Oh, Oliver, please, I dont know what to do! The water is gushing everywhere, Im going to flood the neighbours, and you know what a dragon that Mrs. Baxter downstairs is! I cant stop shaking, I cant even find the stopcock! The voice on the end of the line was so sharp and piercing that even though Olivers phone wasnt on speaker, Susan heard every word from across the table.
Susan set her fork down onto her plate, the clang of metal on china echoing in their soft lamp-lit kitchen like the bell for the start of another round in a fight shed been fighting for years. Across from her, her husband Oliver shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the growing cold of the shepherds pie and the glowing screen of his mobile.
Hannah, calm down, he murmured into the phone. Which stopcock, love? Under the sink or in the loo? Try to turn off the main supply.
I dont know where it is! Oliver, please come over, Im terrified! What if its boiling water? I cant cope, Im on my own! came the reply, every word trembling with drama.
Oliver looked up at Susan with that mixture of pleading and resignation she had come to know so well. Sue, you hear that? he said quietly. Shell have everyone swimming downstairs. Hannahs hopeless with these things, like a child. I really ought to go.
Of course you should, Susan replied, her voice even and giving away nothing of the storm inside. Its not as though were celebrating an anniversary. Not as though we planned this evening for weeks or I spent three hours fussing in the kitchen. Off you go, Oliver. Go save Hannah. Shed be utterly helpless without you.
Oh dont start, Sue, please? Oliver leapt up, keys jangling in his hand. Shes a childhood friend. Shes in a mess. Ill be quick, honestly, Ill just swap the washer and come straight back. Put the pie in the oven for me, will you?
The front door banged behind him, leaving Susan alone in the house, scented with roast lamb and flavoured now with bitter disappointment. She went to the window and watched her husbands car speed off into the night.
Hannah. Her husbands childhood mate, classmate, the so-called one of the chapsat least, thats how Oliver introduced her. She had reappeared suddenly after her divorce, soon planting herself in their lives. At first it was just little favourshelp moving boxes, setting up the telly. Oliver, soft-hearted and ever willing, would of course oblige.
But as time went on, Hannahs needs began to resemble Acts of God. A flat tyre on the M1, a shower shelf fallen, or desperate need to assemble an IKEA wardrobe because I cant live in all this mess! Oddly enough, emergencies always seemed to come at the very moment Susan and Oliver had plans of their own.
Susan had never been the jealous type. She knew the difference between friendship and something more. But that inner voice of a wife told her it wasnt about broken taps. Hannah was a striking woman, always polished, with sultry eyes, and a way of talking to men as if they were knights from a legend. She played the helpless girl card expertly, and Oliver couldnt resist, straightening his back and setting forth as if off to slay dragons.
Susan put the dinner away. She had no appetite left. Oliver returned three hours later, muddy and tired but proud of himself.
Whew! Got there just in time. Nearly flooded the flat. The U-bend had come loose. Had to nip down to the all-night B&Q for parts. Hannah was beside herself, downing cups of chamomile tea.
Did she at least give you a cup for your trouble? Susan asked, pretending to be engrossed in a book.
She didand an apple tart. Shed just baked one. Said to send you her love and apologies for spoiling our evening.
Apple tart? Susan thought. So whilst she was supposedly in mortal peril from the plumbing, she found time to bake? Marvellous.
She didnt say anything. Rowing was pointlessit only made Oliver defensive, accusing her of pettiness and wild imaginings. No, best to be clever. Next time, she told herself, shed go with him.
They didnt have to wait long. The following Saturday, they planned a day at Susans parents place in the country. The weather was glorious, the boot was filled with marinated chicken, and in her mind, Susan pictured a sun-drenched afternoon sipping Pimms on the veranda.
While Oliver loaded the last of the charcoal into the car, his phone ranga special ringtone she recognised instantly, the one set for Hannah.
Yes, Hannah? Sparking? Where? Smells like burning? Okay, dont touch anything, just turn off the fuse box! Yes, Ill be right there.
He ended the call and looked guiltily at Susan, who stood at the garden gate, a tray of petunias in her hands.
Its the fuse box, he said, hurrying to explain. She says everythings fizzing and shes scared the placell go up. Theres no getting a council electrician out on a Saturday, and the private ones are a fortune.
I see, Susan replied quietly, setting the tray down. So the countrysides off?
