Paper Chains (7 page)

Hannah interrupted to reach a hand out and touch India. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said quietly.

‘That’s okay. To be honest, it was as though she was waiting, just long enough to make sure I was going to be okay, before she could let go herself. Once she was gone, I had no family, no reason to stay in Perth any longer. But what I did have was money. Turns out my grandmother had been putting aside money for me since the day I came to live with her. She’d made some decent investments as well. She never even told me about it though – I found out when the lawyer came to see me with her will. At first I wasn’t sure what I should do with it, you know, should I be sensible? Invest in real estate? Donate it to charity? But then I realised that I deserved to do something for me. That’s when I started travelling. As it turns out, I haven’t needed to touch much of the money anyway – travelling on a budget is more fun. But it’s nice to know that it’s there . . . if I need it.’

‘Wow, that’s one hell of a story,’ said Hannah. India nodded, as though that was the end of it. But then Hannah spoke. ‘But it doesn’t answer my question. Okay, so you’ve had some difficult times, and maybe you want to see the world, experience life because you get how precious it is – after everything you’ve been through. But why does that mean you have to keep moving, and why does that stop you from forming a lasting relationship with someone you’re clearly hung up on?’

‘Long story. And like I’ve told you before, you’re not the only one with secrets. So unless you’d like to open up about your sordid past, you’re gonna want to lay off, girl.’

‘Fine. Game of pool?’

The conversation returned to lighter topics as India racked up the balls and Hannah chalked a cue and prepared to break. When they started to play, Hannah forgot all about the slight tension that had arisen between them when she had perhaps pushed India a bit too hard in her attempts to figure out exactly what it was that she was hiding from. Instead she relaxed into the game and the comforting sounds of the balls rolling and clinking and the feel of the solid, cool pool cue beneath her hands. Before her parents had divorced and she and her mother had moved into a small apartment, they had lived in a large house with a separate games room off the garage, which housed her father’s pride and joy – his billiards table. When she was small, Hannah had learned to play standing on a small white stool, which she would carry around the table and place wherever she needed to set up her shot. Throughout her life, her billiard skills had often led to guys approaching her in bars and pubs, attempting to pick up the ‘cute little pool shark’. It was funny how certain talents always seemed to turn men on – girls who could surf, girls who could skol a beer or win a game of poker. Although in Hannah’s experience, they usually started to get annoyed when they realised that they were actually never going to beat her.

India, however, seemed delighted to discover Hannah’s hidden talent. ‘Awesome,’ she whispered when a pair of guys headed over to challenge them for the table. ‘We’re going to kick their arses and I probably won’t even have to sink a single ball.’

It was at the end of the second game that things started to go wrong. At first, India had been enjoying the playful banter between herself and one of the guys – the tall blond one – as Hannah had continued to confidently pocket one ball after another. But then she began to notice a change in his demeanour. He wasn’t enjoying losing. And the more irritated he became with the game, the more aggressively he began to flirt with her.

‘Okay,’ she said lightly as they watched Hannah sink the black yet again. ‘That’s it, we gave you best of three and you still lost. Time to take a hike.’ She moved pointedly around the other side of the table and Hannah looked up at her, seeming to suddenly become aware of India’s tone.

‘Or we could just go if you like?’ Hannah suggested.

‘Best of five,’ said the tall blond, while his friend shrugged and looked bored. He circled the table and positioned himself in between Hannah and India. ‘Your friend here can keep carrying the game for you and we can get to know each other a bit better.’ He stepped in close and placed his hands on her hips. India tried to pull back, but his fingers tightened. ‘I’m not going to lose with you as well,’ he whispered in her ear.

India was holding still, trying to decide what the best course of action was going to be – knee him in the balls maybe? – when she felt another hand close around her arm and she was yanked sideways. Before she had realised what was happening, there was a set of soft lips on hers. Her brain took a moment to register. Wait a second, was Hannah
kissing
her? They pulled apart and then Hannah turned away from her to face the ape of a guy who had moments ago had his hands creeping towards India’s backside. ‘Sorry, buddy, but she’s not your type,’ Hannah said firmly. With that, she swung back around, grabbed India by the hand and strode out of the pub.

Outside on their way back through the beer garden India stopped to stare in amazement at Hannah. ‘What is it?’ Hannah asked, turning back to look at her. ‘Am I a bad kisser?’ she asked worriedly. India burst out laughing. ‘Hannah!’ she exclaimed. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘I thought you needed help. I couldn’t think what else to do. Sorry – should I not have done that?’ she asked.

‘No, it’s fine – you just, took me by surprise, that’s all. You realise you’ve been like a completely different person tonight, right?’

‘Well, you were the one who told me to loosen up. Oh and I know what you’re going to say next and the answer is no.’

‘No what?’

‘No you haven’t just figured out my secret – I’m not gay, so you don’t need to help me come out, okay?’

They both dissolved into laughter then and as they made their way down the road, India thought,
I think I just made a new best friend.

