She tapped Quinn on the shoulder, and her friend swung around to smile at her. Quinn had recently begun straightening her hair, and Hannah missed her wild, carefree look. She missed more than that, though. Things hadn’t been the same between them ever since that fight they’d had in the uni bar just before Hannah had started up with Joseph.
‘I’m gonna go home, babe,’ Hannah said.
‘Oh, don’t go!’ Quinn threw her arms around her neck.
Hannah knew her friend was just drunk, but the sweetness of contact almost swept her away after the last few months of coolness, and she clung to her. There’d always been something about Quinn that felt like home, the scent of her hair so familiar. Everything felt natural and right when they were together, as if they shared the same soul, and in the joy and the certainty of the feelings between them, Hannah felt the absence of any solidity with Joseph all the more keenly. It occurred to her that she’d been chasing those feelings with him when maybe the answer had been in front of her all along. Then she noticed the guy Quinn had been talking to, resting an elbow on the bar, a bored expression on his face as he waited for them to finish, and she pulled away. ‘I have to get up early in the morning. Anyway, you look occupied here.’
‘I can ditch him anytime,’ Quinn said.
‘No, you stay and have fun,’ Hannah said. ‘I’m just going to the loo. I’ll come and say goodbye in a minute.’
She weaved through the crowd to the toilets and pushed the door open right into two girls who were huddled by the sink. ‘Sorry,’ Hannah mumbled, and was about to go into the cubicle when she realised one of them was crying. ‘Hey, are you OK?’
The girl hastily brushed her tears away, smearing mascara across her face. Hannah recognised her as one of the girls from her year at uni.
‘No, she’s not OK,’ the girl’s friend said, a protective hand on her shoulder.
‘It’s Stephanie, isn’t it?’ Hannah asked. ‘We’ve got constitutional law together, right?’
Stephanie nodded, her eyes still bright with tears. ‘Not for much longer, though. I’m going to fail. I’m never getting this degree. I’ll never be a lawyer.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you won’t fail,’ Hannah said soothingly. ‘I know it’s a really hard subject, but I bet if you asked Joseph for a bit of extra help, he’d do it.’
Stephanie’s friend scoffed. ‘His extra help is the reason she’s in this mess in the first place!’
‘No, Astrid, don’t!’ Stephanie pleaded. ‘You can’t say anything! I’ll get kicked out of the whole degree.’
Hannah frowned. ‘What do you mean? What about Joseph?’
The two girls stared at one another for a long moment as Hannah’s stomach dropped lower and lower, because hadn’t her relationship with Joseph begun after he’d offered to help her? Was it possible he’d been carrying on an affair with Stephanie at the same time?
‘You can’t let him get away with this, Steph,’ Astrid said. ‘You have to report it.’
‘But what if they don’t believe me?’ Stephanie said. ‘What if they say I’m just making it up as an excuse for failing?’
‘But what if he’s doing it to other girls?’
After a moment, Stephanie nodded and turned to Hannah. ‘Joseph did offer to help me out. He invited me over to his house for dinner one night, and we sat at his dining table afterwards and he went through some of the principles of constitutional law. He got a bit …’
‘Touchy-feely?’ Hannah supplied.
‘Well, yeah. But he didn’t try anything, and his wife was in the next room, so I thought I must’ve imagined it. But then he tried to kiss me one day, and when I pulled away he told me I’d been leading him on for weeks. But I hadn’t, I swear! When I failed my next assignment, he asked to see me after class and he said if I showed my appreciation for him he’d make sure I did well enough in the exams to pass the subject.’
Hannah’s heart plummeted to her feet. ‘Let me guess. His idea of appreciation was a blow job under his desk?’
Stephanie’s mouth fell open. ‘You too?’
‘Told you,’ Astrid said.
‘When I refused, he told me he could get me booted from the whole degree,’ Stephanie said, tears starting in her eyes again.
Hannah wanted to cry too, but not yet. That would come later, when she was home in her bedroom, alone, with no one else to see her. When she had the chance to really think about all this, and what it said about her. How naive she’d been, to believe all those things he’d said to her: that she was special; that he was unable to resist the potent combination of her body and her brain. It had all been a lie, from beginning to end. Now, she took all the hurt that had begun to spread inside her and she turned it into steel.
QUINN
The guy Quinn had been talking to at the bar was kissing her, and Quinn was tossing up whether she could be bothered going home with him when Hannah’s voice in her ear gave her the excuse she needed to break away.
‘Hey! I thought you were leaving?’ she said.
Hannah’s face was pale, her almond eyes haunted. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘Sure,’ Quinn said. ‘Of course. Let’s go outside.’
‘Uh, hello?’ the guy at the bar said.
‘Sorry, man, gotta go,’ Quinn said.
She led Hannah out of the bar and around to Vaughan Place, where she nabbed the last table and gestured for her to sit down. Hannah’s voice trembled as she told Quinn what she’d just found out about Joseph Harris.
Quinn smacked her fist on the table. ‘I knew it! I knew that arsehole was up to something.’
‘What do you mean, you knew?’ Hannah was frowning at her, and with a flash of clarity Quinn realised the mistake she had made.
