A Dark Matter Episode 50

She went through and Indy was standing at the sink with the kettle in her hand and the tap running, her shoulders shaking. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her other hand and breathed deeply.

“Indy.”

She turned.

Hannah was in such a mess about this, she hadn’t stopped to think about Indy. Her parents already dead, now another death up close. Maybe it was because Indy now worked at Skelf’s, Hannah always subconsciously assumed she could handle anything.

But the death and grief of strangers is so different to your own, that’s what Dorothy always told her.

Hannah remembered the first time she laid eyes on Indy, a month after her parents’ funeral. She’d been answering the phones at Skelf ’s when Hannah popped by to see Gran and Grandpa.

Attraction

It wasn’t exactly a thunderbolt of attraction, but she was so easy to talk to, God, that big smile, those dark eyes.

She radiated something, a kind of selfrespect and self-worth, which was easy to fall in love with. Which is precisely what Hannah did.

That smile and confidence made it all the harder to see her like this.

Hannah went over and took the kettle from Indy’s hand, placed it on the draining board and switched the tap off. She wrapped her arms around her and held on tight.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

She felt Indy swallow. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“Yes, I do,” Hannah said. “I take you for granted all the time.”

Indy pulled back and nodded.

“You do,” she laughed. “But it’s nice having someone who relies on you.” “Christ, do I rely on you.”

Indy sniffed and wiped her eyes, caught sight of the time. “Oh no, I’d better get to work.”

“Dorothy won’t mind,” Hannah said. “No,” Indy said with a smile. “She needs me.”

“I need you.”

“It’s nice to be needed, eh?”

Indy kissed her and pushed away. She gathered her stuff together as Hannah watched, then left the flat.

Hannah looked out of the window for a time then went along the hall to Mel’s room. She stood there for a long time.

When she finally stepped over the threshold it felt disrespectful. Why should it feel different now that Mel was dead?

The same room, the same view out of the window, the same pictures pinned to the noticeboard, the same neat bed with the plain bedspread, the same teddy bear Mel insisted on having in bed with her.

Hannah had never seen Mel cuddle it or interact with it in any way. But maybe that wasn’t the point.

Maybe it was just good to know there was something familiar in your life you could rely on.

Hannah didn’t feel she could rely on anything at the moment. Indy had gone back to work, sitting at that desk dealing with death notices and flower arrangements and music for services and all the mundane pain and trauma.

Anxiety

And then there was this – one of your friends dead, just like Grandpa. How many more people in her life would die? But that was selfish, making it about her.

She tried to imagine Yu and Bolin, how they felt, but she couldn’t get her head around it.

She couldn’t catch her breath, anxiety creeping up from her stomach, freezing her heart and lungs, closing her throat, making it impossible to swallow.

She put a hand against the door jamb and sucked in air, felt her legs weaken, leaned against the wall, blinked to get rid of the spots drifting across her vision.

The second phone was key, that’s what Vic said. She had no idea if that was true but it was an anchor to stop her being cast adrift.

She walked to Mel’s bed, threw the teddy on the floor then the bedding, stripping the sheet from the mattress and the pillow cases too, shaking everything down, throwing it all into a pile in the middle of the room like a crumpled carcass.

She threw the pillows down too, then flipped the mattress onto the floor, checking underneath the slats on the frame. She pulled the bed frame away from the wall, stuffing her hand into the dusty gap. She came out with tissues, a bookmark, a postcard from her parents in Venice that must have slipped down there.

The bed had a low base and she heaved it onto its side, found some old running shoes under there, an empty suitcase, some boxes of first-year physics and maths notes.

She flipped through the pages, hoping to find something, but it was all just handwritten equations and diagrams, study schedules, boring stuff.

She went to the desk, pulled out the drawers and dumped them on the floor, sifted her hands through the stationery, not even thinking what she might find, just hoping the universe would guide her fingers, though she knew that was ridiculous.

Frantic

She was frantic, throwing junk behind her, getting her fingers into the corners of the drawers, tipping them over to check underneath because she’d seen a TV show once where someone had a secret key taped under their desk drawer.

But there was nothing, just a crude drawing that some moron must have scribbled on years ago.

She went to the wardrobe, flicked through dresses and blouses, taking each off the hanger and frisking it down like an airport security guard, throwing it onto the pile in the middle of the room.

Skirts and trousers next, then shoes, checking nothing was hidden inside. She imagined using the Force like in Star Wars, closing her eyes and having a crucial clue drift across the room from a secret hiding place and into her hand.

She closed her eyes for a moment and put her arms out, then felt immensely stupid when she opened them and looked at her empty hands.

The second phone was key, that’s what Vic said. She had no idea if that was true but it was an anchor to stop her being cast adrift

More tomorrow.