CHAPTER FIVE

It was Thursday again, Hannah’s day off. She was woken early by the sound of the front door buzzer being pressed insistently, over and over. She sat up in bed feeling bleary and confused. What time was it? What day was it? And who was at the bloody door? She climbed out from under the covers and stumbled over to the intercom with the heels of her hands pressed hard against her eyes.

‘Hello?’ she said croakily when she pressed the button to respond.

‘Hannah!’ came back India’s unmistakably bright and bubbly voice. ‘Get dressed and come down, babe. I’ll wait out front.’

Hannah glanced down at her watch then leaned heavily against the intercom. ‘India! It’s
five
in the morning!’

‘Yep. Hurry up.’

Hannah pulled away from the speaker and stood still for a moment, staring stupidly at the wall. Last night she and India had been out drinking – again. Although now that she thought about it, India’s drinks had pretty much all been of the non-alcoholic variety. Hannah’s, on the other hand, had not. The top of her mouth had that furry carpet feel and her stomach was turning as she remembered that her drink of choice last night had been vodka. Ugh, evil, evil vodka.

She took one longing look back at her bed and then dragged herself into the shower, reminding herself to make sure she took a couple of paracetamol on the way downstairs.

India tried not to laugh when she saw Hannah finally emerge from the apartment block. Her face had just a slight tinge of green to it and she was hiding her eyes behind giant, dark sunglasses.

‘Did I wake you, sweetie?’ she asked in a mock cutesy voice.

‘Yes,’ Hannah replied bluntly.

‘Told you not to drink so much last night.’

‘You did not! You were the one doing the ordering.’

‘Hmm. Good point. Ah well, never mind. It’s your day off, let’s do something.’

‘What did you have in mind?’

India shrugged. ‘I don’t know, let’s just get on a train and
go
somewhere.’
Because you’re so close Hannah, you’re just so close to opening up.
She grabbed Hannah’s arm and pulled her down the last few steps to the footpath. ‘Come on. Fresh air will do you good.’

‘Coffee would do me better,’ India heard Hannah mumble in response, but India just started striding down the road in the direction of the tube station, forcing Hannah to follow her.

They ended up travelling down to Brighton Beach for the day. It took over two hours and two trains to get there and Hannah complained most of the way.
The sun’s too bright. The train’s rocking too much, I’m going to be sick.
India spent the trip entertaining herself by making fun of Hannah.
Nothing better than feeling fit and healthy when someone else is hung-over
, she thought, as she waved her sausage roll in front of Hannah’s face, making her clap her hands to her mouth.

Although by the time they arrived, India herself was actually starting to feel a little ill. Hmm, maybe she shouldn’t have grabbed that sausage roll from the food cart at Blackfriars station when they had changed trains. She didn’t admit this to Hannah though; it was too much fun being all superior about the fact that she had remained sober the previous evening.

They spent the day using India’s camera to take artistic photos of the Helter Skelter at the end of the pier, the merry-go-round with the sea in the background and the mad Londoners who were braving the ocean despite the fact that the water temperature was still less than ten degrees. They both agreed that while Brighton was beautiful, it basically didn’t compare to Australian beaches – and India found herself feeling quite loyal towards her old local beaches back home.

India and her grandmother used to spend Christmas every year at the beach. They would pack prawns and salads into an esky, take fresh buttered bread rolls, one bottle of lemonade and one bottle of champagne, then catch the one and only bus that ran on Christmas Day to the nearest beach. To India, it was the perfect way to spend Christmas – just the two of them, sitting on the picnic rug that they spread out across the white sand. Usually in the afternoon, her grandmother would take a nap in the shade of a tree while India swam in the ocean. It was why India had been drawn to the beach last Christmas in Ibiza – her first Christmas without her grandmother – but it simply hadn’t been the same.

‘Seriously, what’s with all the pebbles?’ asked India, as they stood on the beach, watching yet another swimmer emerge from the surf with their arms wrapped around themselves, shivering.

‘Did you know that there are apparently over six hundred million rocks on this beach?’ asked Hannah in response.

‘Really? And where did you get this very useful piece of information?’ India asked with interest.

‘Something my dad told me when I was a kid. He’d been on a business trip to England. Must have decided to visit Brighton while he was here, because he brought me back one of those snow globes with a little model of Brighton pier inside. It’s sort of weird looking at the life-size version of it actually. Like I keep expecting to see snowflakes swirling down around it. Anyway, it’s just one of those facts that stuck with me.’

India watched as Hannah’s eyes remained fixed on the pier and she thought for a moment that Hannah was about to cry. But then she suddenly brightened and suggested they find somewhere for lunch, and India decided that just for today, she would leave Hannah be – no probing her for information or demanding to know her secrets. Today, she would give her a break – a proper day off, from everything.

