A Heart Bent Out of Shape (10 page)

‘Was it really that long ago?’

‘I was mostly drunk, I think. And anyway, it
was
a long time ago. Truth is, you’re just half of me, Hadley Dunn.’

‘Forty?’

‘Thereabouts.’

A shout of hysterical laughter burst out and they both turned. A group of students across the cafeteria were fooling around. One was doubled over, laughing noisily, and her friend was smacking her back as though she was choking. Hadley spotted Kristina in the group’s peripheries, talking to a tall, red-headed boy. She looked quickly away before she saw her back.

‘Sorry, Hadley,’ Joel said, ‘I’ve got to go. Fridays are departmental meeting days and you can imagine how long they go on for. Happy Birthday, okay? And thanks for the company.’

It felt like a sudden departure and he left his sandwich half-eaten on his tray. Hadley drank the rest of her coffee slowly.
You’re just half of me
. There were plenty of other ways in which he could have said it but he chose that one. She held on to it, the precise phrasing, turning each word like a jewel in a necklace. The next time she looked up Kristina had gone too.

ten

Lausanne was small enough to feel
as though you
could
always bump into someone, and already faces were becoming familiar: the boy with the giant headphones who roller-bladed in and out of the Ouchy fountains; the librarian from campus, a stringy-looking woman with a cloud of white curls and a rackety bicycle; Hugo Bézier, who appeared cat-like, watching and waiting and smiling as he saw her. Hadley was beginning to treasure such people. They made her feel that she understood the city’s rhythms, and was part of them herself. And there was Joel Wilson, of course. Their paths criss-crossed at the pool, the bookstore, and once on the creaking steps of the
Escaliers du Marché
, the market steps, where he offered her a finger-burning chestnut from a brown paper bag, and she took it, feeling that it was another thing shared. As long as there was the possibility of chance meetings, trips into town had an added charge about them.

She was getting ready for the evening when the phone in her room rang. Hadley expected it to be her mum and dad again, with another chirrupy rendition of
Happy Birthday
.

‘Hadley? I’m a terrible friend. I’m running late, really late. I had to go to Geneva in the end. Will you go on without me? I’ll join you as soon as I can. I’m really sorry.’

‘Kristina, slow down. I thought you said you weren’t going to Geneva.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘Well, why don’t I call the restaurant and delay the table? We’ll go for a drink somewhere first. It’s fine.’

‘No, Hadley, that’s really sweet of you but I’m going to be really late. Please, carry on without me. I don’t want to ruin things.’

‘Where are you now? Are you on your way?’

The train ride from Geneva took about forty-five minutes. It was the evening commuter time, and the carriages would be packed with stiff suits and their fast-ticking watches, and a clattering refreshment trolley that knocked the tips of shined shoes as it passed. She imagined Kristina applying lipstick to her reflection in the window, after Jacques had kissed it all away. She could be in Lausanne within the hour.

‘No, I’m still here. It’s complicated . . . And to make it all worse, I’ve lost my phone, somewhere between here and Geneva, God knows how. I was flustered and must have left it somewhere. I’m on a payphone. Look, I’ve got to go, the money’s running out. Honestly, sweetie, I’ll get there as soon as I can.’

She clicked off the line then. Hadley was left sitting with the receiver in her lap, and the flattening feeling of disappointment.

‘Happy Birthday!’ Jenny cried, as Hadley opened her door.

Bruno pulled the cord in a party popper and spirals of coloured strings fell about her feet. Chase shoved a bottle of beer into her hand.

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s get going. Jenny, knock for Kristina.’

‘She’s running late,’ Hadley said, ‘she’ll see us there.’

Jenny linked her arm through Hadley’s in an unexpected gesture of intimacy. She was laughing loosely, her cheeks were flushed, and Hadley had the feeling that she was late to her own party. Jenny half dragged her along, Bruno and Chase close behind.

‘No Loretta?’ Hadley said, turning.

‘She’s meeting us at the restaurant. She’s bringing her friend Luca. That’s okay, isn’t it?’

‘Fine,’ Hadley said, absently. Her mind turned to Tonridge. If she were at home there would be a messily iced cake ablaze with candles. The television would be chattering with film after film. Sam would be throwing chocolate fingers at her from across the table. Despite the link of Jenny’s arm and the close footsteps of Chase and Bruno, Hadley felt a biting sense of dislocation. She realised how adrift she felt without Kristina.

The restaurant, Le Pin, was tucked away on a street that lay between the station and the lake. With its arched windows, rows of wooden tables and scrubbed tiled floor it felt like a Parisian café; a place more day than night. Crumpled newspapers thumbed by nicotine-stained hands hung on racks. A feathery-looking old man was sitting by the door drinking rosé wine, a racing newspaper spread out on the table before him. But the night-time touches were there if you looked for them. Candle wax dribbled down the necks of wine bottles. At the rear, checked cloths draped some of the tables. Baskets of thinly sliced baguette were stacked by the cash register, ready to be set down with the laminate menus.

