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‘You can tell me, Anna.’
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for admitting something I’ve never told anyone. Ever. ‘The man I was in a relationship with… not that I should even call it that… he was my teacher. He taught history.’ As if that mattered. The strange thing, or at least one of them, was that Mr Rees wasn’t young or fun or particularly good-looking, all the usual suspects when it comes to student-teacher affairs. He was forty-five, balding, okay-looking for his age, but certainly nothing special. Looking back, I can’t explain it even to myself, except perhaps that after my parents’ divorce I was lonely, and having someone pay attention to me – a man like my father, even – felt good, sick and sad as it was, as horrible as it felt.
‘What happened?’ Jack finally asked.
‘What you’d expect. I stayed after one day for help on an essay…’ And just like Mike Jacobs, he came up behind me so I could feel his breath on my ear, his body so close to mine. I remembered feeling frozen, and then foolishly, pathetically flattered.
‘Did you report him?’ Jack asked with a note of vehemence. ‘You should have reported him.’
I shook my head. ‘No, I never did.’ It all ended predictably; a few sordid trysts at school, one late-night meeting behind a pub that left me feeling dirtier than ever. And then I fell pregnant, and Mr Rees gave me three hundred pounds to take care of it, and we never spoke again. He was probably terrified I was going to point the finger at him, but it never even crossed my mind, whether out of shame or disgust or just relief that it was over. I didn’t think of it once.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a pause. ‘I can’t even imagine…’
‘It’s okay.’ I sniffed, trying to regroup. ‘I’ve never told anyone before. And today… after everything… I needed to tell someone.’
‘I’m glad it was me.’ He kissed me gently, and something in me loosened and let go. He wasn’t repulsed; he wasn’t backing off as I’d feared. ‘What happened to you, Anna, it was wrong. I hope you know that.’
‘I think I’m starting to. Hearing Sasha tell her story… it made me realise how much I’ve doubted myself. How I’ve felt it was my fault…’
‘It wasn’t.’
‘Thank you.’ I tried to smile. ‘That means a lot.’
Telling Jack freed me, but not enough to tell Milly any of it. I thought about it sometimes, when we were out together, although that was happening less frequently. I thought about sitting her down, letting it all spill out. But it felt like such a big thing, the biggest thing in my life, that I didn’t know how to begin, and I was afraid to navigate the why-didn’t-you-tell-me conversations, opening up a whole new arena of hurt.
Part of me wondered if Milly even wanted to know. Was that why she’d never asked, ba
ck then or now? Why she’s never said a word?
And in my meaner moments, I wonder if that has always been the nature of our friendship. From the beginning, I have been relegated to the supporting role, the sidekick, and I’ve never minded. I’ve been so grateful to have Milly at all, to have her fierce and unwavering loyalty – and yet I am now realising it has come at a price, albeit one I’ve always been willing to pay.
I am willing to pay it now, not least because Milly is an important part of my life, she is pregnant, she needs me, and most of all, because of Alice. I want to be in Alice’s life. I want at least a little bit of that vision Milly painted for me, way back when.
And so I keep texting and meeting for coffee every so often, listen to her moan about swollen ankles and stretchmarks, enthuse about the lavender-themed nursery, with its walls of pale violet, the framed botany prints, the glider with its cushion of cream velveteen. But there is a growing part of me that is starting, with a quiet ferocity, to resent it all, resent her, and I feel both vindicated and horrified by that. How can I be this way? How can I not?
Then I find out I’ve been fired.
First Lara met with Mike Jacobs on her own, and managed to get Sasha’s case dropped, most likely through intimidation. I wasn’t even surprised, but for the first time I didn’t feel like rolling over.
‘I should have been at that meeting,’ I told her, trying not to let my voice tremble. ‘I was in charge of this case…’
‘Honestly, Anna, you seemed a bit too personally involved.’ Lara eyed me coolly from behind her desk. ‘So I decided it was better if I handled it myself.’
My nails dug into my palms. ‘And now it’s been dropped?’
‘Better for everyone, and certainly better for Qi Tech. Sasha sees that. She was a bit of a silly girl.’ Lara smiled at me almost pityingly, as if she suspected that once upon a time I had been a silly girl, as well.
For a second, I just stared at her and then I heard myself saying, ‘She was not a silly girl, Lara. And it was wrong of you to strong-arm her into dropping her complaint.’
Lara’s eyes narrowed. ‘Then it’s a good thing I’m in charge and you’re not.’
It felt as if the very air between us was shimmering with tension. I’d put up with Lara’s crap for nearly fifteen years. I’d turned a blind eye, shut up when I’d needed to, ignored all the rude, racist and derogatory remarks she’d made, because she was my boss and, despite everything, despite her, I still loved my job.
But now a line had been crossed. Because Sasha was just like me, and I couldn’t let her feel the way I had for so long. I couldn’t live with myself if I did, not when I knew how the pain and shame felt. How they corroded you from the inside out, even a decade and a half later, until you felt like nothing but rust.
‘Do you know how much I know about you?’ I said, and Lara looked startled. My voice was quiet and steady, surprising me because I was terrified. ‘How many things you’ve said to me that could get you fired?’
She let out a huff of scornful laughter. ‘Seriously, Anna?’
