The Fallout (5 page)

She shrugged.

“She's about how you'd expect her to be. The thing is, though, Dan, she still thinks you're coming back.”

Dan looked pained.

“Obviously it's going to take a while to sink in. I don't expect her to accept it overnight, but you know—” he gazed at Hannah with wide open eyes, and she saw something in them that she'd never noticed before, a kind of hardness glinting beneath the layers of navy and aquamarine like diamond wrapped in tissue paper “—I'm never going back.”

Chapter 5

Josh found having a houseguest even harder than he'd anticipated. It wasn't that Dan was intrusive—they hardly ever saw him, and when they did he seemed always to be on the phone, long calls taken out in the garden, his shoulders hunched against the late September chill. It was just that his presence in the flat was kind of
unsettling
. Not just the physical evidence of him—the suitcase in the corner, from which faded T-shirts and jeans spilled out messily, the extra toothbrush and shaving stuff in the bathroom. It was also about the change in the atmosphere, a sense of restlessness that stirred up the air in the flat, turning what used to be a relaxing environment into a place where you couldn't sit down without feeling like there was something else you really ought to be doing, another world outside your living room window that was going on without you.

It was getting to the stage where he was almost relieved to be at school, where even the giggling of the girls and the rudeness of the boys felt reassuringly unchanged and familiar.

During classes, there was little time to think about anything other than whatever literary classic he was attempting to drum into the largely unreceptive minds of his students. “Not being funny, sir, but why do we have to read the book when we could just go and see the film?”

Only at break times, or like now, driving home in their thirteen-year-old Golf that shuddered alarmingly up the hill toward Crouch End, did his mind swing back to what was going on at home, and he'd find himself frowning as an unexplained knot formed in his stomach and his heart beat slightly faster than normal. When he tried to analyze what was making him feel so on edge, he found he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't that Dan ever got in the way. He was rarely around, so why was his presence, or rather his absence, so unnerving?

“Maybe you're just jealous because he's out having fun while you're stuck at home with me and Lil,” Hannah had teased him the night before.

Josh had made a joke of it, pressing his nose up against the front window as if desperate to escape, much to the delight of Lily, who insisted on climbing onto a chair to push her own plump cheeks up against the cold glass. Now, though, he was starting to wonder, uncomfortably, if Hannah might not have hit upon something. Not that he was jealous of Dan. Josh didn't envy his friend the late nights in crowded bars, or wherever it was he was hanging out when he wasn't in their flat. No, it was more than that—something to do with the sight of that suitcase in the corner, so compact and portable, and the way Dan breezed in and out without having to give account of himself. The whiff of fresh starts that clung to him. It was that sense of the future opening up. Josh felt, by comparison, washed-up and overburdened.

In private, Hannah griped about Dan's presence. She hated not being able to wander into the living room if she woke up during the night to work at the dining room table or scroll through Twitter, and she resented the clumsily folded pile of blankets on the end of the sofa whenever they sat down to watch TV. But as Josh waited at the traffic lights, gently revving the accelerator and hoping against hope that this wouldn't be the day the Golf's dodgy clutch gave up the ghost altogether, he found himself trying to view Dan through Hannah's eyes. Yes, his presence might be inconvenient, but might not his newfound singledom also give him a new kind of cache, a sense of danger and alpha-maleness that had been better concealed when he was a safely married man? Josh could see how a man like Dan, clearly desired by other women, successful at work and suddenly back on the market, might be very attractive, particularly when he and Hannah were so bogged down in debt themselves. More chokingly, might not this clear evidence of Dan's healthy sex life throw the recent deficiencies of their own into sharp relief?

This jealousy that had crept up from nowhere was like a slow-acting virus you're not even conscious of until your throat closes up and,
wham
, you find it's overtaken your entire system. It's not as if Hannah had ever expressed the slightest interest in Dan. In fact, it tended to be Josh who leaped to his friend's defense in the face of Hannah's disapproval. She'd once said, “Dan is like cheap paint. Looks great to begin with but give him a rub with a damp cloth and he'll come off in your hand.” Josh had argued on Dan's behalf, but inside he'd glowed with pleasure at the unspoken inference (or so he liked to imagine) that he, by contrast, was a man of substance.