‘This place?’ said Chase. ‘Really?’

‘I love it,’ Hadley said. ‘It’s actually perfect.’

They took their seats at the back and a waiter with oil-slicked hair greeted them indifferently. Everyone ordered wine, and lots of it. Loretta joined them, elegant in a black velvet dress, and the newcomer Luca who was tall and slightly stooping, with an ocean of curls. He kissed Hadley on both cheeks and wished her a happy birthday. The wine was red and thin. Bruno wrinkled his nose and ordered vodka instead. They looked over the menus, saw cheese fondue and horse steaks, wild boar with forest berries, dishes of sauerkraut and spindly pairs of sausages. Jenny said she wouldn’t eat horse if you paid her, goading Chase into an argument that seemed to tickle them both more than antagonise. Loretta and Bruno had their heads together, plotting the sharing of a fondue, giggling over the games you had to play if you dropped your bread in the pot. Beside Hadley, Luca sat with his hand wrapped around the stem of his wine glass, smiling.

‘What are you studying?’ he asked, in a bouncy sort of English.

‘Literature,’ she said. ‘American, English and French. You?’

‘French, of course. French language. With some Spanish too. That’s how I know Loretta.’

He smiled again and this time showed all of his teeth. He leant towards her.

‘And is it a happy birthday, so far?’

Hadley briskly flapped the menu. ‘Very happy,’ she said.

By the time the food came they were drunk and getting drunker. Hadley had chosen the daily special, a meat fondue, with thin strips of beef sizzling on the surface of a hot rock. She ate forkfuls of skinny chips, and Luca helped himself to one from time to time, grinning at her as though they were sharing a joke. He kept refilling her wine glass, splashing the cloth so the white squares in amongst the red turned pink. Chase and Jenny had matching beef steaks, and Bruno and Loretta wrestled each other’s fondue sticks and played with the flame beneath the pan. They were increasingly noisy. Just as Hadley was wondering if she was the only who had noticed that Kristina still wasn’t there, she heard the trill of her phone in her bag. She jumped up, her chair screeching on the tiles. She took the call, squeezed into a corridor by the toilet.

‘Hadley, please don’t kill me . . .’

‘Where are you?’

‘Do you like the restaurant?’ Kristina asked. ‘I thought it’d be like one of the ones you’re always reading about in your books. Full of old writer types.’

‘Are you with Jacques?’ she said, tasting the plaintive note in her own voice and hating it.

‘Not for much longer,’ she said, ‘and actually, physically, no. I’m at a stupid payphone again. What a day.’

‘What do you mean, “not for much longer”? For God’s sake, Kristina. You’re always saying things like that and you end up doing nothing.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re not sorry. If you were you’d just decide what you really wanted and leave it at that.’

‘Don’t be like that, Hadley. You don’t understand.’

‘You’re right, I don’t understand. Not tonight.’

‘I’m sorry I’m missing your birthday.’

‘It’s not about that. Well, actually it is, a bit. You’re the one that made me have this dinner, and made everyone come, and you’re not even here.’

‘I didn’t make anyone come. They all wanted to celebrate with you, Hadley.’

‘And there’s some guy called Luca who I don’t even know and he keeps trying to touch my knee under the table.’

‘Hadley, I wanted to give you a special night, but Jacques . . .’

‘Don’t use Jacques as an excuse, okay? It sounds to me like he’s never been anything but honest with you. You’re the one who’s making it into a drama. And you’re the one who’s there with him instead of here with me.’

‘Hadley, you sound jealous, don’t be jealous. And you really don’t need to be, not any more, because . . .’

‘Why do you think I’m jealous? Wait, not because I don’t have a boyfriend? That’s what you think, isn’t it? Was it you that invited this guy Luca? Nothing to do with Loretta at all? God, I’m so stupid, I didn’t even put it together before.’

‘Hadley, I don’t know anyone called Luca, and I wouldn’t do that to you anyway. Listen, I’m sorry you feel like I’ve ruined your birthday.’

‘You know what I think?’

‘What?’

‘You should just stay there with Jacques. Your great mystery man. Just stay there, Kristina. You’re excused from tonight. I’ll send your apologies to the others. Forget it.’

‘I seem to be a let-down to everybody at the moment, Hadley. I just can’t give people what they want.’ She gave a high-pitched laugh. ‘Jacques told me I’m infectious. He makes it sound like a disease.’

‘Well, seems like Jacques and I have something in common, after all.’

Kristina was quiet on the line. When she spoke it was in a small voice, devoid of all gusto.

‘I’m on my way anyway. I’m going to rush, and I’ll get there as quickly as I can.’

‘I told you not to bother, so don’t pretend to hurry because of me. In the end you’ll do what you want anyway.’

