Paper Chains (2 page)

Oh, stop being so mean.

She dried herself off and wondered what she would do today. But there was no point asking herself that question, because inevitably she would do what she always did on her one day off a week. She would run. She would punish her body with a gruelling jog through the park. And she wouldn’t stop for lunch.

She was on her third trip through the centre of Hyde Park when she saw her. The girl from yesterday – her hair was different today, but it was her. She was sitting on a picnic rug, eating a giant piece of watermelon. And was she . . .
waving
at Hannah?

This is fate, isn’t it? Maybe she’s supposed to become my friend.

You don’t deserve to have friends.

CHAPTER TWO

India could be extremely persuasive when she wanted to be. Generally, her charms worked on anyone and everyone, but in particular she was quite good at manipulating the opposite sex to get what she needed. Today she had a mission. It was all because of that obnoxious little boy that she had seen throwing a tantrum in the museum gift shop yesterday. It took seconds to look around and see that all the tourists in the store were gearing up to watch a great show, oblivious to the poor mother’s panic and embarrassment.

Helping the mum out had been easy. India was good with people, and that extended to kids as well. And besides, it was what she liked to do – help people – even before everything had been changed for her. Her grandmother had always said she would have made a perfect counsellor. But what had surprised India was the girl she happened to make eye contact with on the way out of the store. Man, the look on that chick’s face – she was seriously freaking out. Her face was as white as a scoop of vanilla ice cream. This piqued India’s curiosity. Kid throws massive tantrum, mother freaks out – that’s normal. But kid throws massive tantrum and girl-behind-counter has a meltdown? Now that was odd. India’s first thought was that this girl was an opportunity, a new project – someone to fix, someone to save.

Tracking down ‘girl-behind-counter’ was easy. India visited the museum again, scoped out the jewellery counter, picked out a guy that she knew would have no problems telling India anything she needed to know and . . . voila. Here she was in Hyde Park, sitting on a picnic rug, waiting for girl-behind-counter (now known as Hannah thanks to guy-behind-counter) to go running past. The boy’s name was Joe, and at first it looked like the only useful info he could give her was Hannah’s shift schedule. But eager to please he had suddenly exclaimed, ‘Oh wait, Hannah usually goes running on her day off. Takes one of the tracks through Hyde Park – the one that goes right the way around The Serpentine. Only know because she mentioned it the other day in the staff room.’

Now her information gathering had paid off. She had spotted Hannah. She was easy to spot, in a mousey brown hair, innocent pretty face, would usually blend into the crowd if it weren’t for the sign on her forehead that said ‘HELP ME’ kind of way. India subtly caught her attention – by madly waving her arms above her head until Hannah looked her way – and Hannah hesitantly started heading over to her. When she reached India, she stood there, blocking the sun and throwing a shadow over the rug. India squinted up at her, shading her eyes. She then extended a sticky, watermelon juice covered hand; Hannah took it and shook.

‘I’m India. You work at the museum, right? Sit.’

She watched as Hannah hesitated briefly and then obediently followed her instructions. ‘I’m Hannah,’ she mumbled.

‘Well, Hannah, have some watermelon. I’ve got too much. I’ll make myself sick if I eat all of this on my own.’

When Hannah didn’t move to pick up a piece of watermelon, India sighed at her in an exasperated sort of way and prodded her in the side. ‘
Eat
, please. I can tell you’re hungry. How long have you been jogging for anyway?’

Hannah shrugged. ‘Since I got up I guess. About seven I suppose.’

India gasped. ‘Hannah!’ she exclaimed, using her name naturally, as though they were old friends. ‘It’s three o’clock! Did you even realise that? You haven’t stopped all this time?’

‘Well, I slow down sometimes. Just before you saw me I’d been walking for about half an hour. I mean, I haven’t been running flat out the entire time; I think that would be impossible anyway.’

Hannah took a bite of watermelon and wiped her chin self-consciously. India laughed at her and then asked, ‘Why?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Why do you do it? Why are you running like a maniac all day? Training for a marathon or something?’