‘Um,’ Quinn stammered, studying her hands. ‘Back before you got involved with Harris, this guy I met told me his ex-girlfriend had an affair with him. And it started after he’d given her private tutoring at his house.’
‘You knew,’ Hannah said coldly. ‘And you didn’t tell me.’
‘I was going to,’ Quinn insisted. ‘But it was that day we had the argument in the uni bar, and I guess I was angry. I’m sorry.’
‘But that was months ago.’ Hannah’s voice was tight, controlled. ‘I know we haven’t been hanging out as much, but you could have told me. You should’ve told me.’
The truth was, Quinn was still hurt that Hannah had chosen Joseph over her. The mean part of her thought Hannah was an idiot for sleeping with some old guy when she could have any man she wanted. The childlike part of her felt betrayed that Hannah could carry on with someone else’s husband after she’d stood beside Quinn and watched Travis kissing another girl. And then there was the part of her that she’d kept hidden deep inside … the part that had always wondered if she and Hannah would end up together one day, if the time was ever right. But now, seeing the distress twisting Hannah’s face, she realised how poor her judgement had been.
‘I’m sorry, Hannah,’ she said. ‘I’ve been a shit friend.’
She reached across the table, sure if she could just touch Hannah, everything would be all right. But Hannah snatched her hands away and stood up.
‘I can’t believe you’d do this. I thought we were friends. And you let me carry on with Joseph all this time, knowing what he was.’
The streetlights glimmered off Hannah’s hair as she turned and walked away. Quinn leapt to her feet and ran after her. ‘Hannah, stop! I love you.’
A couple of the men at one of the neighbouring tables wolf-whistled and cheered, and Quinn paused to give them the finger before hurrying across Rundle Street after Hannah. She grabbed her shoulder, but Hannah shrugged her off and kept going. Quinn’s head was spinning. She couldn’t let this happen, couldn’t let Hannah walk away without fixing this. Couldn’t lose the only person she truly loved. Surging forward, she ran in front of her, blocking her path.
‘Leave me alone, Quinn,’ Hannah said. Tears glistened in her eyes.
; ‘I’m so sorry,’ Quinn said. ‘Let me make it up to you. Please.’
Hannah crossed her arms over her chest. ‘And how are you going to do that?’
‘I’ll find others,’ she said desperately. ‘Other women he’s done this to. I’ll track them down, and we can go to the Dean. We’ll take him down. Together.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HANNAH
Telling Quinn the truth – that there was little chance Simon would be punished for what he’d done to her – had been the single hardest thing Hannah had ever had to say to a client. Maybe it was because Quinn wasn’t her client, but her friend. Or maybe it was because a fierce and fearless woman like Quinn should never have to be on the receiving end of such injustice. Either way, when she stopped the car outside Quinn’s apartment building and watched her disappear inside, Hannah wasn’t sure she could muster the energy to drive all the way back to Carrickalinga once again, as she’d told Ethan she would.
They only had one more night booked at the beach house anyway. She could go home instead, let Ethan drive them all back tomorrow. He’d be annoyed, of course, but Hannah was sick to death of constantly thinking about everyone else’s welfare. She’d never once, in eight years, spent a night away from her children. Ethan, on the other hand, had gone on business trips many times as well as several boys’ weekends with his mates. She’d bloody well earned a break. What unimaginable heaven it would be to prepare a meal only for herself, to spend the afternoon watching Netflix, to go to bed whenever she wanted and have nothing to wake up for in the morning.
It was only when she got home and sent Ethan a text that she realised it was New Year’s Eve. After all the drama with Quinn, she hadn’t even noticed the date. Not that she’d actually done anything for New Year’s in ages, but now it was actually an option. And she knew someone who could use a night out.
Find something hot to wear, she texted to Quinn. You are I are going out tonight.
‘I’m relying on you to tell me where we should go,’ Hannah said as they got out of the Uber on Rundle Street. ‘I don’t get out too often these days.’
‘Let’s start at the Howling Owl,’ Quinn said. ‘A hundred and thirty different kinds of gin … you’ll love it.’
A purple dress hugged Quinn’s body, and she looked smoking in black patent leather pumps with killer heels. Hannah was mesmerised by the sway of her hips as she followed her up the street. They paused at Vaughan Place and Quinn pointed out the Exeter Hotel with its beige walls and lime green tiles.
‘Remember when we used to drink Coopers and watch shitty bands at the Ex every weekend?’
‘How could I forget?’
Quinn peered in the grimy windows. ‘Still full of fake feminist fuckboys, only now they’ve got beards.’
Hannah grinned. She’d gone home with a few of those fuckboys in her time, and their prowess in bed had been about as impressive as their conversation. Compared to them, Joseph Harris had seemed so worldly, his attention a brilliant sunrise after the dim light in the dingy corners of the Exeter.
‘Down here,’ Quinn said, leading them down the laneway to the bar on the corner opposite The Elephant British Pub.
‘We might have trouble getting a seat tonight,’ Hannah said.
‘Nope.’ Quinn pointed. ‘There’s one. You grab it and I’ll get menus.’