Hadley ended the call, and stood for a minute in the hallway. She had never really argued with anyone before and the fact that she had been quite good at it, and held her own in the face of Kristina’s cajoling, depressed her. Instead of feeling righteous and boisterous she was as deflated as an old party balloon.

As she returned to the table she saw that at her place there was a slice of cake crowned with flickering candles, and everyone erupted into uneven song. There was a hug from Jenny, followed by a virulent reproach of the still absent Kristina.
It’s really okay,
Hadley said, into her wine
,
as Jenny pawed at her arm in comfort. And there was Luca, placing his hand on her thigh again, so lightly that it seemed to hover. She shook him off half-heartedly. They ordered rounds of liqueurs, clear and spicy alpine schnapps, and all slipped a little lower in their seats. They talked over one another in unconnected lines of conversation; only Hadley seemed to fall quieter and quieter as time went on.

‘I want to go dancing,’ she said eventually, to whoever was listening. ‘I want to go somewhere I’ve never been before. Anyone want to come?’

Chase talked about a cavern club near the station, where the Portuguese community danced and drank and the music blasted the rails above. Hadley threw down the last of her schnapps and stood up unsteadily. They scattered their crumpled notes on the table and rolled out on to the street.

Outside, the weather had turned and the gently spiralling flakes of early evening had become a rapid, blinding blizzard. Chase and Jenny danced along the pavement, their heads bent against the smack of cold, and were followed by a closely entwined Bruno and Loretta. Luca turned and waited for her, one arm crooked, gesturing for her to link with him.

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘it’s your birthday. You don’t look happy enough to me.’

Hadley shivered, and pulled her hat down lower. She let him take her arm and their feet skidded on the iced pavement. She fell against him.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said, ‘it’s okay, I’ve got you.’

She looked up at him. She felt disorientated. Too much alcohol, too much food, the smarting cold air. She continued to hold his arm.

‘I was horrible to my friend on the phone,’ she said, her words slurring. ‘I didn’t mean to be. Why isn’t she here yet, Luca?’

‘Shhhh,’ he said, ‘I’m going to kiss you now.’

His lips moved towards her; she didn’t move away. It was a long kiss and a deep kiss and even though she didn’t really want it, she let it take her. She heard a cheer go up somewhere behind them, and eventually Luca broke away as a swiftly hurled snowball smattered across his shoes. They both looked up to see Chase laughing, wiping his hands on his jeans. Luca scooped a pile of snow into a ball. He threw it back, missing Chase and knocking Jenny’s bobble hat askew, eliciting a squeal. Then they were all at it, grabbing and hurling and laughing, snow scattering down their coats and at their feet. Hadley stepped back and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She watched them, tired suddenly, with no real inclination to join in. Luca turned to her, his grin wide, and she smiled faintly back. She felt the soft whack of a snowball on her arm and looked to see Loretta, pink-cheeked and merry, waving at her from across the street. She waved in reply. Around her they played on, the blizzard whirling, like children caught in a snow globe.

Lausanne was a genteel city, by day as well as night. Certainly in those winter months, parties mostly stayed indoors, and rarely did the streets throng with reckless people. There were few of the drunken disputes and loitering that seemed commonplace in the streets of British cities past a certain time. If there was trouble at all it was probably dealt with calmly and quietly, with none of the emergency of wailing sirens. But that night, as finally they walked on, their clothes damp from scattered snowballs, their voices loud and bright, the air was cut with a piercing chorus. They couldn’t tell the difference between the Swiss ambulance, police or fire brigades, but there were at least two different sirens criss-crossing each other, and just streets away.

‘Can it be,’ said Chase, whirling round, ‘that for once something exciting is happening in sensible Switzerland?’

Hadley felt Luca’s arm around her waist, pulling her close.

‘I can think of something exciting,’ he said, his lips brushing her ear.

‘Luca,’ she said, beginning to pull away, ‘I really don’t think . . .’

And then he was kissing her again. Behind them the sirens pitched and fell and she shut her eyes. Not kissing him back this time, not exactly, but just letting him. Her mouth just open wide enough. Her hands falling loosely by her sides.

Hadley woke up with a dull and throbbing headache. She pulled her sheets around her face and lay shrouded. The light in her room was bright but somehow heavy. It was probably still snowing outside. The events of last night came back in flashes. Luca’s kiss from nowhere. The snowball fight. The tiny, crowded basement bar where they all seemed to lose one another. Chase lining up a row of bottle-green shots of absinthe, and everyone taking one. The feeling of Luca’s arm around her waist, as her throat burned and stars danced in front of her eyes. They had caught a taxi home, and only Luca, who didn’t live at Les Ormes, stayed behind, standing on the pavement in his long coat, one arm raised in farewell.
You could have let him come back with us
, Jenny had said with a giggle, and Hadley had pretended incomprehension.
He lives on the other side of town
, she’d said.