"What the hell?" Jessica tore herself free, sending Amy staggering across the bathroom.
"Wait, I thought–” Amy's mouth was open, her hands flapping.
"What was that about?" Jessica found herself shouting. "What did you think, exactly?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean–” Amy swallowed. "You're so pretty, and I forgot, and–”
Jessica's phone chimed. Terry, asking "What're you two doing in there?"
Turning her back on the girl she'd thought was her friend, Jessica stormed out of the toilets and into the bar.
Terry turned away from Jenny's chatter and Tom's lunatic theories when he heard the toilet door bang. Jessica looked shaken as she strode across the room, and her lipstick was all smeared.
He'd heard the shouting, and Terry had his own guesses as to what had just gone on. The idea of this perfect photo-girl doing things to her weird friend made him shiver inside. He longed for her so hard that he could feel it hurting, and could only gawp at her while he put words together.
This was the time to be sympathetic. He blocked the others out and touched Jessica lightly on the hand, looking at her with big open eyes. "Are you feeling alright?"
"No, not really." Jessica was shivering, but didn't move her hand away.
"Need another drink?" Terry steered her gently towards the bar.
"I don't–” she broke off, putting her hand to her mouth, and Terry could tell she was holding something back. Her voice went harsher, steelier. "Oh, why not?"
Her friend, that oddball Amy, still hadn't come out. Terry could see Jenny break away from Tom and head for the bathroom door, but he barely paid it any attention.
He paid again. Terry didn't mind – he'd buy this girl all the drinks she ever wanted, and more beside. Jessica deserved to be riding around in limos and getting photographed for magazine covers, not shut up in some nowhere like Crooksfield. He'd take her out of here when he left, show her the city lights and all the sights of London.
"Cheers," Terry told her, and she mimicked him obediently, drinking so fast it overflowed the corners of her mouth.
He leaned in, seeing every fleck in those beautiful eyes, every curl of her lashes. "Hey, want to get out of here? Maybe go over to the club?"
"Maybe in a bit." Jessica took another mouthful, her expression clouding up. "I just need some time to get my breath back, ok?"
"Sure, take all the time you need, yeah?" Terry had this in the bag, he could feel it. He could barely hold himself together with excitement.
His phone went. Tom, abandoned somewhere behind him, had resorted to texting.
"Mate you 2 need to get a room"
Tom was bored. Jenny still hadn't come back, and he didn't fancy talking to anyone else he knew here. He'd tried to catch Lynette's eye before, but she was making a point of ignoring him, and Terry was busy chatting up that girl of Steven's.
He sighed theatrically, leaning back against the wall. He should've expected this – Terry was only fun as long as you held his attention, and the stupid git had gone and got himself distracted. Amy had been in the loo for ages now, and Tom desperately wanted to know what was going on – maybe she'd finally tried to top herself.
An idea came him, popping into his head as if it'd teleported there. If everyone thought they could ignore him, maybe they had it coming.
He pulled his phone back out and messaged Steven.
"Alright mate found Jessica for you"
Steven's reply came almost instantly. "Where is she? Is she still mad?"
"Shes here in blackjacks," Tom sent, and folded his arms and waited for the fireworks.
Steven was feeling better after a meal and a shower. Tom had already disappeared by the time he'd got back, but he was in no mood to sit around anyway. He was confused. Jessica hadn't mentioned a job in the day they'd spent together, and here everyone was telling him she was working. Was he being mucked around?
His phone went. A message saying "Is the light still broken?" with no name attached. Steven ignored it. If that group of friends thought so little of him, he could always go look up some others – he hadn't seen Harry or Donald for a few weeks, and both of them were normally up for a laugh.
Donald first, if he was sober enough to answer. Steven brought his name up, asked "Hey man, you free tonight?"
He got himself some coffee while waiting for an answer, and was just stirring the sugar in when his phone buzzed.
Tom.
Steven texted so quickly his fingers ached, and by the time the second message came back he was already halfway out the door. Perfect. The pub wouldn't be weird, not like talking to her at Jack's place – he could make it look like an accident. All he needed was a chance to explain, to show her he was better than that.
