Cath Staincliffe - Split Second

‘She is amazing. Do you want me to have a word with her? Buck her up a bit?’

‘No, ta. I need to do it. I’m not going to let this spoil things for her. It’s all she ever wanted, Deanne.’

‘I know.’ Deanne took her coat off, went and sat down. She stared at Luke. ‘It’s a crying shame,’ she said.

That was all it took and Louise was gulping and sobbing and the stupid, bloody tears were spilling through her fingers.

‘Louise! Aw, babe.’

Louise was up, half blind, seeking the door, the sorrow hot and fierce inside her. Deanne followed her out, hugged her close.

‘I didn’t want to bloody cry,’ she said when the worst of it was over, when she could no longer breathe through her nose and her lips were all swollen.

‘Course you need to cry,’ Deanne said. ‘You’re not a saint, Louise. You’re flesh and blood. With all this… Jesus.’ She rubbed Louise’s back.

‘I didn’t want Luke to hear me crying. He’s going to wake up, Deanne. He’s going to get better. If he can hear, what’s he going to think? Crying doesn’t help anyone.’

Deanne sighed. One of the nurses came along the corridor, smiled as she passed them by. Once she was out of earshot, Louise said, ‘Declan knows who did it – the main one. You remember Declan?’

‘Dopey Declan?’

‘Yeah. Apparently Luke had a set-to with this lad Gazza. Pulled him up for threatening a girl at a party. Gazza went for him and Luke tripped him up, took a photo and sent it round. Declan’s told the police; needed a kick up the bum from me first.’

‘Oh God,’ Deanne said. ‘I need a smoke.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

Deanne looked, her face fell. ‘You haven’t?’

‘Something’s gotta give.’

It was dark outside, the sky a sickly blend of sulphur yellow from the city lights and leaden grey. The air was cold, still, trapping the smell from a brewery and the high, acrid exhaust fumes.

They smoked, and Deanne talked about Christmas at the in-laws, the tensions, the food, the boredom. Louise caught a shadow in her friend’s gaze, a current of something sour in between the words.

‘Did the kids like it?’

‘Yeah, they were fine, a bit bored but okay.’

‘And?’

Deanne cast her a glance, took a long drag on her cigarette, blew the smoke up into the beam of light from the street lamp.

‘Me and Tony.’ Deanne wrinkled her nose. ‘We’re breaking up.’

‘Oh no.’ After what? Twelve years, thirteen? Three kids.

‘Bastard’s seeing someone else.’

‘And that’s it? There’s no…’

‘Yes. And no. I’ve told him I want him out by the end of the month. You can imagine the atmosphere.’

‘Who is she? Someone you know?’

‘No. Some little tart he met on his travels.’ Tony was a rep selling soft toys to outlets round the north. ‘Lives in Preston.’

‘Oh Dee, I am sorry. Do the kids know?’

‘Not yet.’ Deanne ground her cigarette out. ‘We need a night out.’

Louise felt weary at the prospect. ‘I don’t know…’

‘No arguments. Me and you and Fee. Nothing too demanding. Cocktails.’

‘But Ruby…’

‘She can stay at mine – I’ll pay her to babysit. Or rather Tony will.’ Deanne looked at Louise. ‘It’s not like we’ve got much to celebrate for New Year. You with Luke, me not with Tony. Jesus, Fee better have some good news for us.’

It ended up being just the two of them – New Year’s Day evening, when the rest of the world was too hung-over to get out. Fee had begged off: food poisoning from dodgy prawns.

Louise made the effort. Ruby helped her put her hair up in an elaborate twist, and she dug out a dress and heels and a glittery shawl. It was as much for Deanne as for herself, but also a way of sticking two fingers up at the situation. Life goes on.

Tony wasn’t there when Louise and Ruby got to Deanne’s. Deanne looked formidable in a leopardprint sheath and half a ton of gold jewellery. Ruby had sat before for the boys, and they’d go to bed when she said. It wouldn’t be a late night anyway; both Louise and Deanne had work the next day.

They went to Roxies, a cocktail bar near the canals in town, where Deanne had once been manager. The guy serving remembered her and gave them two-for-one. After her first Margarita, Louise felt like going to sleep; after the next, she got her second wind and started to enjoy herself. Deanne told her all about the finer details of finding out that Tony was a cheating bastard. The discovery of his affair and the ensuing fallout had all taken place at his parents’, leading to ridiculous scenes where they had whispered arguments and tried to hide what was going on from the rest of the family.

‘I ended up bloody texting him,’ said Deanne. ‘Can you imagine, rowing by text! Slagging him off and him sending “sorry, sorry” back. It all blew up big style the day after Boxing Day. I caught him on the phone to her. So much for “sorry, sorry”. I got his phone. Stuck it in the dishwasher.’

‘Deanne!’

‘Prat.’

‘You wouldn’t go see someone?’

‘Counselling? Nah.’ She shifted the umbrella in her drink, took a sip. ‘Maybe if I thought there was any hope of a future in it, but… I don’t think he loves me any more.’

Louise saw the brief twitch as Deanne’s lips tightened, saw the hurt.

‘I’m spitting mad at him, but when I think of the kids, I want to cut his dick off. How can he do it to them? Those boys adore him, Louise. And trying to imagine the place without him.’ She shuddered. ‘Do you still miss Eddie?’

Louise smiled. ‘Yeah, specially at a time like this.’

‘Carl not stepped up?’

‘Oh, he would, given half a chance. Carl’s all right, but he’s not the love of my life, you know?’

‘Fuck buddies,’ Deanne supplied.

‘Oh, charming,’ Louise scolded her. ‘Ey up, incoming at four o’clock. We’re being given the once-over.’ Three men had arrived and were waiting to be served. They looked as if they had come from work: suits and ties. Louise wondered what sort of work they did, given it was a bank holiday. One of the men, looking her way, leaned into his friends and made a comment. Something funny; they all laughed.

Deanne swivelled in her seat. ‘Three into two won’t go.’

‘Are you mad?’ Louise asked her.

‘The one with the striped shirt is mine.’

‘In your dreams.’ Louise took a drink.

‘Is that a dare?’

‘Whoa! No,’ Louise said. ‘You’re not going to blame this on me. You know what you’d be doing?’

‘Rebound sex.’

‘Revenge sex – even worse. I am going home after the next drink. And you are coming with me.’

‘Am I?’

‘You’ll have to. I’m taking your babysitter home with me.’

‘Bugger,’ Deanne said. ‘Smoke?’

They took their drinks out on to the roof terrace, where patio heaters belted out warmth on to the tables and benches. Fog hung over the city, diffusing the lights.

‘I can’t imagine going with someone else,’ Deanne said. ‘There’s only been Tony for so long.’

‘No rush, is there,’ Louise said. ‘Not like you’ll forget how to do it.’

‘Like riding a bike,’ Deanne shot back. Cracked them up.

‘It’s a bit weird at first,’ Louise said once she’d stopped cackling. ‘The dates. Someone unfamiliar. You get the jitters and that, like when we were kids.’

‘Where did it go, Lou?’ Deanne was suddenly sombre. ‘All those years.’

‘Hey, we grew up. You’ve got three lovely boys.’

‘I know.’ She flicked repeatedly at the end of her cigarette with her thumbnail. ‘I never saw it coming. Thought we were in it for life. Saw other people’s marriages fold, affairs, divorces, never thought it’d be me.’