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‘Samantha! Emily? Emily’s at the flat.’
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She pivots on her heel, slaps her forehead comically. But this is one act she cannot keep up.
‘Sorry,’ Aisha says, spreading her hands.
Samantha wonders what she’s sorry for: that she ever told her about Peter, that Peter is a bastard, that he has turned them all into these strained, shadowy creatures, afraid of talking to one another?
‘What did Jenny say?’ she says, tipping up her chin. ‘We have to stop apologising.’
Has Peter ever apologised, she wonders then, for anything? In all their time together, she can’t remember him ever saying sorry, whereas she has said that particular word over and over and over again. But no more.
Together they walk towards the station, in silence. Four, five, six paces and already the tension grips at Samantha’s shoulders. Another ten and she stops dead on the pavement.
‘Look,’ she says. ‘I saw him. I saw Peter with the girl. But I don’t want to talk about it. I just can’t deal with the judgement right now, all right?’
‘I’m not judging you.’ Aisha’s brow creases with hurt. ‘I would never do that.’
Samantha closes her eyes, opens them again. ‘I know. I didn’t mean … I just …’
‘But I do need to tell you something.’ Aisha falters, glances up but almost immediately looks back down to her trainers. ‘It’s just that I was talking to Sally and I … I don’t know how you came up in the conversation. I might have mentioned that you were teaching me or something, but anyway she said you’d been in touch about her scarf and asked me if I thought Peter was up to his old tricks. I said I had no idea – honestly I did – but she said she thought he might be because he had told her he was going to seeKing Learand when she asked him who with, he was cagey. I guess she put two and two together. She’s known him a long time. I think she only puts up with him because she’s not into men, but I got the impression that this time she was appalled, with him having a baby now. Anyway, it was her suggestion that I take you to see the live feed, said we probably wouldn’t see him, but if we did it might be easier to have the evidence presented in a neutral way rather than having to hear it second-hand.’
‘Might be easier to … Hang on, why would she say that? What did you say to make her say that, Aisha?’
Aisha bites her lip. ‘I might have said you … you were convinced he’d changed. I might have said something like that.’
‘Christ, Aisha.’
‘Look, there was no guarantee we’d see anything. It was a bit of a long shot, frankly, and I thought if we did see him, at least you’d have a friend with you for support.’
Samantha is reeling. ‘What …’ she begins but gets no further.
‘I’m sorry,’ Aisha says.
‘You set this up? You andProfessor Bailey?’
Aisha looks wretched. ‘It was with the best of … Oh God, I’m so, so sorry.’
‘What I don’t understand,’ Samantha says, ‘is why anyone cares quite so much about my private arrangements.’ There. She has managed to vocalise it. ‘I mean, what the hell has it got to do with anyone?’
Aisha’s face has fallen.
Samantha hesitates. But the conversation is not over.
‘I just keep coming back to the fact that you and Jenny and Lottie all ended up in my class,’ she says. ‘And now I find out that fucking Sally Bailey knows my private business too, that she’s sticking her oar in, giving me a ticket so I’ll catch my partner in the act. I mean, I know you’ve explained why you and Jenny came to the class, but don’t you think it’s weird that Lottie was there too? It’s like some horrible hall of mirrors. I feel like I’m living on CCTV, everyone watching, knowing stuff about me. You’d tell me if you knew Lottie from before, wouldn’t you? I’m asking you, Aisha. I’m only going to ask you once, and if I find out you lied, we’re done – do you get that?’
‘Sam,’ Aisha says. ‘I’m so sorry. Our intentions were good, I promise. Jenny and I only approached you after we found out you were with Peter. We genuinely didn’t want to see another woman’s life ruined by that b— that excuse for a man. You can check it with the college. If you look at the records, you’ll see that we enrolled for the previous term but the class got cancelled. And I guarantee that Lottie will have enrolled after you put up the link on your Facebook. That’s how she knew you’d be the tutor. The college don’t give out that information. You know that, Sam. Come on! This is how abusers get us. They turn us into these secretive little animals, and when we try and come out, we don’t believe each other because believing is just too terrible. Peter is an abuser, Sam. He is a serial abuser of women.’
‘Don’t say that! You don’t get to call him that to me! He’s my partner and the father of my child. It’s me who decides what he is, me that gets to call him an abuser, all right?’
Aisha throws up her hands. She is crying now, quite openly.
‘Look,’ Samantha says after a minute. ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry. I know you’re trying to help. But I don’t need some first wives’ club wading into my life, OK? I don’t need an action squad, no matter how well intentioned. Just let me handle this. If you genuinely want us to be friends then you’ll have to try not to interfere or pass comment or – or judge, OK? Because you won’t understand – I don’t think you’ll understand what happens going forward. And that’s fine. I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to be here on the other side, OK? I know it doesn’t make sense now, but it will. One day. All right?’
Aisha looks confused, as well she might. And looking at her crushed expression, her eyes so wet and solemn, Samantha wants to kiss her on the forehead and say,It’s OK, I don’t quite know what I mean either, not yet.
‘But I do want us to be friends,’ is what she does say. ‘OK?’