It was bitterly cold outside. Ice crystals glittered on the row of parked cars. Steven put his hands in his pockets and walked faster, heading for the bus stop.
The wind had picked up when he reached the central square, and Steven burrowed his head inside his coat collar like a turtle. Blackjacks loomed ahead, bright and warm and inviting, and he shouldered through the doors and into the crowd.
Donald was at the bar and raised a hand in welcome, yelling "What's up man, just got your text." Steven nodded at him, and was about to say something when all his attention was taken by the couple over in the corner, the long-haired girl and the freckle-faced boy, leaning in close to each other and talking too quietly for him to make out.
Jessica and Terry, almost touching.
Steven pushed forward, and saw Tom popping up behind them like a demented goblin. "Alright mate," Tom shouted, and Steven saw Jessica and Terry break and turn, Terry grinning and Jessica turning white.
"Steven," she said, and looked like she was about to faint.
"What's all this?" Steven demanded of them, his head still too sore for shouting. "Terry, you enormous arse, what do you think you're playing at?"
"Calm down, yeah?" Terry was laughing at him.
Jessica leaned on the table next to her. "Why are you asking him?" she said, and her voice was low and furious. "Shouldn't you be talking to me?"
"It's both of you, isn't it?" Steven was shaking with adrenalin.
"It's me," Jessica said in that cold voice. "Can't I make my own decisions? Or am I just some trophy for you to share?"
"That wasn't even–” Steven looked for Jenny, but she wasn't visible.
"I don't care." Jessica's voice had risen, hoarseness underneath. "It's much easier for you to just let stuff happen, isn't it?"
"Because that's what I'm doing now, right?" Steven said bitterly. "Look at me!" He waved his arms. "I'm sitting at home right this second."
Terry moved forward. "Let the lady make her own choices," he said, and his smile was fading.
"Like you care." Steven turned on his one-time friend and raised his voice, not caring if his head split. "You just think she's an easy lay if you say the right things. I know how you work, you arsehole."
There were fireworks across his cheek. Jessica had slapped him.
"It's none of your business who I see or what I'm doing," she hissed at him. "Not any more. Got that?"
Resentment welling in him, Steven shoved her and to his horror she tumbled backwards, sending the table over in a cascade of broken glass and spilled beer.
The entire pub turned to look. Donald was staring, and so was that Patrick who was a mate of Tom's, and that girl whose name he couldn't remember. The bathroom door banged open and Jenny rushed out of it, a huddled-up Amy trailing behind her.
Somewhere in the silence, Tom was sniggering.
"Hell with it," Steven said to everyone and to no-one, and headed for the door.
Four
Steven was halfway across Highburn Place when his phone started to buzz continuously. He pulled it out to find a cluster of messages. "What was that about man?" from Donald. "Alright mate best sleep it off," from Tom. "Nice going Romeo," from Terry – and the smirk in those words nearly made Steven ch
uck his phone on the ground.
Amy was better, asking "What happened? Are you okay?" Steven had barely registered her being there, but she looked to have been crying and a little bit of him wondered why.
The phone buzzed yet again – Jenny, saying "whoa what'd i miss? u ok?"
Still nothing from Hazel, Steven realised, but he was too dead and shaken-up to care.
He'd sleep. There wasn't anything worth being awake for.
Jenny knew something was wrong when Jessica came flying out of the Ladies like that. She hovered, unable to break into the conversation, then realised Amy hadn't followed. She should check on her friend – it was the right thing to do – and if that meant she also got the other side of what'd just happened then so be it, that couldn't be helped right?
Jenny ducked away from Tom and headed across the bar. Slow music. The mood was all wrong.
She pushed through into the bathroom, and found Amy crouched in the middle of the floor, weeping. Jenny hovered – she felt like she only barely knew the red-haired girl, for all they'd chatted at the same nights and parties hundreds of times over – but she felt a twinge in her chest at the sheer sight of Amy about to melt into the tiles, and so Jenny stole forward and crouched beside her and asked with caution:
"Are you alright?"
