industrial unit by the Clyde. They are finally doing it – heading north to Loch Lomond, like they’d always planned to as students – music blaring as they leave the city behind. Hannah is driving, feigning confidence as she has never been behind the wheel of a Beetle before. There was no choice, though. In fact there’d only been one available – not red like Johnny’s dented old model but unashamedly pink. Hannah rarely drives in London but now, as the glassy-smooth loch comes into view, she realises she’s lost her customary nervousness behind the wheel. Lou inhales a lungful of cool air as they follow the twisting road alongside the loch. For the moment, Spike and her dingy flat feel a long wa
y away. ‘I’m going to redecorate when I get back,’ she announces suddenly, turning to Sadie.

  ‘Are you? You mean, so it feels like a fresh start?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Lou laughs, her gaze caught by a speedboat zipping across the water. ‘Some people get their hair chopped short when they split up with a boyfriend. And here I am, thinking of light blue for the living room …’

  ‘You’re going to do it yourself?’ Hannah asks.

  Lou nods. ‘Remember how many times we discussed getting rid of that orange wallpaper in Garnet Street?’

  ‘And all the times we said we’d persuade Johnny to drive us up here? We never got around to that either,’ Sadie chuckles. ‘Why didn’t we just do it?’

  ‘Too busy,’ Lou suggests with a smirk.

  ‘Too busy doing what?’ Sadie asks.

  Lou looks at her friends, knowing they’ll have to turn back soon to return the car, and that this, like every tiny chapter of their lives, will soon be over. That’s the thing about being young, she reflects: you really do think everything will carry on, just the way it is, like the winding road they’re following now. But life changes and everyone grows up. None of them would dream of straining wine through tights any more. Well, maybe Spike would, if he was really desperate. ‘How could we possibly have thought we were busy?’ Hannah muses, slowing to take a perilous turn. ‘What were we doing anyway?’

  Lou laughs, pulling out the band that’s been securing her hair. ‘Just living, I guess,’ she says.

  SIXTY-THREE

  For a brief period in his early twenties, Spike had been assigned a car and driver by his record company. This driver, an elderly man called George, was at Spike’s beck and call, ferrying him from venue to venue for interviews and TV performances. Although that was twenty-odd years ago now, Spike still recalls the Merc’s soft Caramac-hued leather and the back of George’s reassuringly grey, neatly-clipped hair as he drove. If he really concentrates, he can almost spirit himself back to those happier times, which is precisely what he’s trying to do now from the passenger seat of a van filled with rolls of carpet that’s being driven at a terrifying speed by a man called Ralph.

  ‘You like Judas Priest?’ Ralph barks, jolting Spike from a semi-slumber. He suspects it’s rude to sleep, or even feign sleep, when hitchhiking. Ralph probably only stopped and offered him a lift in exchange for some banter and a few laughs, but Spike feels that his store of humorous material is rather depleted right now.

  ‘Judas Priest!’ Ralph exclaims, giving Spike an agitated look. ‘D’you like ’em?’

  ‘Er, yeah,’ he fibs.

  ‘You into music?’ Ralph wants to know, swivelling his fleshy face towards Spike for longer than is probably recommended in the Highway Code.

  ‘I’m a musician actually,’ Spike says.

  ‘Yeah? Play in a band or what?’

  ‘Um, I’ve got a few things on the go …’

  The brief silence that follows is filled with the frantic strains of Judas Priest. Spike’s thoughts wander to Lou, and what she might be doing right now. ‘You know,’ Ralph muses, ‘I’m sure I know you from somewhere.’

  Spike gazes at a sleek grey Porsche speeding ahead. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘What bands have you been in?’ he wants to know.

  Just tell him, then he’ll stop jerking his head round and keep his mind on the road. ‘There’ve been a few things over the years,’ Spike says airily, ‘but the thing you probably remember is a song called ‘My Beauty’ that I recorded when—’

  ‘Not that horse song?’ Ralph exclaims, oblivious to the frantic beeping behind him as he veers into the outside lane.

  ‘That’s the one.’ Spike’s expression has set like cement.

  ‘God, yeah, I remember that,’ Ralph guffaws, and launches into an out-of-tune rendition of the song.

  Spike glances down and checks his watch. They have just passed Carlisle and, by his reckoning, it will only take another three hours to get to York.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  Their last supper is a simple Italian. Not at Puccini’s – Johnny mentioned that no one goes there anymore – but a small basement candlelit place where the girls are given a corner table. ‘What’s going to happen, Lou?’ Sadie asks.

  Lou places her cutlery neatly on the side of her plate. ‘Well, Spike will have to come and collect his stuff, I suppose. Not that he’s got much – guitars, a few books, his clothes and some manky old tubes of ointment in the bathroom …’

  ‘I mean apart from that.’ Sadie sips her wine and regards Lou over the rim of her glass.

  Lou fixes her with a steady gaze. ‘I’ve decided I’m going to cut my hours at the hellhole and start work on some new jewellery.’

  ‘That’s fantastic,’ Hannah exclaims. ‘Are you going to tell Dave when you get back?’