Hannah took another bite of watermelon and India sensed that she had done so in order to avoid answering the question for a few more seconds. Eventually she swallowed the lump of fruit and nodded, keeping her eyes low.

India smiled as she asked casually, ‘Which one?’

‘The New York marathon.’ Then she choked on a seed and India, a bemused expression on her face, had to thump her on the back.

‘You’re Aussie, right?’

‘Mmmm.’

‘And you’re training for the New York marathon here in London?’

‘Mmm.’

Liar.

‘How far is that anyway?’ India was thoroughly enjoying watching Hannah squirm.

‘Umm, I’m pretty sure it’s something like forty-two kilometres,’ Hannah responded, her voice rising slightly as though she was nervous.

‘And when is it on?’

‘Oh, a few months,’ Hannah replied in a vague sort of way.

‘Fair enough.’ India leaned back on her elbows and sighed blissfully. ‘How gorgeous is this weather, Hannah? The sky is all, like, “Enid Blyton cornflower blue”, am I right? I’ve literally been soaking up this English sunshine for half the day. It’s a myth that England is always dreary, by the way; it’s not, it’s freaking beautiful.’

Hannah nodded without responding. They sat in silence for a little while, watching people walking or jogging past until Hannah blurted out, ‘Why did you invite me to join you?’ And then she drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her as though she had frightened herself by asking the question.

‘Why not?’ India shot back.

‘But you don’t even know me. How are you this outgoing? I saw you help that woman in the gift shop yesterday and you didn’t even care what people thought of you when you joined in on the tantrum with that kid. And didn’t you have blonde hair yesterday?’

India grinned at her. ‘I change the colour of my hair every couple of weeks or so. Today I felt like being a redhead. Next time . . . maybe blue. And I like meeting people. It’s why I decided to travel. As for not caring what those people thought of me – I just don’t. In fact, every morning, without fail, I wake up, look in the mirror and say this: “You are beautiful. You are strong. You deserve to live. You deserve life. You can do whatever you want and fuck what everyone else thinks.” It’s like my mantra. You should try it some time.’

‘But how can you be so confident?!’ Hannah was gazing at India with astonished admiration in her eyes and India almost flushed with uncharacteristic embarrassment.
Jeez, it’s not that amazing
.
For goodness sake, girl, you’re looking at me like an adoring puppy.

She paused before responding evenly, ‘Well, a little while back, I found out I had cancer. I fought it and I won. The confidence is kind of a side effect I guess. If you’d kicked-arse against a terminal illness, you’d feel pretty damn good about yourself too.’

‘Wow, I’m so sorry,’ Hannah said quickly.

‘Don’t be – I told you, I beat it and I’ve never felt better. For a while there, I thought I was helpless, you know? At the beginning, before I took control. But now – bam, this is me, baby – take me or leave me.’

Hannah nodded. ‘Oh, I see,’ she said, looking for all the world as if she didn’t see at all. India opened her mouth to speak, about to ask Hannah some more questions about herself, when Hannah stood up so abruptly that she almost tripped over her feet. ‘Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for the watermelon,’ she said in a rush. She turned to leave, but thinking quickly, India called out to her, ‘So dinner tonight then? What time suits you? I know this great little restaurant in Piccadilly Circus; food’s yum and it’s cheap. You’re free, right?’

Hannah swung back around. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ she asked, her voice rising a little hysterically.

India laughed. ‘God, I don’t know, Hannah.’ She shrugged as she searched for a reason. ‘Call me a lost-soul collector, honey; it’s what I do.’
And really, what else do I have to do with my time?
Then she added, ‘No scrap that; it makes me sound too spiritual and gooey. Look, how about this – shouldn’t us Aussies stick together?’

‘You’re from Australia too?’ Hannah asked in surprise.

‘You didn’t pick the accent already?’

‘I guess not,’ Hannah said, sounding embarrassed.

‘I’m from WA. I’m guessing you’re East coast?’

‘New South Wales.’

‘Ah, a Sydney girl?’

Hannah nodded.

‘So, is that enough of a reason for you? I’ll meet you on the steps by the fountain, the one with the little cupid statue on the top. Eight o’clock, okay?’