"Not – not really," and speaking seemed to trigger a fresh cascade of sobs from Amy, leaving her balanced on her hands and knees.
"What happened?" and for all Jenny sounded sympathetic she was burning to know, hungry for it.
"I – I–” Amy snuffled, and Jenny offered her a tissue. "I wasn't thinking."
"You weren't?" Someone had once told Jenny that mirroring words back was the best way to get someone talking, counsellors and police liked to do it. She put a careful arm around Amy's shoulders, feeling them quiver.
"I didn't mean–” Amy blew her nose again. "We've been friends for ages before she left, and it was just like before, but I – I think I drank too much."
Had her friend thrown up or said something stupid? Jenny made encouraging noises.
"We were only talking," Amy said, "and then I fell and she caught me and she – ahuh, huh." Words dissolved under a barrage of tears.
"Mm," Jenny said, and patted her gently on the back.
"She," Amy gulped for air, "she – ahuh – she's so pretty." The last word turned into a wail, and no more came after it.
Jenny had a pretty fair guess what had happened by now, and part of her wanted to move rapidly away from Amy but she surprised herself by staying there and holding on, anchoring the crying girl to this room and this moment and trying to take her away from her own thoughts. Jenny didn't think it was healthy or interesting to get all wrapped up inside yourself like that, not when there was something happening around you – best to be a mirror to the world, echo it.
The moments stretched into minutes and kept on going. Amy's sobs began to grow quieter, to Jenny's relief – her arm was aching, and the tiles on the bathroom floor were hard and cold and hadn't been cleaned in some time. She felt extraneous to the scene she was in, disconnected as if she were on stage or in a shop window display. Jenny wished she could take a picture of herself doing this, capture her decency and the effort she was making right this second and show the world – here, look, this is me doing a good thing. You thought I was shallow and here you are wrong, I am a comfort, a shoulder.
There was an almighty crash from the bar.
Jenny felt Amy jump like a small animal, and it sent shocks up her arm. "What was that?" said the red-haired girl, and Jenny helped her to her feet and pulled her towards the door, impatient to see what she'd missed.
She just caught sight of Steven's back as he disappeared outside, but Jenny was already pushing forward through the thickening crowd. There were bits of glass under her feet and the floor was sticky with beer. Jessica was lying next to the fallen table and struggling to sit up, her face white.
"That bastard," she was saying, wincing and putting a hand to her head. Jessica yelled the word at the door Steven had gone through. "Bastard!"
Jenny peered forward, trying to see if Jessica was injured. The long-haired girl's fingers were bleeding where a stray piece of glass had caught them, and blood had smeared from them across her head while she clutched it. The scene looked far worse than Jenny knew it was, and she stealthily pulled her phone out and took a picture from waist-height.
Terry was helping Jessica to her feet, putting his arms helpfully around her waist. "You alright?" he said, and Jenny shook her head gently and snorted.
"I'm fine." Jessica pulled free of Terry, blood still drying on her skin, and immediately staggered for support. Several people rushed forward, Jenny among them, but Terry was too quick for any of them and had got hold of her before Jenny could blink.
"You should be lying down, yeah?" he said, and started to walk her towards the door. Jenny couldn't help grinning at how smooth the twat thought he was, but he didn't deserve to have things that easy. She stepped out from the crowd, blocking his path.
"She shouldn't be moving," Jenny told Terry and Jessica both, staring them down. "Not if she's banged her head. Could be dangerous, okay?"
" 's not dangerous," Jessica mumbled, turning her head to talk to Terry's ear. "Just take me home?"
Tom, to Jenny's surprise, chimed in to help.
"You're better off calling an ambulance," he yelled from the back, looking pleased with himself.
A couple of people Jenny didn't really know – friends of Tom's – were nodding in agreement. Flushed so that his freckles disappeared, Terry backed down and maneuvered the protesting Jessica onto a stool, crouching down beside her and keeping her propped up. The lovelorn idiot probably meant to ride in the ambulance with her.
