Beautiful Broken Things(Beautiful Broken Things #1)(21)

I turned my head to see where she was looking. The man in her eyeline was not the figure I’d have expected even if I’d been prepared for the sight of him. I’d imagined someone huge, with broad shoulders and thick fists. This man was lean and average-looking, with dark brown hair flecked with grey. He was wearing a white shirt and jeans, like my own dad did when he wasn’t working. He was laughing at something another man was saying, looking relaxed. Not at all like the kind of man who could hit a child. Could hit Suzanne.

In the few seconds it took me to take all of this in, and before I could even think of what to say to Suzanne, he must have felt our stares because he glanced over at us. For an instant his face registered shock, but just for an instant. I saw his eyes flicker slightly, taking in the full length of Suzanne, but then, his expression blank, he turned back to the people he was with.

I looked back at Suzanne just in time to see the agonized expression on her face before she shoved the box of nachos into my hands, turned and bolted.

The last few seconds had been so confusing it was all I could do to hold on to my Coke and the partially upended nachos. Suzanne had shoved the box so roughly a bunch of the tortilla chips had fallen on the floor and I saw a splodge of salsa on my jacket. I tried to right the items in my hands, but I felt strangely disconnected, as if my own world had itself been partially upended. Which was stupid, of course; it hadn’t even happened to me.

I hesitated in the middle of the foyer, torn between going after her and getting Rosie for back-up. Despite myself, I glanced towards the man again. Now, he looked pained. Before he could turn and see me standing alone, I went to find Suzanne.

I found her bent double on a bench by the car park, arms clutched around her head. A woman sitting on the other end of the bench was looking at her half with worry and half with alarm, clearly wondering if she should say anything.

Before she could make a move, I kneeled on the concrete at Suzanne’s feet, careful to leave a bit of space for her to breathe. Once, when Tarin had been rendered almost catatonic after a particularly bad panic attack, I’d moved in too close in my attempt to help and she’d headbutted me – completely by accident – when her head jerked back at the sound of my voice.

‘It’s me,’ I said, keeping my voice quiet so the woman wouldn’t hear. ‘But take your time, OK?’

I heard a noise like a suppressed sob but she gave no other indication that she’d heard me, or that she even knew I was there.

‘Caddy?’ I jumped, turning my head to see Rosie’s mum, Shell, standing behind me. She was holding two shopping bags and she looked confused and worried. ‘What’s wrong? What happened?’

The woman on the bench leaned forward slightly and said, directing the question to Shell, ‘Is everything OK here?’ She had an American accent and an imposing voice. Perhaps it was unintentional, but the question sounded almost accusing.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Shell said, which was ridiculous. There were times when being polite was just not worth it, and this was one of them. Everything was clearly not fine. She should have just said, No, it’s not OK, but that doesn’t make it any of your business.

‘Should I call someone?’ the woman persisted.

This was such a bizarre thing to say that I couldn’t stop myself. ‘Like who?’

‘Caddy,’ Shell said, reproach in her voice. To the woman she said, with the same polite tone she’d used before, ‘Thank you for your concern, but this is a personal matter.’

I saw Suzanne’s whole body tense up further, her elbows crushing against her ears. Her hand seemed to spasm slightly and without thinking I reached up and took hold of it. Her fingers clamped down around mine almost instantly, squeezing tight. I heard her exhale a shaky, gasping breath.

‘One time,’ I said in the most normal voice I could manage, ‘when me and Roz were about seven, my parents went through a phase where they wanted to keep chickens. In the garden, you know? Rosie thought this was really cruel, because we were taking their eggs away to eat, and if we didn’t eat them they’d become chicks. She thought she’d save one, so she took one out of the chicken coop before my dad could get it and put it in our airing cupboard so it would keep warm. But then of course she went home and forgot all about it. Problem is, we didn’t really use our airing cupboard that much, so God knows how long it was in there, but my dad eventually found it one morning before work, and he carries it into the kitchen, going to my mum, “Do you know anything about this egg?” and then it pretty much exploded all over his suit.’

I heard a snuffle of something like laughter from behind Suzanne’s arms.

‘One day I’ll tell you about the time we tried to make a slide on the stairs out of a piece of tarpaulin and a bit of fairy liquid and vegetable oil.’ I said.

‘Oh God,’ Shell said drily. ‘I’d forgotten about that.’

Suzanne’s elbows parted slightly and she peeked out at me. I put on my very best encouraging, this-is-a-safe-space smile and said, ‘Hi.’

‘Hi,’ she whispered.

Shell moved around me and sat herself down on the bench next to Suzanne, putting an arm around her shoulders and squeezing. I saw Suzanne stiffen slightly, but she let herself be hugged.

‘Shall I take you home?’ Shell suggested in a quiet, kind voice.

Suzanne’s fingers were bunched up inside her sleeves. She brought her fist to her mouth and bit down on her knuckles. ‘I’m not allowed to be at home by myself.’ Her face, which had steadied itself, crumpled again. ‘And Sarah’s at work.’