Not a cupid, an archer
, thought Hannah,
an angel archer
. But she didn’t bother to correct India before walking away from the rug in a slight daze. As she headed back through the park she chanced a glance behind her in India’s direction. She was still sitting on the rug, her face tipped back, enjoying the sun.
Look at that girl
, she thought to herself.
Look at what she’s been through. She’s incredible. You are nothing by comparison to her.
Partial lyrics to an old playground song suddenly jumped into her head: ‘
Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, think I’ll go eat worms, big, fat, slimy ones . . .’
She shook her head as she attempted to dislodge the inane tune from her mind.

Was she really going to go and meet India again tonight? she wondered as she headed towards the road, turned right and started jogging again. What would they talk about? What if she asked her more questions about the marathon that she was supposedly training for? She didn’t even know why she had blurted out that strange lie. But then again, a marathon seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation – what other reason was there for spending an entire day running? She hadn’t even realised she’d been out so long. And a marathon sounded much more normal than saying, ‘I’m running all day to punish myself for this awful thing that I’ve done. I deserve nothing less than constant physical pain, but as hacking away at my skin with razor blades seems a little excessive, a gruelling run looks to be the best option.’

It seemed, though, that lies or no lies, she was probably going to accept India’s invitation. The girl was too intoxicating; she wanted to spend more time with her. Wanted to see if maybe they could become friends.

Later that night, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, combing her hair after a hot shower, Hannah couldn’t believe how her day had changed. Yesterday, she had witnessed this amazing, confident woman rescuing a mother from public embarrassment and been slightly in awe of her. Today she had spent an afternoon sharing watermelon with her and had just now had dinner with her and a few of her friends. Of course, could you consider it to be a true friendship if you spent the entire evening lying about every part of your life?

She thought back over the questions India had asked her that evening that she had responded to with lies. When they had walked into the restaurant, India had leaned over to whisper to her, ‘The Brazilian guy is single by the way, and he’s been checking you out since we met up with you at the fountain.’

‘Oh really?’ Hannah had asked, but on the last syllable her voice rose to an odd pitch and then she had to cough to clear her throat. The thought of flirting with another man seemed sort of horrific to her – she wasn’t a cheater. But then was it really cheating considering the circumstances?

India had scrutinised her face. ‘You are single, aren’t you?’ she’d asked.

Hannah had paused; she honestly didn’t know the answer to that question. But she could hardly explain it all to India. ‘Uh, yes . . . I am,’ she had responded quickly.

The confusion and lies had continued from there. She soon realised that she really ought to have prepared a better cover story before coming out tonight. Several times she caught India staring at her, seeming to be searching her face, eyebrows raised, as Hannah stumbled over a response to a question that most people would find perfectly easy to answer. She was certain at times that she had managed to contradict herself and India wanted to know more details about the New York marathon – details that Hannah didn’t have a clue about.

Worse still was avoiding the advances of Carlos the Brazilian. He was amazingly good-looking, charming, tall, tanned, like an oversized Ken-doll on steroids – but these facts were irrelevant. Even if Hannah was for all intents and purposes single, what would be the point? It was not as though it could lead anywhere. What would happen if they ended up in a relationship? Would they eventually get engaged? Get married? And then what? Kids? That was out of the question. So why even start anything at all? Unless of course it was just all about sex – but then, could she really do that? Have sex with another man? And wouldn’t she just be thinking of
him
the whole time? It would feel wrong and she didn’t deserve to have sex anyway. Sex was too much fun and she wasn’t here to have fun.

But still, despite all of this – and despite the fact that she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying herself (that was against the rules) – she had still managed to have a good time. She’d had a few glasses of wine and the food was fantastic. She had forgotten what it was like to socialise. Even though she couldn’t quite be herself, obviously there were still moments when she had started to relax. Like when Alex (backpacker from New Zealand) had announced that he could read palms and had gone around the table predicting their futures. Or when Liv (student from Scotland) had challenged a waiter to a drinking competition and he had sat down at the table with them and downed five shots in a row before returning to his job clearing the tables looking perfectly sober while Liv looked ready to pass out.