"Is she hurt?" There were still tears at the edge of Amy's voice, and Jenny had forgotten about her until that second.
"I think she's okay," Jenny said, and saw Amy wobble, the shock of the scene in front of her piling in on top of all the alcohol until that red head looked ready to burst.
Jenny relented.
"No point hanging around here," she said. "Come on, I'll see you home."
"T-thanks." Amy clung onto Jenny's arm as if it meant something, and Jenny was glad all eyes were still on the injured girl on the stool. She ducked out of the pub as discreetly as possible, and as she helped Amy across the square with one hand Jenny was pulling out her phone with the other.
It was freezing, and it took her some seconds to get the message to Hazel along with the picture of the fallen Jessica.
"hey look what Steven did lol"
Halfway to Amy's place Amy forgot how to walk, and so it wasn't until the front gate that Jenny could check her phone.
Nothing from Hazel, but there was another anonymous message. She opened it without thinking.
"I cant see wat u're talking about."
Jenny was about to delete the text, then stopped and looked at it again, her heart hammering.
"Can we go inside? It's freezing." Amy was leaning her full weight on Jenny's arm and shoulder.
Jenny helped her with the key, and after two false starts found the kitchen and put Amy in one of the chairs, where she leaned her arms and head on the table.
"Thank you," Amy said, struggling over the words. "Really, thanks so much. You've been really really kind."
"It's nothing," Jenny said, getting herself a glass of water. She looked at the message again, and felt something funny moving around in her gut.
Steven still hadn't replied to her last message, but she needed to ask anyway if only so she could stop worrying. Jenny texted him, his friend Donald, Tom, anyone else who might know: "hey have u seen Hazel lately?"
"Who're you talking to?" Amy tried to get up from the table.
"Just people." Jenny looked at her friend, cheeks still streaked and stained. "Hey, have you seen Hazel in the last couple of days?"
Amy shook her head and looked like she wished she hadn't. "I thought you
usually talked to her?"
"Never mind," and now Jenny was seriously worried, feeling it sitting in the back of her head like a tumour. It was too late to do anything now and Hazel was probably asleep or still upset over Steven – it was normal to close yourself off after a breakup, lots of people did that – but tomorrow? Tomorrow was another matter, and she'd have time to nip over to Hazel's place before work.
Maybe she should bring Amy along, or even Steven if he was definitely finished with Jessica now. Show poor old Hazel how much they all missed her.
"Let's get you to bed," she said to Amy, picking her up from the table and walking her down the hall.
Tom could feel himself winding down. He was sitting on one of the barstools watching the mess get cleared up, and the buzz in the bar was fading with it, people already leaving quietly in their twos and threes.
Things hadn't worked out how he'd hoped at all – Steven was gone, Terry would leave as soon as the ambulance showed, Jenny had vanished. He'd expected more from Amy, but she'd only blubbered and run off. Even weird Patrick was making sideways glances at the door.
Tom yawned, hopping off the stool. Time to head back. He could check the usual channels for anything new, see if the rest of the world was having a better time than he was.
It was actually freezing outside. So cold it hurt, cutting through jackets and jeans and going straight to the skin. Tom broke into a jog – not something he normally liked to do, it attracted attention – but right now all he cared about was getting home as fast as possible. Maybe Steven had be mooning around the place.
As he left the square and headed for Hopscotch Bridge, Tom saw movement at the edge, and stopped running so abruptly that his feet skidded on the icy ground. The streetlights cast a deep shadow from the base of the parapet halfway across the pavement, and something unfolded itself from within. A figure in ragged clothes and tattered straw hat was sitting there, tucked away from the wind.
Tom crossed the street to avoid walking past the tramp, trying to look as though he'd planned to go that way regardless. He stole a glance at the sitting figure, but couldn't make out any face, just the broad brim of the hat and the circular shadow it cast. There was a wooden pole of some kind propped across the figure's knees, too long to be a walking stick.
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