No, not at all! Ill just pop in and have a look. If its serious Ill ring the emergency people, if its small Ill sort it. Its on the way, just a small detoura quick fix, honestly.
Fine. Im coming with you, Susan said.
Oliver was stunned. Why? You cant do electrics! Wait for me herewont be long.
No, Oliver. Were going together. We stop at Hannahs, you repair, and then we leave for my parents. I wont sit here twiddling my thumbs. Besides, I havent seen Hannah in ages.
Unable to argue, he relented. As they drove, Oliver drummed his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel. Susan sat calm as a statue, though inside she was taut with dread.
Hannah greeted them at the door in a silk dressing gown barely skimming her knees, her face flawlessly made up. She briefly faltered on seeing Susan get out, a flicker of disappointment crossing her lips, before composing herself and holding out a cheery greeting.
Susan! What a surprise! And me in this state, hair all over the place! she squeaked, adjusting already perfect curls. Come in, come in. Oliver, you darling, the fuse boxs making such a racket!
Inside, a faint whiff of burnt plastic hung in the air, but not disastrously so. Oliver was all business, immediately unscrewing the fuse box, tools in hand.
Come to the kitchen, Susan, lets have a natter while the men get on with it, chirped Hannah, tugging Susan gently away.
No, thanks, Ill stand herein case Oliver needs a hand. Might need someone to hold a torch.
A torch, really? Hannah giggled. Oliver could fix it blindfolded, couldnt you, Ollie?
Oliver only grunted in reply, busy with the wiring.
Why not ring the management company, Hannah? Susan asked pointedly. They run a 24-hour service. Electricitys serious business.
Oh please, those workmen are dreadful! Stomp dirt everywhere, bark at you, and leave a mess. Olivers always so careful, knows exactly what hes doing. I trust no one else.
The golden hands of my husband, Susan replied, with emphasis, were scheduled for lighting the barbecue tongs today. We were meant to be at my parents.
Oh, Im such a bother, Hannah whispered, clasping her hands. Its so hard running a place by myself, everything falling to bits. Youre lucky, Susansafe behind your very own wall.
Oliver finished in fifteen minutes. Loose wire, burnt bit. Cleaned and tightened it, but youll need a new circuit breaker, Hannah.
Oh, could you do that for me? Hannah crooned, sidling close enough to pluck imaginary dust from his shoulder. Pick out the right one? Ill pay. And fit it, please?
Oliver cant, Susan said, putting her foot down. Were off to my folks, and next weekend weve theatre tickets. Call an electrician. Oliver can write the model on a slip.
Hannahs lips pursed in annoyance, but she quickly turned to Oliver again, At least stay for coffee! I bought éclairs just for you!
Were fine, thank you, cut in Susan, taking her husbands arm. Busy day.
When they stepped out, Oliver exhaled deeply, then immediately started defending Hannah, Susan, that was a bit much! She means well.
Shes hanging on you, Ollie. With her robes and fluttering eyelashesits your attention she craves, not your repairs.
Nonsense! Were like brother and sister!
A brother who can fix the electrics, listen to her moan, and stroke her egoa very handy sort of sibling.
The drive to the country was a quiet one, a sharp undertone lingering. Susan understood: it wasnt over. Hannah had no intention of fading into the background. She enjoyed pulling strings, relishing the rush of power as someone elses husband came running at her first cry.
It all came to a head two weeks later. Oliver was away on a work trip, meant to return Friday evening. Susan whipped up his favourite dinner, thrilled for his return. At six, he called.
Sue, Ill be late. Just got into town, but Hannahs had an accident
What now? Susans voice was cold. An anvil through the window?
She bought a new curtain poleheavy wrought irontried to mount it herself (bit daft really), dropped it on her foot. Says her toes swollen and she cant move. The poles blocking the lounge. She wants me to pick it up, maybe grab a cream from the chemist. Ill be quick.
Susan drew a deep breath, Listen, Oliver. Go home. Ill go to Hannahs.
You? What for?
Its more of a womans thing. Ill know what gel she needs. Youre tired after your tripjust have dinner. Ill be over in half an hour.
Well if youre sure. Just dont row with her, alright? Shes hurt enough.
Susan hung up and sprang into action. Her mission: not to rescue Hannah, but the situation.
She googled Handyman Service, found a burly bloke with glowing reviews for his efficiency and no-nonsense attitude. Next, she ordered a delivery from the local pharmacy: painkillers and a support bandage, to be sent straight to Hannahs.