Seated at the table, Hannah watched the groups of rowdy patrons spilling out of The Elephant, shouting and throwing back their imperial pints. Going out on the town had felt different during her brief fling with Joseph. She’d still had fun, of course, but she’d felt this smug sense of superiority over all the other students … a sense that she was somehow better than they were because she’d caught the eye of a man like Joseph. It hadn’t mattered that the sex itself was average: the fact that she was fucking him between the starched sheets of hotel beds rather than rutting in some guy’s filthy room in a falling-apart share house had made her feel like she had ascended to a higher plane. Even after all this time, she was still disgusted at herself, both for thinking the affair had made her more interesting and for believing his lies in the first place.
‘Check this out.’ Quinn returned to the table and threw a menu down in front of Hannah. ‘Personally, I recommend the one with the lemon and olives, but they’re all out of this fucking world.’
‘How about I get us one each?’ Hannah rose and didn’t wait for Quinn’s agreement before going inside to the bar.
She looked around the room while the bartender prepared the drinks. Seeing the Exeter again had reminded her of the night when that encounter with the girls in the toilet had brought her smug self-assurance crashing down. That night had also marked the moment Quinn had broken her trust – a betrayal that, in some ways, had been more devastating than finding out the truth about Joseph. It had felt like the end of something pure and special, a future that Hannah had only just caught a glimpse of before it had been whisked away. Quinn had made up for it after the accident, of course, but the cracks had remained in their friendship ever since.
But now, thinking about that night, an idea formed in Hannah’s mind.
‘Excuse me?’
The bartender’s voice cut through Hannah’s memories, and she dragged herself back to the present. ‘Sorry.’
She paid for the drinks and took them out, then she and Quinn clinked glasses.
‘So, I just had a thought,’ Hannah said, taking a sip of her drink. ‘Ooh, that is good.’ She paused for a moment before continuing. ‘When I found out that Joseph Harris had been coercing other students for grades … do you remember what you suggested we should do?’
‘That we find the other—’ Understanding dawned on Quinn’s face.
Resting her elbows on the table, Hannah leant forward. ‘Have there been any women who left your agency in the last few years? Any that were a surprise at the time, who maybe moved on to lesser jobs?’
‘I don’t think he’d do something like that,’ Quinn said, shifting in her seat. ‘I mean, he’s a bit inappropriate with me sometimes, but I can’t see him actually targeting women like that.’
‘You’re defending him?’
‘Well, I had been provoking—’
‘Please, Quinn, don’t do that,’ Hannah said gently.
Quinn jiggled the ice in her drink for so long that Hannah thought she wasn’t going to say anything, but finally she looked up. ‘There was this one woman, about a year ago. Jess. She was good … really good. Everyone expected she’d be up there with the partners eventually. But then one day she resigned totally out of the blue and never came back.’
‘Anyone else you can think of?’
‘There’ve been others that left, but I can’t remember the details now.’
‘Do you think you could find out their names?’
‘Possibly.’
‘If we can find other people he’s done this to – people who are willing to testify – you might have a case after all.’
A slow smile spread over Quinn’s face and she crashed her glass against Hannah’s. ‘You are a genius.’
‘You know it,’ Hannah grinned.
But when Quinn went inside to get the next round, Hannah’s mood dipped again. She was nowhere near as confident about this plan as she’d made out. If Simon had assaulted other women, there was no guarantee they’d admit as much to Quinn … and even if they did, the chances of them being willing to go to the police now if they hadn’t at the time were slim. But after what she’d told Quinn when they’d left the police station, she had to give her something. She had to give her hope.
Hannah woke to the sound of a text message. Her mouth was dusty and dry, and she rolled over and reached for the glass of water beside the bed, only to discover it was empty. The movement sent her brain crashing against the side of her head, and she lay back again. Good god, she hadn’t been this hungover in years.
Her phone beeped again. She groaned, scrabbling blindly on the bedside table for it because she didn’t wan
t to have to lift her head again. When her fingers finally found it, she squinted at the screen. There were four messages. Ethan, of course. He hadn’t been happy that she’d chosen not to go back to the beach house, and he was even less impressed that he’d been left to pack up their stuff and get the kids home by himself.
Do you know where Jet left his drink bottle?
Am I supposed to clean the house or just tidy up?
I can’t find Grace’s other shoe anywhere. Do you have any idea where it is?
Hello? Earth to Hannah?
‘Oh, fuck off,’ Hannah said out loud. How was she supposed to know where these random items were when she hadn’t been there for the last twenty-four hours? And as for the cleaning arrangements, there was a manual with all the instructions sitting on the end of the bench in the beach house. It would’ve been quicker for him to flick through that and find the answer to his question than it would’ve been to type out that whole message and then wait for her to find the booking email and type one back. He was so accustomed to Hannah having all the answers that he didn’t even think to look for them himself.
Then she felt bad for her uncharitable thoughts. Despite her cracking hangover, the night that’d caused it had been a gift. She typed a message back: Sorry, I went out with Quinn last night. Bit worse for wear this morning. No idea where all that stuff is, sorry. Good luck getting out of there. Text me when you’re on your way.
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