How totally fucking stupid I was to think that you’d understand how important it is.
I saw her. HER. She came into the garden while I was there. I had to move so fast to get out of sight but what the FUCK?!
You didn’t tell me this.
HOW WAS I MEANT TO KNOW?!
Maybe you can’t get rid of her, maybe she’s clinging on like some fucking PARASITE.
You know what they do with parasites . . .
All I want is for you to tell me she doesn’t understand you, that’s all I need. I know how that works, living with someone who makes it so hard.
Now I’m feeling sorry for you. Isn’t that funny? Only a few minutes ago I was so angry I was ready to kill you, but now I understand it properly. It’s not your fault. You knew her before. I guess you weren’t to know that there would be someone better out there for you, someone perfect. The other half to your whole.
I’m not sure you’ve realised it yet. Men don’t always know what’s best for them.
It’s as well I do know. And I’m going to make sure it happens.
19
Decision made, but she’s still not ready. Bracing for the rejection she’s sure to face. Instead of heading straight there, she walks around Christ Church Meadow, wandering past the boat houses, dodging hefty blokes in tight Lycra. She stops in front of the one that belongs to her old college, trying to scrape back through the years to remember how it felt to stand on the terrace as she allowed herself to do occasionally, plastic glass of Pimm’s in hand, cheering on a boat to do she understood not what, bump another boat or something – but that was never the point, only the drinking and the laughing and the disco that followed, a sense of belonging that normally eluded her.
The doors are open and she can see a man using the rowing machine, a couple of other men in training gear and a girl in tight jeans, laughing. The girl’s laughter stops the moment she catches sight of Anna, her face shutting down.
‘We don’t have any change,’ she calls out, before Anna can even open her mouth to speak.
Anna blinks. She wasn’t expecting this. She’s just looking, that’s all. ‘I used to be at the college,’ she says, ‘a long time ago.’
The girl laughs again, a bitter sound this time, then swallows it. ‘Sure you were.’
Anna could argue, there might be enough fire in her belly to take this little cow on, but she’s past this now. She doesn’t have anything to prove to anyone. She did her time – Oxfordandinside – and no one can take either from her.
More’s the pity.
Resisting the temptation to croak out a curse, a warning,this could be you in ten years if you don’t watch it, Anna turns and walks back along the stretch of boat houses before turning along the path up the tributary that leads into the River Cherwell.
It’s quiet here, fewer runners, only a mother walking along slowly, holding a toddler by the hand. Anna overtakes them easily. Round a bend, another, and there’s the bench she remembers sitting on with a boy she liked, their knees almost touching in the dark. They used to sneak over the wall from college after the gates were locked at night.
Sunlight breaks through the clouds, rays of it slanting down through the big willow that overhangs the water to Anna’s right, and a duck swims past, another, the light catching the flash of green on the mallard’s head. The tightness in Anna’s chest eases, slightly, though the weight of memories remains.
She leans back against the bench, closing her eyes in the slight warmth the sun provides. Despite a full night’s sleep she’s exhausted, images of the events of the last two days flickering into her mind. A bloodied face, Little and Large, Tom’s hair flopping down in that irritating way. The lights of the car as it barrelled into her, the pain when she came round. Tom’s high-handedness, the way he tried to stop her finding out about Kelly. The smell in the hostel that took her straight back to the day that she was first arrested.
All of it lies on her chest, adding to the guilt she constantly feels. She’s almost winded, unable to take in a proper breath, watching the shadows dance around her mind, wishing she could give it all up . . .
A bark breaks her stupor. God, Tom was right. She’s stuck in a loop. She opens her eyes and watches a small brown dog jump into the water in an attempt to chase the ducks, unable to control a smile at the indignation with which the ducks take flight. She’s got to pull herself together. There is one thing she’s got going for her: she’s still alive. Not like that poor woman in the bunk below.
She pulls the phone out of her bag, delaying the walk to her sister’s house. It’s quiet around here. She holds the power button down, but the tiny phone does nothing, the screen blank. It might not even have charge left. She jabs at the condom encasing it with her fingernail, trying to break it loose. It won’t shift, so with a grimace, she raises it to her mouth and rips into the rubber with her teeth, trying not to think about where it’s been. Once she’s ripped enough of a hole, she peels away the latex, freeing the phone, before stuffing the broken condom into the side pocket on her bag.
She tries pressing the power button again, almost unable to isolate it, it’s so small, and with a surge of triumph, she watches the screen light up as the phone turns on. Her search through reveals nothing new, however.
Only that one phone number. One that’s not even saved in the memory of the phone, but just logged as the last call. There are no other numbers in the call records, either. Anna was hoping to find a photograph, maybe. Nothing.
She turns the phone over and over, flicking at menu options and settings until the phone beeps. She’s hoping that by magic something useful will appear, but of course it doesn’t. There’s just the phone number. Should she call it?
Her finger’s hovering over the call button when suddenly the phone rings, a shrill noise so loud it startles a pigeon by her feet into flight. Anna’s hands are shaking now, the jolt of adrenaline rushing through her lightning fast. Should she answer? It’s buzzing in her hands like an angry hornet. Holding it as lightly as she dares, Anna waits for it to stop ringing, the noise beating relentlessly on her ear drums.
It stops. Anna looks at the screen to see if it shows the number of the caller, but then it starts to ring again. She jumps so hard she nearly drops it, the water only a couple of metres away from her, then she takes a firmer grip, both on it and on herself. It’s a phone, not a snake. It won’t bite her. It’s not a sophisticated phone, either, so the chances of someone tracking it are small.