  ‘Yep,’ Lou says firmly. ‘And eventually, if I can get things going again I can quit completely.’ She shrugs and smiles. ‘No, I will quit. I’m also going to look for another artist-in-residency post, like I should have done years ago, even if it means moving …’

  ‘Where to?’ Hannah asks.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Lou grins and tops up her glass of red. ‘Anywhere really. You know, it’s actually a lovely feeling to know that whatever I do, I won’t have to discuss it or do any persuading. It’s just me.’

  ‘Will you manage, though,’ Hannah asks tentatively, ‘paying the rent and everything all by yourself?’

  ‘I do that anyway,’ she says with a rueful smile. ‘And because Spike won’t be lying around in the day with the gas fire on full blast … God,’ she pauses to tear off a scrap of pizza crust, ‘I’ll be loaded.’

  Lou can sense her friends studying her, perhaps suspecting that she’s just putting on a brave face. ‘So it’s definitely over with Spike,’ Hannah ventures, unable to erase the trace of hope from her voice.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Lou declares. ‘I was working it all out when we were in the jacuzzi. He sold that guitar – the one his parents bought for him – so I’d go to Glasgow leaving him completely free for his weekend of fun …’

  ‘And now she’s dumped him,’ Hannah observes.

  Lou nods. ‘So the pour soul’s alone and it’s all been for nothing. Sorry, though, Han,’ she adds, ‘I think it might be a tiny bit awkward if he comes to your wedding.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll manage to have a good time without him,’ Hannah smirks.

  ‘He’d bought his suit and everything. Well, not bought, Charlie said he had one he could borrow …’

  Sadie twirls the remains of her spaghetti around her fork. ‘You are still going to go through with it, aren’t you, Han? The wedding, I mean?’

  Hannah nods and smiles. ‘Yes, of course I am. I just had a wobble over him spending last night at Petra’s – I mean real, serious jealousy that actually made me feel sick …’ She pauses. ‘It made me realise, despite everything, how much I love him.’

  ‘What about Daisy and Josh?’ Sadie asks.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure, when I get home, the kids will still be …’ She laughs, trying to find the right words, ‘… still his kids. I mean, they’ll be around forever, won’t they? Bringing bags of stinking laundry home when they’re students, phoning up to say they can’t get their washing machines to work when they’re thirty-five … they love him to bits, you know. And now, after being away with you two, I feel … sort of hopeful that things will turn around.’

  ‘You really think so?’ Lou asks.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Hannah says firmly. ‘God, it might be a complete disaster and they’ll resent me even more when I’m their dad’s wife, and I’ll sneak into their rooms and find little Hannah voodoo dolls with pins stuck in …’ The waitress refills their glasses and deftly clears away the clutter of plates.

  ‘Han,’ Sadie says when they’re alone again, ‘I’ve decided I’m not bringing the babies to your wedding.’

  ‘What?’ Hannah exclaims. ‘We don’t mind, you know’ – she’s slipped into we-
speak, she realises – ‘even if they bawl the registry office down when we’re saying our vows. Isn’t that supposed to happen at weddings? And there’ll be other kids there – Ryan’s sister is bringing her three kids and his friend Adam has a newborn …’

  ‘I just don’t think we should,’ Sadie explains. ‘You know how many times me and Barney have been out on our own since we had the boys?’ Hannah and Lou look blank. ‘None,’ she announces.

  ‘Really?’ Lou gasps.

  ‘Yep, really. Shocking, isn’t it?’

  ‘But who will you leave them with?’ Hannah asks.

  ‘Barney’s parents,’ Sadie says.

  ‘Will they be okay with looking after the kids?’ Lou asks, frowning.

  ‘They’ll be fine, even if they don’t do things the way I would. Anyway, it’ll be good for the boys to get to know their grandparents better, and me and Barney …’ She grins and opens the dessert menu with its old-fashioned, wedding-invitation-style script. ‘Well, that means we’ll get to spend the night in a hotel, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Careful,’ Hannah sniggers. ‘You know what happens on these drink-fuelled nights, especially at weddings …’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Sadie’s dark eyes gleam in the light of the stuttering candle. ‘I’ll be tucked up in bed in my sensible pyjamas with a book by nine o’clock.’

  ‘You haven’t done much reading on this weekend,’ Lou remarks.

  ‘Well, I’ve been a bit busy.’

  ‘We’ve noticed.’ Hannah smiles teasingly. ‘I take it he hasn’t texted you yet?’

  ‘No, thank God,’ Sadie exclaims. ‘But listen, what I was thinking is … coming to your wedding on our own might make me and Barney feel a bit more … together. We need to do something, I’ve realised that. Something weird’s happened to me since we had the boys …’

  ‘What kind of weird?’ Lou asks.

  Sadie shakes her head. ‘I’ve become this … routiney person, obsessed with everything being absolutely right and by the book. As if it’ll all fall apart unless we stick to the schedules I’ve set up. And just being away for one night has proved that it won’t, that I can relax and just be myself and maybe, more than anything, that’s what me and Barney need right now.’