Heading over, Susan spotted the pharmacy courier at Hannahs block, intercepting him as he buzzed. She took the package herself and went up. The door was unlockedHannah, expecting Oliver, had clearly left it ajar for her knight.
Inside, the lounge was set for what could only be described as a rendezvous: flickering candles, a bottle of wine, two glasses poised on the table. Hannah herself reclined in her silk gown, her foot outstretched, the pole lying artfully on the lounge carpet.
Footsteps in the hall made Hannah moan, Oliver, is that you? Did you get the gel?
Susan flicked on the main light, banishing the artificial gloom and exposing every detail.
Hannah sprang upright, momentarily forgetting her bad foot. Susan?! What are you doing here? Wheres Oliver?
Oliver is home, tucking into dinner, Susan replied coolly, dropping the pharmacy bag on the coffee table. I bring you balm, and help.
Help? I needed Oliver! Hes strong, he can hang the curtain pole!
A professional will take care of that, Susan said.
Right then, the handyman rang the bell. Susan opened up and ushered him in. Curtain pole jobjust there. The owner will show you.
The chap walked in, eyed up the wall and pole, unpacked his drill. Concrete wall, right then, Ill need some proper screws. Wheres your step ladder, miss?
Hannah sat on the sofa, red as beetroot, glowering at Susan.
Why are you doing this? she hissed as the handymans drill thundered, drowning out their words.
Me? Susan feigned innocent surprise. Just helping, Hannah. Thats what you wanted, wasnt it? All sorted now: medicine, handymanall paid for. Olivers knackered, wants some time at home, you understand. Today you get what you wantedminus my husband.
Hannah leapt up, not limping at all.
Oh just leave! she spat. You play the saint, but Olivers going to suffocate from your rules! He wants excitementlightness! Youre just so proper!
Perhaps, Susan smiled. But he comes home to me. Youre grasping for attention from someone elses husband. Dont you find that a bit desperate? A beautiful woman like you doesnt need to go cap in hand for help. Plenty of men out therepick your own.
Out! screeched Hannah.
Gladly. The man finishes in twenty minutes, all paid for. Look after that foot, youre running around just fine for an invalid.
Susan left, feeling an immense sense of relief. Shed done itwith neither melodrama nor hair-pulling. Shed simply exposed the truth.
Back home, Oliver anxiously awaited her. Hows Hannah? Badly hurt? Shes not answering her phone.
Susan poured a cup of tea and sat across from him.
Shes perfectly well. She was walking just fine. The handymans doing her pole. I settled up.
You got a handyman? Id have
Oliver, sit down, Susan gestured.
He obeyed.
Did you honestly not realise whats going on? The candles, the wine, the silk gownthe desperate calls whenever Im not around?
Oliver went crimson, looking down, fidgeting with his napkin.
I suppose I knew. But shes a friend. I thought if I just ignored it, it would go away. I felt bad saying noshes always alone, fragile.
Fragile? Susan snorted. Shes been playing you. Trying so hard for her made things harder for us. Today, I saw clear as dayshe wasnt waiting for a handyman. She was waiting for you.
Oliver bowed his head, shame flooding his features. He remembered all the times Hannah brushed his arm by accident, held his gaze too long, heaped praise on him while putting Susan down.
Im sorry. Ive been a fool.
A silly fool, but a kind one. And I love you. But from now on, thats enough help for Hannah. She now has the number for the handyman service. If something breaks, she calls them. And if shes lonely, she calls someone else. Youre not her rescue squad anymore. Agreed?
Agreed, Oliver said, resolute. I understand. Thank you for going there. If Id seen those candles…Id have lost my cool.
Hannah never called again. Not after a week, nor a month. Prideor what was left of itforbade it.
Half a year later, Susan bumped into Hannah at the new M&S in town, arm-in-arm with an assured-looking gentleman laden with posh shopping bags. Hannah glanced at her, held her chin in the air, gave a disdainful sniff and sauntered past, as if Susan were a stranger.
Susan simply smiled. At last, Hannah had found someone to fix her pipes and hang up her curtain poles, all aboveboard. In Susan and Olivers house, at last there was peaceno more urgent calls to save the world from a leaky loo.
Now, evenings were for tea and holiday plans, and they knew: if they decided on a weekend away, nothing would stop them. Because the boundaries of a family must be guardedeven when the trespasser seems the most helpless creature in the world.