Turning onto their street with its mishmash of Victorian and 1920s houses, many of them converted (badly) into flats, Josh's heart sank when he noted the lack of parking spots. Cruising past his house, he felt a twinge of anger when he saw Sasha's SUV parked right outside in prime position. Couldn't they have just one evening to themselves, free of drama? While Dan was the model houseguest, hardly ever around but entertaining and largely discreet when he was, Sasha was the nonhouseguest from hell. Over the past week, Josh had become used to coming home to find Sasha either curled up on the sofa sobbing into whichever of Dan's crumpled T-shirts she'd fished out of his suitcase, or else pacing the room on those tiny little legs that always looked to Josh as if they shouldn't be capable of supporting an adult human body, ranting repeatedly about midlife crises and responsibilities (or lack thereof) while Hannah brought her cups of tea or glasses of wine, and Josh made endless rounds of fish fingers and pasta with pesto for the girls. It wasn't that he begrudged her anything—it was just that he and Hannah and Lily had developed such an easy, pleasant routine and now everything was so... There was that word again:
unsettled.

As soon as he walked through the door of the flat, he could tell it wasn't one of Sasha's good days. Or rather, not one of her less-bad days. The tension rose up to meet him as he lingered in the hallway, taking far longer than he needed to hang up his jacket. He could hear September's shrill voice coming from behind Lily's closed bedroom door. “No, no. Not like that, Lil-e-e-e,” she said, stretching out the last syllable of his daughter's name so that it hung, gratingly, in the air. Toby was curled up in his basket outside their bedroom as if he, too, had had enough of all the drama.

Hannah came out of the living room bearing two empty mugs, clearly destined for the kitchen.

“Oh,” she said. “It's you.”

Josh's heart sank. He'd had a tricky day at work. Jake Schofield and his little gang were acting up again. Something was definitely brewing with that lot. After teaching for fifteen years, Josh had developed a sixth sense for incipient trouble. Then there'd been an awkward departmental meeting where he and Pat had disagreed. It was only a trivial thing—whether to set course work around a production of
Macbeth
the Year Elevens were going to see. Josh was in favor but Pat thought they should encourage the kids to regard theater as a pleasure rather than a chore. The issue had been resolved with minimum fuss, with Pat's view eventually winning over the majority, but it had left a sour taste in Josh's mouth. All afternoon, he'd been looking forward to getting home and shaking off the stress of the day, but here was yet more stress topped off by a halfhearted greeting from his wife.

“That's nice. You could sound a little happier to see me. I've had a shit day at work in case you're interested.”

Hannah was in the kitchen banging around unnecessarily.

“Yes, well, at least you've done some work. I've done absolutely nothing, and I have an article due on Monday.”

Hannah was hissing under her breath. The noise joined with the metallic whistle of their old kettle and the clanking of crockery into an unpleasant cacophony that irritated Josh's ears.

“You're just going to have to tell her you need a bit of time to yourself.”

“I can't! You can see the state she's in.”

As if on cue, Sasha appeared in the doorway. She seemed even thinner than when Josh had last seen her the day before, and her small, hollowed-out face bore an expression of nervous anticipation, which drained instantly when she saw him.

“Oh, hello, Josh,” she said, turning away. “I thought you might be Dan.

In the living room, over yet another in what appeared to be a long line of cups of tea, Sasha once again returned to her favorite subject—Dan's behavior and how it was clearly symptomatic of some kind of psychological crisis, didn't Josh think? Well, Josh didn't bloody well think, actually. Josh was too exhausted to think. All he wanted to do was sit down and have half an hour of peace in which to read the paper or listen to music, or just chat with Hannah about her day.

“Why don't you ask Dan?” Josh said.

If Sasha noticed his slightly snappish tone, she didn't let on.

“You know he's insisting we don't talk to each other until the weekend.
We need to give each other time to breathe.
”

Sasha's imitation of her husband's laid-back, almost Californian drawl, with its slight inflection at the end of the sentence, was uncannily accurate.

