Beyond Fear by Jaye Ford Read Free Book Online Page A

satchel and as she passed it to Corrine looked at Jodie as though she was seeing her for the first time. ‘I think Jodie could do with something a little stronger. Lou, you want to get those drinks now?’
    ‘Excellent idea.’ Lou took her handbag and headed into the crowd.
    Jodie saw the intent as Hannah moved towards her – she was the next patient in line. But she wasn’t looking for TLC, she just needed some time and space. And a stiff drink. She made herself smile, tried to look what she didn’t feel – calm, relaxed, up for a good ole time. It mustn’t have worked because Hannah stepped around the low table, put the back of her hand against Jodie’s cheek.
    ‘You’re freezing.’ Hannah dropped the hand to Jodie’s shoulder, gave it a brisk rub. ‘You’re shaking, you’re so cold. Sit down.’
    ‘No, I’m okay.’ Jodie was still standing behind her seat, not ready yet to sink into a comfy chair. The darts competition was winding up for another round and the crowd and its sudden, rowdy cheers made her feel the need to be ready to move.
    ‘Come on, you should try and warm up.’ Hannah took her by the arm and pulled.
    The unexpected force made Jodie resist. She snatched her arm away then felt petty for it, moved around the chair, did what she was told anyway and sat.
    With the same efficiency she’d used on Corrine, Hannah began a vigorous massage of Jodie’s upper arms. The closeness was claustrophobic, the pressure like bindings. She pushed Hannah’s hands away. ‘No, I’m okay.’
    Hannah moved to the low table and sat knee-to-knee with her, took both her hands and rubbed them between her own.
    ‘No, Hannah. I’m okay .’ Jodie tried to pull away. Hannah held on with her nurse’s grip.
    ‘Hannah!’ Christ, if Hannah had any idea what had turned her blood to ice, she wouldn’t be confining her hands like that. But she didn’t know any of it, Jodie reminded herself. Give her a break. Take a breath. ‘Hannah,’ she managed more evenly. ‘It’s okay. I’m fine.’
    Hannah let go with a pointed sigh, used both hands to tuck her hair behind her ears before taking the woollen scarf from around her own neck. ‘Put this on then. You might not feel cold but believe me, you are.’ She held it out, insistence on her pursed lips.
    Stubbornness burned in the back of Jodie’s throat. Hannah was a force of nature, the kind of friend every working mother needed as proof a woman could divide herself a hundred ways and survive. She had an unflagging conviction in whatever she did, totally there for family and friends and patients. But the conviction made Jodie want to beat her about the head sometimes. Hannah never backed down easily and Jodie hated to be pushed.
    Two ways to go, Jodie. Tell the truth or take the scarf. Did she want to sit here in the pub and say, ‘Actually, Hannah, it’s not the cold, it’s something else entirely’? Because once she explained the flashback, she’d have to explain the rest and . . . She closed her eyes, felt that cold, ugly memory snake up her spine. Christ, Jodie, it was just a damn scarf and Hannah was only trying to help. She opened her eyes, took the scarf, smiled. ‘Thanks, I’m sure it’s just what I need.’
    ‘So, guys,’ Lou raised her voice. She was back with the drinks, looking between Hannah and Jodie. ‘Now that’s all sorted, what the hell happened out there?’
    Jodie shrugged, glanced over at Corrine.
    ‘We-ell,’ she groaned theatrically. ‘We were in pitch darkness and Jodie decided to pack-march me down the road with all the luggage. Then I fell over, as you do when you’re made to stumble around in the dark in four-inch heels. God, I was in agony . . .’
    Jodie took a large mouthful of the bourbon and Coke Lou had bought her and tuned out as Corrine told her version of the story. The pub was all but full now, mostly men, mostly turned towards the back of the room where the darts were being played. She looked at faces, avoided