There was a long silence, because I couldn’t do the rest, but she must’ve got my drift.
–I–
It was all too much, too hopeless, too miserable, I thought suddenly. Stupid. I didn’t even know if what I’d nearly said was true, about loving her. Not then.
– Never mind, I said, into the folds of her cardigan.
To be holding someone, and to feel so lonely – it was killing me, frankly. I couldn’t do this after all. I was bottling out.
We stayed there like that for a while, and then something both small and enormous happened. She let out a little raucous noise. An animal noise, almost. I don’t think she even registered that it had come from her, but it jolted something to life inside me, and a thought broke into words.
– There’s nothing wrong with you, Hannah, I said slowly. I think you believed what your mother told you, because it suited you. Because you wanted to believe it. And now –
I stopped. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She’d gone very pale, like cheese.
– Whatever it is, I said, I think you’re hanging on to it, this – thing you’ve got.
– It’s called Crabbe’s Block.
– Well, I’ve never heard of it. I was pulling her in closer to me.
– It’s very rare.
– How rare?
Her eyes slid away.
– Very rare, she mumbled. I may be the only one on the island.
– So you’re pretty special, right? Is that what your mother told you? I was still holding her tight. Not letting her escape.
– Leave her out of this! said Hannah sharply.
Weird, we were almost having a proper conversation, I thought, a proper row!
– Well, I said. D’you know what I think?
She didn’t say anything, but her eyes slowly edged back, and she blinked.
– I think you’re hanging on to this Crabbe’s Block out of choice.
She twisted her face away again and stared at the wall – but I kept holding her. I wasn’t letting go. I wasn’t.
We stood there like that for a while, in stalemate. Leave her alone, this voice was saying inside me – the voice of reason, I guess. Let her be. She’s an island. You can’t reach her, no one can.
But then I felt a soft touch on my hair. Well, more on my bald patch, actually. I thought I was imagining it at first, and then I slowly realised it must be her hand. It was like I was an animal and she was stroking me. I hardly dared breathe, the moment was so fragile. Hannah was stroking my head. I looked up, and saw tears on her face. Her glasses were all steamy, and she’d gone red.
– I can’t do it, she said. I want to be a normal person but I don’t know how. I’ve been here so long I –
She was too choked to say anything else, so I just held her to me. We were sitting half on and half off the chair, the table-edge poking into my side. It wasn’t comfortable, but I held her and held her, and it felt right, as though a thing had fallen into place that was meant to. I think she felt it too, she must’ve, because she didn’t try to pull away or anything, she even pressed herself in towards me, and I thought if I could swallow her right up and carry her away inside me she wouldn’t mind, and nor would I.
And that was how we stayed for a long while, and all I wanted was for it to go on for ever.
And then –
Well, this is difficult, this bit. It’s sort of embarrassing but I’m sort of proud of it too and it was one of the high points of my whole life, I guess. Because what happened was that, slowly and then suddenly very urgently and very fast, things started to shift a notch and – well, to firm up.
You could sense it was happening to her too, this thing. Wriggling-body stuff that was sort of beyond anyone’s control, really. It was like a dream. In fact, sometimes I still think it was. Before either of us knew what was going on, we were kind of wrestling against the desk, trying to get bits of our clothes off.
And then there was no stopping it. I was grappling at my belt and my trousers slid with a silent whoosh round my ankles, and I’d hitched her skirt up clumsily, and I was rubbing at her with one hand and also trying to pull her tights down and her knickers to one side and clutching the desk with the other hand to keep steady and then I’d somehow sat her buttocks on the edge of the desk and – well, before we knew it, we were –
We stared into each other’s eyes while we were doing it, in a sort of unbelieving way. Her glasses had fallen off by now, well, they were hanging off one ear actually. I’d never made love like that before, but it seemed the way to do it, with Hannah. Like we were – don’t laugh – communicating with our heads too. There we were, doing it, and I was saying things, maybe shouting them or whispering, I don’t know, and she was too and then –
The next thing I knew I was crying, and so was she.
– Will you visit me in prison? I whispered at last.
– See? says John, beaming. It was a love story!
– It wasn’t. I told you before.
– So what happened?
– That was the end. I never –
I break off. The tears are welling up now and I can’t stop them. Through the blur of water, the Alpine calendar seems to shudder on the wall.
John’s crossing off the days. Just two to go.
SOMEWHERE LIKE MOHAWK
It wasn’t the end: it was the beginning. He’d go to prison, and they’d write to each other, and then one day – She had a shower, turned the jet on hard, tried to make sense of what had happened. Couldn’t. Her mind flitted about, unable to settle anywhere but on him. By five she was back in her office, her hair still damp. A sharp knock at the door made her catch her breath. Instinctively, she reached for her inhaler, and dangled the mask between her hands, ready to use. She wasn’t ready to face anyone yet, not even Leo. This would be him now.
But it wasn’t.
– Good report, Pike said.
She stood up, not wanting to be cornered in a chair. Her hair dripped.
He was looking down at her. Again, she felt the claustrophobia of his presence, the heat from his body. Could he sense what she had done? Did it show on her face? All the turmoil over Harvey made her feel as transparent as an amoeba. She fingered her mask.
– So did you enjoy your experience of people-work, Hannah? Do you feel that it’s stretched you? He was smiling.
– Stretched me? Oh I suppose, yes. She pictured an elastic band, pulled to the maximum, vibrating with tension, about to twang.
– I see, he said slowly. He was looking right into her eyes, now. The air was thick with the silence of it. – We’re posting you elsewhere.
She didn’t get it for a minute. Then gulped, and sat breathing for a while, ready to apply her mask.
– For a bit of R and R.
– Away from Head Office? she asked at last.
Pike nodded.
– Somewhere like Mohawk, I thought. Would that appeal?
Hannah couldn’t think of any words to reach for.
– The Boss is recommending it, in your case. She’s done a need-profile on you. She reckons the people-work has put you under a lot of strain.
– I don’t feel like it has, said Hannah. But she felt suddenly feverish, drained. – Excuse me, I – She put on her mask. This was real.
– Better pack a bag then, he smiled. Ran a finger across her cheek. And then was gone.
Everyone knew where R and R led, in the long-run. To re-positioning. To a gradual or swift easing-out. No one returned from the holiday beach in Mohawk with a sharper mind. Hannah slipped off her mask, and took a few tentative breaths. Then, just as she was switching the air-pump of her inhaler off, her eyes rested on something stuck to the corner of her desk. A little green heart. It puzzled her for a moment, and then she remembered. It had been stuck to Lola Hogg’s disc. She must have put it there and forgotten about it. Carefully, she picked it off and stuck it to her wrist, then headed for Leo’s office.