“What do you think, Josh?” Sasha's hazel eyes had an unnerving yellow glint to them, like a cat's. “Is he starting to come around yet? Does he miss us, do you think? You're his friend. He must have talked to you about it.”

“Not really.”

“Well, how does he seem, then? Is he down? Subdued? Does he give you the impression he's having regrets?”

Josh had a flashback to the night before, when Dan had been entertaining them with stories of the shoot he'd done that day involving a flatulent Great Dane and its nerdy trainer. Dan did not give the impression of a man who was consumed by doubt. He shrugged uncomfortably.

“You know what Dan's like. He plays things pretty close to his chest.”

“Mummy!”

The shout coming from Lily's room was so piercing it could only belong to one person.

“Mummy! Come here. I need you.”

Sasha stayed on the sofa, with her hands wrapped around her mug, still frowning at what Josh had just said.

“Mummy!”

“I think September might be calling you.”

Sasha didn't respond.

“September. She's yelling for you.”

“Oh, right. It's okay, sweetie. I'm coming.”

But still Sasha made no attempt to move off the sofa. Josh waited for a moment and then, knowing how Lily hated raised voices, he went to investigate.

Lily's normally neat bedroom looked postapocalyptic. Boxes of toys had been emptied onto the floor, the wardrobe door was open and clothes were spilling out in a tidal wave of pink and flowers (they'd tried to get Lily interested in less stereotypical, more androgynous clothing, but to no avail). Someone had obviously been trying to make a fort out of Lily's bedcovers, which were pulled off the bed and draped haphazardly between a chair and table. Lily's prized collection of kitten stickers lay scattered like confetti over every surface.

“Is everything okay?” Josh frowned, taking in the carnage.

Lily took after him in feeling more comfortable when things were calm and orderly. Though her little round face lit up in a smile when she saw him, he could tell by her eyes that she was worried. Something in Josh constricted at the sight of her and her transparent conviction that he would make everything all right.

“I wanted Mummy,” said September, who was kneeling on the floor wearing Lily's treasured Snow White dress, with lipstick smeared all over her mouth.

“Mummy's a bit busy. Can I help?”

“No. I need her to do my hair special. You can't do that.”

Josh agreed that doing hair special fell outside of his area of expertise.

“I'll ask Sasha to come in when she's finished talking to Lily's mummy, shall I?”

September eyed him coolly.

“Are you coming to live with me?”

Josh was used to Lily's non sequiturs but this one from September caught him unaware.

“Well, my daddy has come to live with Lily, so Lily's daddy must come to live with us.”

From the corner of his eye, Josh saw Lily's eyes widen and her chin start to tremble.

“I'm sorry, September. That's not how things work, I'm afraid. I live here, with Hannah and Lily and Toby.”

“But that means Lily gets two daddies and that's not fair.”

Now both little girls looked to be on the edge of tears.

“This is only for a few days, September, while your mummy and daddy sort things out.”

“Then he's coming home?”

“You'd better talk to him about that, sweetheart.”

The endearment came out clumsily. While Josh had no problem being lovey-dovey with Lily, he always felt awkward around other people's children, sure he sounded phony and, even worse, creepy.

Now September started crying in earnest, her brown eyes brimming with tears.

“I want my daddy,” she wailed
. “I want my daddy!”

Finally Sasha appeared in the doorway.

“Oh, poor baby. Come here.”

Throwing herself to the floor, she swept up September into a hug, crushing the little girl's head to her bony rib cage.

“I know you miss your daddy.”

As she stroked her daughter's curls, Sasha gazed up at Josh, all the time keeping up a stream of whispered endearments into her daughter's ear, and he was shocked when he finally put a name to the expression on her face.

Triumph.

* * *

“Tell me again what he said.”

It was the third time Josh had been through it. He was tired. He just wanted to have dinner and slump on the sofa, but instead he was being quizzed about every single conversation he'd had with Dan, every conceivable nuance of every word.

“He said he felt like he'd been sleepwalking through the last few years of his life, and now he's waking up.”

“Yes, but that could be a good thing, couldn't it? It could mean that he's finally learning what's important to him, couldn't it?”