AARON
At last Robert says something.
“Others?”
Jay doesn’t seem to understand. So much for university education.
“You slept with your sister.”
“Stepsister,” Jay tries to say, but Robert isn’t listening.
“You slept with Hannah!” Robert’s shouting and when he steps across the room Jay actually flinches, but it’s Hannah his father reaches out to, a hand on her shoulder. “She’s fifteen. You slept with your—” This time he can’t even say it — the horror is insurmountable.
Jay starts, “I didn’t—”
The look Robert shoots him stops Jay’s protest dead. His father turns to look at me. “And you? October…” His eyes widen as it dawns on him. “You knew all along.”
I want to shake my head. I want to say no. “I didn’t know it was Jay until—”
What is it that I’m going to say? But I don’t get the chance to finish the sentence.
“You need to leave,” Robert says, quietly.
I look at Hannah, her eyes tear-glazed and swollen, but it’s her mother who answers.
“You lied to us, Aaron.” Eyes as anguished as her daughter’s. “How could you? You must have known this would—”
“It’s not Aaron’s fault,” Hannah tries, but it was never going to work.
“Get out.” Robert once more. “This is a family matter. You are not family.”
And I leave, walk down the road to where my mum has been waiting in the car. We say nothing as she pulls away and I rest my head on the glass, thinking of the way the family I’d become a part of threw me out of their brood.
It’s done. I’m no longer the father of Hannah’s baby.
MONDAY 7TH JUNE
AARON
It’s important to give people space. I understand that, which is why I have only sent one text, one email and called her mobile once. No reply. I draw the line at calling her house phone; I don’t want to risk speaking to Paula or Robert. Or worse, Jay.
Whether I get through or not, I don’t for a second doubt that Hannah knows I’m here for her. But what Hannah needed was the father and now, finally, she’s got him. If Jay’s still around, does it really matter where her best friend is?
HANNAH
Mum has put my life on lockdown until something is worked out. I don’t know how taking my phone away and disconnecting the Wi-Fi is going to help, but no one in this family is thinking straight at the moment. For some reason Mum seems intent on stopping me from talking to Aaron — as if he’s to blame for any of this.
When we get to school that afternoon, Mum tells me that she’d prefer it if I waited in the car before my exam.
“Why?”
The sigh she lets out sounds as if she’s so tired of talking to me that any more words will drain her completely. “I don’t want you distracted.”
Mum watches me watch Aaron walk past with Gideon. How can I describe to her — to anyone — how I feel? Aaron’s not someone who churns me up the way Jay does — he calms me down, keeps me sane. Can’t she remember how hard it was when we fell out in the holidays? Doesn’t she know that seeing him look at me as he walks past, hurt that I’m not getting out and waddling over, is breaking my heart? Worse — it’s breaking his. Will he know that I think about him all the time, when I’m meant to be thinking about a thousand other things?
He is my best friend in the whole wide world.
Surely he knows that without me sending a text?
But Aaron’s not like me. If he were in my seat, he would unclick the seatbelt, swing open the door and run across the tarmac, shout my name and tell me, to my face, that I am his best friend. Just to remind me. Just in case.
But I’m not as brave as Aaron. Despite my track record, I cannot bring myself to disobey my mum. Not on this one.
AARON
All I need to know is whether she’s OK. That is all.
Even as I tell myself this, I know that I am lying. I need to know whether she needs me because I still need her. Hannah and her baby are a part of my life now. I don’t want them to slip out of it.
HANNAH
I’m the last person to take my seat in the hall. I look over at Aaron, but he is looking at the clock. I look at the paper on my desk and the pens and instruments I’ve brought with me and I look at the back of the person in front. You can see her bra through the top she’s wearing — the slightest hint of back fat nudging over the top of the elastic. I run the flat of my fingertips up my own back, as if I might be scratching it, but I can’t tell what my back looks like. For all I know I could have a full-on back boob to match the pair at the front.
I look at Aaron again, taking in everything about his face, the lashes, the lips, the scar on his jaw that I now know came from a night he would rather forget — from a life before this one. I want to tell him about my communications blackout. I have screamed, I have cried, I have punched the wall — I could show him the grazed knuckles — but I have not been able to escape.
“If you set foot outside this house without my permission, you will not be allowed back.” And I can’t risk that being true — for my baby’s sake, not mine. I haven’t even been allowed to see Gran in case she smuggles Aaron in for a meeting. Instead I had to watch as my paranoid mother called her and told her what had happened. I was crying with shame — why couldn’t she have let me tell her? Eventually Mum handed me the phone.
“Hannah? Are you OK?” Gran sounded worried.
“Not really.”
“Do you remember what I said? That you’re a brave girl and I love you?”
I’d thought she was about to tell me that she was taking it back, but she didn’t.
“I should’ve added that you are the strongest girl I know. The strongest person. Remember that, love. This’ll sort itself out and I will be here for you as soon as your mother comes to her senses, which she will. She always does.”
“I love you, Gran,” I sobbed, but Mum was hovering close, beckoning for the handset once more.
At least Mum and I are talking, if you can call screaming matches talking. Robert and Jay aren’t speaking. Jay’s still at his mother’s — Robert told him that if he ran back to university he may as well stay there and, like me, Jay’s not prepared to put that threat to the test. And Lola, my rock, is gone. No one knew how to tell her what was happening, so they’ve sent her to Robert’s parents until everyone stops shouting at each other and we’ve worked out how to patch up our fallen-apart family.
None of them seem to realize that, for me, Aaron is family too.
AARON
I am here to do an exam. I am not here to worry about Hannah, or think about what’s happening between us.
I look down at my paper.
I’ve to bisect an angle.
Best get on.
HANNAH
It’s the end of the exam and I reckon I’ve done worse than I did in my mocks. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get a minus grade. So much for my mum’s theory about distractions.
Sitting this close to Aaron, not being able to speak to him, is killing me. As soon as my paper’s collected, I’m ready to leap up and out of my seat. Now is the only chance I’ve got to see him, to talk, to explain…