She tried to tell me what curry to order because Jay said I liked spicy food.
“You don’t want a korma, Han.” “Han” is not an acceptable thing for her to call me. That is the name that only my family and close friends use. She will never be either. “Order a rogan josh. Or a biryani — ooh, look, they’ve got prawns. Do you like prawns? I love them.”
“No. I don’t like prawns.”
“Oh, Hannah, of course you like prawns.” Mum patted my hand as if I was no older than Lola. “She likes prawns, Imogen.”
It doesn’t matter whether I like prawns or not. I’m not meant to eat them and I was having a hard enough time trying to work out whether anything too spicy would give me the shits.
In the end I settled for a tikka and a naan — should be safe with the same thing as Lolly, surely?
Jay’s looking at me funny across the table. When no one’s looking he mouths, “Are you OK?” at me. I just look at him, then look at her and back at him.
Why hadn’t he said he was bringing home his new girlfriend?
AARON
I finish my book and look at the clock beside my bed. It’s late — nearly midnight. All of a sudden I feel entirely exhausted. Not because I’ve been awake too long, or exerted myself too much by reading Catch-22 in one afternoon, although that’s no mean feat.
It is living that exhausts me. Sometimes it’s all I can do to get through a day and today has been especially hard.
Perhaps because for the first time in six months I didn’t want to spend it alone.
HANNAH
So much for my plan. Jay went straight to his room with Imogen when we got back — he didn’t even come down to say goodnight to Lolly properly.
But when I come out of the bathroom he’s there, waiting.
“What’s up?” he says.
I just look at him. “It’s the first time you come home and you bring your girlfriend with you. Could you not tear yourself away from her for one night to spend some time with your family?”
Jay folds his arms across his chest, hiding the familiar faded lettering of his ancient Family Guy T-shirt. “Harsh, much?”
“Is it?” I say and I walk past him to my room angry with him, with his girlfriend, with myself. That’s the only chance I’ll have to tell him face-to-face and I bottled it.
MONDAY 23RD NOVEMBER
AARON
Today I’m sitting the first of my mocks. In one hand I have a clear zip-lock pencil case containing a pencil loaded with new lead, three black fine-liner pens, a short ruler and enough geometry gadgets to shake a perfectly perpendicular stick at. In my other hand I’m holding a calculator that has more functions than a Smartphone and a “lucky” coin — a quarter stamped flat in front of my eyes in Disneyland when I was ten years old. I’ve taken it to every exam since and my results have been pretty good. I doubt this has anything to do with the coin, but it’s small, it’s something to play with between questions and, what the hell, it might be lucky.
It’s Prendergast, whose lesson we’re missing, who opens the doors, not bothering to shush us properly when we file in and murmur to one another as we work out where to sit. It takes me a while to find my seat but when I do, I see I’m sitting across the aisle from Hannah.
Sheppard. Tyler. Makes sense.
She smiles at me as she pulls her chair out. She’s got a litre bottle of water with her.
“Thirsty?” I ask, looking at the bottle.
“Uh-huh,” she says and takes a sip straightaway.
“Pace yourself. You might run out.”
“Ha, ha,” Hannah says. “You’re just jealous.”
I smile. Then I realize everyone else has settled in and is watching the clock at the front of the hall.
“Good luck!” I give Hannah a cheesy thumbs up and she rolls her eyes.
“You too,” she mouths around another swig from her bottle. Then Prendergast is walking past, handing out spare paper and I start to get a little bit nervous, a little bit excited and my throat dries up.
I wish I’d brought a bottle of water.
HANNAH
It’s a bad sign when you don’t understand the first question. Even worse if you don’t understand the first fucking page.
I close my eyes and wonder if this is just another exam-based nightmare. Then I try turning the page.
AARON
Hannah’s on to the next page already? I know the first lot of questions are pretty straightforward but…
Hang on. She’s turning the next page. And the next.
My heart goes out to her. If she can’t answer the first question then she’s screwed.
Whatever’s going on with Hannah mustn’t distract me. One of the concerns about moving was that my grades might slide. I’ve got to get at least a B in Maths or Dad will kill me — Mum will hand him the knife.
I finish the first page and move on to the next. Harder questions and I get quite involved in one of them, so much so that I don’t realize it’s taken me fifteen minutes to get an answer and I’m not entirely convinced it’s the right one. I’ll check it later.
I glance over to Hannah, wondering how she’s doing, hoping she’s found something to answer. It’s all about getting started. Once she answers one question she’ll get in the zone, get calmer and the things that floored her at first won’t seem so daunting.
She’s not looking at the paper, which is pushed to one corner of her desk and threatening to slide off the edge. She’s simply staring straight ahead.
As I look, I see a tear trickle down her cheek. She sniffs, really quietly and presses the sleeve of her shirt to her nose. She can probably feel me looking, so I turn away, back to my paper. It’s not as if there’s anything I can do to help her.
FRIDAY 11TH DECEMBER
HANNAH
It is 11 a.m. I have an appointment for my first scan in fifteen minutes’ time.
My life is such a mess. The only person on this planet who knows I’m pregnant, apart from the doctor and the midwives who’re always sucking the blood out of me and then checking the pressure to see if I’ve actually got any left, is my gran. My eighty-three-year-old gran, who lives in a semi-residential home and has to book trips out two days in advance, who is on so much medication I’m surprised that hugs from her aren’t on the list of banned substances for pregnant people.
The thought of telling Mum proper terrifies me now that I’ve left it so long — it’s like a rock at the bottom of my stomach. Last week I heard her talking to Robert whilst they watched the news. I was sitting in the dining room trying to jam something useful about Citizenship into my head, but the door was open and Mum talks loudly when she’s off on one.