The Carrier by Sophie Hannah Read Free Book Online Page B

know which of the words I use are real words and which I’m making up. I bet you’ve got the memory of a bottom-set-for-remembering-how-to-swim goldfish. Soon you’ll be telling me I’m looking after you again, having forgotten everything I’ve just said.’ I smile at her, feeling quite forgiving now that I’ve unburdened myself.
    ‘You’re a fucking cheeky cow, that’s what you are,’ Lauren announces after a short silence.
    ‘That’s what I am,’ I agree. ‘Well done. See, you have no trouble defining me without reference to Jason. Perhaps you could try doing the same with yourself.’
    She stares down at her phone, holding it with both hands. ‘Don’t speak to me, all right?’
    Jason.
Now there’s a strange thing. ‘I don’t get it,’ I say. ‘You’ve never been abroad on your own before, you’re talking about panic attacks, you’ve lied to your husband, taking a significant risk that he’ll find out, since planes are delayed all the time . . . Why? What did you have to do in Germany that took less than a day and justified the risk?’
    ‘Why don’t you mind your own business? How do you know it took less than a day?’
    I close my eyes.
You mentioned seeing me this morning. But you might not remember having said it, so let’s not over-complicate things.
‘No suitcase,’ I say.
    ‘So? You’ve not got one either!’
    I open my eyes, and the nightmare is still real. My whole world is still a coach. The moronic Lauren Cookson is still my significant other. ‘That’s because I, too, have been in Germany just for the day,’ I say patiently. ‘And I’ll happily tell you why.’
    ‘Don’t bother,’ Lauren snaps.
    ‘All right. I won’t.’
    Behind me, a young girl’s voice pipes up. ‘Daddy? Are you awake now?’ One of the choirgirls, probably; I didn’t see any other children waiting to board apart from a tiny baby.
    Her father clears his throat. ‘Yes, darling. What is it?’
    I steel myself, expecting her to say, ‘The two women in front of us are being hateful to each other and it’s scaring me.’
    ‘You know how Silas wants to be a famous footballer when he grows up?’
    I relax. Lauren is jabbing at her phone with her thumbnail. A few seconds later she says, ‘Mum? It’s me, Lauren.’
    ‘He wants to play for Manchester United,’ says the choirgirl.
    ‘Well, I’m sure whatever team he plays for will be lucky to have him.’ The father sounds worried. I imagine he has woken up, looked out of the coach window and seen the same blank blackness and absence of informative landmarks that we’re all seeing.
    Or perhaps he’s wondering how significant a hindrance the name Silas might be for a boy whose ambition is to be a sports legend. Parents are such arrogant idiots. I’m delighted I’m not about to become one.
    ‘Mum, I’ve got myself in a right mess here. I’m in Germany.’ Lauren is crying again. ‘Yeah, Germany. No, I’m not in England.’
    This is likely to be frustrating. She’s going to take half an hour to tell her mother what I could summarise in twenty seconds, but, as a self-confessed hostile stranger, I can hardly hold out my hand for her phone and say, ‘Here, let me.’
    Should I ring Sean? Other women in my situation would want to phone their partners – for company, for comfort. Those would be the ones with partners who wouldn’t immediately launch into yet another accuse-athon.
    ‘I can’t tell you now. I haven’t told Jason. No. Jason doesn’t know I’m in Germany, I’ve not told him. What? I can’t say. No. Not till I see you. I’m on a coach with loads of people earwigging everything I say. Our plane’s delayed, and now they’re taking us to a hotel. It’s horrible, Mum. I’ve been having a right panic attack. I’ve got a friend, though, that’s one good thing – an older lady. What? She’s called Gaby. Yeah. She’s looking after me. She’s being brilliant. You’d get on with her. She’s saying everything you’d