change the subject. ‘We’re out,’ she announced, then said decisively, ‘Screw the girls’ night in. Let’s go out to a pub.’
‘Why, Hannah, I do believe you’re becoming a bad influence on me.’ India looked pleased though as she leapt to her feet and Hannah wondered how long she would be able to keep up this confident façade. More importantly, she wondered how much of it actually was the real her and not just the part of her that was so desperate to impress India.
As they wandered down the road towards the closest pub, Hannah glanced sideways at India. ‘You know what we never do?’ she asked.
‘What’s that?’
‘Talk about you.’
‘Ahh.’ India paused. ‘Well that’s not what we’re here for though, is it?’
‘Says who?’ Hannah smiled nervously and looked down at the ground, her hands tucked tightly into her jacket pockets. ‘Tell me more about Simon,’ she suggested hopefully.
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Are you still writing to him?’
‘Yes. It’s stupid though, hey? None of my letters are ever going to get to him.’
‘So why don’t you actually start posting them? You know, like a normal person.’
India jabbed her in the ribs as they turned right to step off the footpath and head in through a vine-covered archway at the entrance to the Elephant Whistle pub’s front beer garden. ‘Hannah! Are you mocking me?’
‘Looks that way, doesn’t it?’ Hannah tried to suppress the flutter of nerves in her stomach. Was she being too confident now?
‘I’m liking the new Hannah,’ India announced as they made their way through the tables and then inside to the bar. ‘It’s nice to see you’ve got a bit of spark to you, girl.’
‘Half a bottle of red wine helped,’ Hannah admitted.
‘Agh, don’t tell me you’re the kind of girl who can only loosen up when she has a few drinks,’ said India crossly.
‘Oh shut up. You drank the other half,’ Hannah replied, getting into the swing of it now. ‘What do you want by the way?’ she added as the bartender approached them.
‘Lemonade. I , unlike some people, don’t need alcohol to socialise,’ said India haughtily.
Hannah ordered their drinks – a Bacardi for herself – and then they made their way to a couple of bar stools set up along a bench that skirted the wall nearby a pool table.
‘So you don’t normally drink much?’ Hannah asked as they sat down and India picked up a cardboard coaster and began to twirl it between her fingers.
‘I try not to. I prefer to always stay in control. Although . . .’ she hesitated and Hannah raised her eyebrows as she waited. It wasn’t like India to be stuck for words.
‘What?’ she prompted.
‘The other night, when you left the Old Ship, I sort of got trashed. Like, really drunk. I ended up phoning Simon in the middle of the night.’
‘Yeah?’ Hannah asked, smiling. ‘How did it go?’
‘Bad,’ said India firmly, and Hannah’s smile vanished.
‘Oh no, I’m sorry. What happened?’
‘So it went like this. I was kissing this guy – some random in the back of a nightclub. It was nice and I was definitely thinking about fucking him. And I found myself thinking about Simon, and realising that . . . well, I was sort of missing him. For some reason I thought if I called him and told him what had happened then it would help me to sort things out in my head. But I don’t know what I was expecting him to say really.’
Hannah frowned. ‘Explain it to me again,’ she said firmly. ‘Why is it that you can’t just be with Simon?’
‘It’s simple, I like to keep moving.’
‘Does that mean you’ll be leaving London soon?’
‘Eventually, yes. But not until I sort you out.’
‘And what if I can’t be sorted out?’
‘Everything is fixable, Hannah.’
‘By that logic you should be able to make things right with Simon.’
‘Touché.’
‘Right. Let’s start with why you have this need to keep moving. What’s that all
‘Why, Hannah, I do believe you’re becoming a bad influence on me.’ India looked pleased though as she leapt to her feet and Hannah wondered how long she would be able to keep up this confident façade. More importantly, she wondered how much of it actually was the real her and not just the part of her that was so desperate to impress India.
As they wandered down the road towards the closest pub, Hannah glanced sideways at India. ‘You know what we never do?’ she asked.
‘What’s that?’
‘Talk about you.’
‘Ahh.’ India paused. ‘Well that’s not what we’re here for though, is it?’
‘Says who?’ Hannah smiled nervously and looked down at the ground, her hands tucked tightly into her jacket pockets. ‘Tell me more about Simon,’ she suggested hopefully.
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Are you still writing to him?’
‘Yes. It’s stupid though, hey? None of my letters are ever going to get to him.’
‘So why don’t you actually start posting them? You know, like a normal person.’
India jabbed her in the ribs as they turned right to step off the footpath and head in through a vine-covered archway at the entrance to the Elephant Whistle pub’s front beer garden. ‘Hannah! Are you mocking me?’
‘Looks that way, doesn’t it?’ Hannah tried to suppress the flutter of nerves in her stomach. Was she being too confident now?
‘I’m liking the new Hannah,’ India announced as they made their way through the tables and then inside to the bar. ‘It’s nice to see you’ve got a bit of spark to you, girl.’
‘Half a bottle of red wine helped,’ Hannah admitted.
‘Agh, don’t tell me you’re the kind of girl who can only loosen up when she has a few drinks,’ said India crossly.
‘Oh shut up. You drank the other half,’ Hannah replied, getting into the swing of it now. ‘What do you want by the way?’ she added as the bartender approached them.
‘Lemonade. I , unlike some people, don’t need alcohol to socialise,’ said India haughtily.
Hannah ordered their drinks – a Bacardi for herself – and then they made their way to a couple of bar stools set up along a bench that skirted the wall nearby a pool table.
‘So you don’t normally drink much?’ Hannah asked as they sat down and India picked up a cardboard coaster and began to twirl it between her fingers.
‘I try not to. I prefer to always stay in control. Although . . .’ she hesitated and Hannah raised her eyebrows as she waited. It wasn’t like India to be stuck for words.
‘What?’ she prompted.
‘The other night, when you left the Old Ship, I sort of got trashed. Like, really drunk. I ended up phoning Simon in the middle of the night.’
‘Yeah?’ Hannah asked, smiling. ‘How did it go?’
‘Bad,’ said India firmly, and Hannah’s smile vanished.
‘Oh no, I’m sorry. What happened?’
‘So it went like this. I was kissing this guy – some random in the back of a nightclub. It was nice and I was definitely thinking about fucking him. And I found myself thinking about Simon, and realising that . . . well, I was sort of missing him. For some reason I thought if I called him and told him what had happened then it would help me to sort things out in my head. But I don’t know what I was expecting him to say really.’
Hannah frowned. ‘Explain it to me again,’ she said firmly. ‘Why is it that you can’t just be with Simon?’
‘It’s simple, I like to keep moving.’
‘Does that mean you’ll be leaving London soon?’
‘Eventually, yes. But not until I sort you out.’
‘And what if I can’t be sorted out?’
‘Everything is fixable, Hannah.’
‘By that logic you should be able to make things right with Simon.’
‘Touché.’
‘Right. Let’s start with why you have this need to keep moving. What’s that all
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