They stayed in Brighton until late in the afternoon, exploring the town, taking more photos – of the pavilion, of art sculptures, of pretty buildings and of interesting people if they thought they could do it without getting caught. On the train on their way home, India fell asleep with her head resting on Hannah’s shoulder and she woke to the sound of Hannah’s voice as she gently eased her upright. ‘Sorry – our stop,’ Hannah whispered.

‘You’re much nicer than me,’ India said as she sat up and stretched. ‘I would have elbowed me in the ribs after what I did to you this morning.’

‘Ha. Couldn’t do it to you – you looked so peaceful.’

They headed out to the platform and India gave Hannah a hug as they said goodbye. ‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘today was fun. Been nice lately, just hanging out with you instead of always meeting new people, making new friends every bloody day.’

‘You should stick in the one place more often then,’ Hannah replied.

‘Maybe . . .’ said India.

A couple of days later Hannah convinced India to – reluctantly – join her for an early morning jog before her shift at the museum.

‘How’s things?’ Hannah asked conversationally as they wound their way along the track.

‘Are you joking?’ gasped India. ‘You want to have a
chat
while we’re doing this?’ Her face was bright red and her chest was heaving. Hannah on the other hand had barely a pink spot on her cheekbones. She would jog lightly on the spot to keep moving each time India stopped to catch her breath.

‘Sorry, I’ll slow the pace down a bit . . . better?’

‘Oh yeah, that’s much better,’ responded India sarcastically.

Hannah relented and slowed right down to a walk, realising as she did just how much more you noticed when the world wasn’t whipping past in a blur. They were following a runners’ track that wound its way through the outer suburbs of London. In a park on their right a couple were kissing passionately on a picnic rug. A dog was prancing around them, every now and then dropping a saliva-covered ball by their feet and waiting hopefully before picking it up again and resuming its prancing.

Hannah waited until India’s breathing had returned to normal before she tried to restart a conversation.

‘What’s been happening?’ she asked.

‘Not a lot.’

‘Ready to tell me the truth about why you won’t be with Simon?’

‘Ready to tell me the truth about why you’re in London?’ India retorted.

‘I asked you first.’

‘Child,’ said India companionably.

‘All right,’ said Hannah, ‘I’ve got something to tell you. Something
real
, as you would say. After you told me all about your parents the other week, it made me want to tell you about mine too.’ She paused to take a breath, to find the right words. ‘My mum’s dead too. She killed herself . . . almost four years ago now. I know it’s not the same as your circumstances – you didn’t even get to meet your mum. I just felt like I should tell you.’

India put her arm out to stop Hannah. ‘Let’s sit,’ she suggested and they stepped off the path and wandered through the grass to a large tree where they both flopped down, Hannah resting against the trunk, India lying flat on her back, eyes on the sky.

‘Tell me about her,’ said India.

‘My mum?’

India nodded.

‘Which one?’ she replied with a dry laugh.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Sorry, I’m being confusing. It’s just that I’ve always sort of thought of my mum as being two different people. There’s the mum I had before my parents divorced, and the one that I had afterwards, the one she turned into.’

‘Ahh.’

‘For the first fifteen years of my life, Mum was just . . . Mum. You know, your average run-of-the-mill mother. She wore pale blue denim jeans and nice blouses. She kept her hair long but never wore it out. She could be fun, she could get mad, she drove me to netball practice, she forgot to pick me up from swimming once and I remember burning my tongue on the hot chocolate from the vending machine while I waited. There was one time when we went to Dreamworld on a holiday to Queensland. I was eight; I climbed all the way up thirteen flights of stairs to the top of a waterslide, only to be told I wasn’t big enough to go down the slide. I had to walk all the way back down those stairs and I was sobbing my heart out the whole way. When I got to the bottom, Mum hugged me and called them fuckers and bought me an ice-cream cone with five scoops and I can remember thinking she was the most amazing mum in the world.

‘And then I found out Mum and Dad were getting a divorce and it took me completely by surprise and it seemed like it took Mum by surprise as well. Anyway, from that day when Dad left she started changing and kept changing. Withdrew from the world I guess. In the early years I kept trying to snap her out of it, to bring her back. But eventually I started to resent her. I missed the old her and I was angry with her for changing. I moved out of home when I was nineteen, shared a house with three complete strangers. I still saw her, but not often; by then she wasn’t even leaving home any more. Then one day I got the phone call. She had finally left her apartment. For just a second I thought it was good news – maybe she was getting better. Maybe she was coming back. But I was wrong. She had walked straight to Milsons Point train station, waited on the platform for the next train and then stepped out in front of it. Ever since that day I can’t look at that giant smiling face at the entrance to Luna Park without almost vomiting on the spot.’

Which really ruined the happy memories I used to have of that place
, Hannah thought bitterly.

India reached an arm out and squeezed Hannah’s hand. ‘Horrible,’ was all she could say.

Afterwards Hannah kicked herself for thinking that telling India about her mum would help her to open up. All she had succeeded in doing was bringing the focus of the conversation back to herself – as usual.
Idiot.