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Whatever Ryan was expecting, it wasn’t that. His face goes white beneath the dark beard. But he’s not surprised, or not as surprised as he should be, if the accusation were news to him.
There’s a long silence. Ryan raises his cup to his lips, takes a slow, painful swallow, and then sets it down and gives a shaky nod.
“It’s true?” Hannah asks. Ryan shrugs, one shoulder lifting higher than the other.
“Who knows. You know what April was like.”
“You think it was a prank?”
“I still have no idea. We…” His face twitches and he looks away from her, not meeting her eyes. “We were sleeping together; you probably knew that already.”
Hannah exhales. She’s not sure what to say. It’s weird to have her suspicions confirmed.
“I—I didn’t know for sure,” she says at last. “Not then. But looking back… I’m not completely surprised. How long?”
“Most of that year,” Ryan says. His mouth twists unhappily. “The first time was before I knew she and Will were an item—I wouldn’t have done if I’d known they were official; least, that’s what I tried to tell myself. When I found out, I felt like a complete prick. But I’d already done it once, so…” He shrugs again.
“What about Emily?” Hannah says. Her throat is tight, thinking of Em and this serial betrayal. April was never Em’s friend in the way that she was Hannah’s friend. There was always something a bit antagonistic there, a little mistrustful. But they were friends, in the meaning of the act. They hung out together.
“Yeah, I felt like a prick to her too. More than a prick. But that was the problem—once I’d done it the first time, April had me over a barrel.”
“What, you mean she was forcing you into it?” Hannah doesn’t try to keep the skepticism out of her voice. This is all a little bit too convenient for Ryan—and April didn’t need to emotionally blackmail people into sleeping with her. She would have had candidates queuing up around the block if that was what she’d wanted.
Ryan’s face is unhappy.
“I know. I know what you’re thinking. And yeah, a’ course the truth is that I could have stopped it anytime I wanted. I had a choice—every time she called or texted or sidled up to me at chucking-out time saying Will’s busy, I could’ve turned her down. I know that. I’m just saying, it’s fucking hard to say no to someone who’s got your girlfriend on speed dial. I knew I was being a shit, but… yeah, I’m not going to lie. I wanted to shag April. So I did. I knew she din’t want to get found out any more than I did.”
His mouth twists, and Hannah can see the self-hatred still in his eyes, but there’s another kind of loathing there too, and now she understands… or she thinks she does. Ryan’s antipathy to April was real—but it wasn’t because April was rich and beautiful and had life handed to her on a plate. At least, it wasn’t just that. Ryan had hated her because of what they were doing together.
“What about the pregnancy, then?” she asks. Her throat is dry, and she takes another sip of tea. It’s cooler now. “When did that happen?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t see her those last couple of weeks, she was so busy with rehearsals and everything. But she texted me the morning after the first night of the play. The text just said, Look in your pigeonhole. So I looked. And there was a Jiffy bag containing a pregnancy test—two lines. I texted back saying, Is this a joke? And she replied back, Positively not.”
“Shit.” Hannah doesn’t know what to think. It’s the kind of prank April would pull—but at the same time… “Did it look real?”
“How the fuck should I know?” Ryan says bluntly. “I’d never seen a pregnancy test. She could have drawn those lines on with a… a—” He screws up his face, searching for the missing word, and Hannah bites her lip, trying to stop herself jumping in. “With a biro for all I knew. But… yeah, if I’m being honest, it looked real. Enough to send me into a tailspin, anyway. I spent the rest of the week panicking and alternately crapping myself and telling myself that it probably wasn’t mine—and then—and then—”
He breaks off. Hannah sees there are tears in his eyes. And then April was killed.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she says gently.
Ryan gives a short, barking laugh and runs his good hand through his hair, making it stick up like a porcupine’s spines. “Why do you think? Because she’d been strangled and I knew that if I told them about the test it would be me and Will in the firing line. And because I didn’t know. I had no idea if it was just one of her stupid fucking pranks. I thought if it was true then they would find out at the—the medical thing, autopsy, that’s it, and it would all come out without me having to admit I knew anything. I waited and waited for days and then weeks—but the call never came. And then they arrested Neville and I thought—” He stops. His eyes are filled with tears and there’s a muscle ticcing in his cheek. Hannah can see he is tired, exhausted in fact. She feels a stab of remorse.
“I was so fucking thankful, you know?” he says. His voice breaks on the last word. “It was just April’s sick joke. But later… later on I started to wonder.”
“I’m sorry,” Hannah says. She stands up. “I’m really sorry, Ryan, I shouldn’t have dug all this up. Listen, I should go, I’ve kept you talking too long, and I have to get back to Edinburgh be—” She stops, stumbling over the last words. Before Will gets home is what she had been going to say, but she doesn’t want to admit to Ryan that she’s here without Will’s knowledge. “Before rush hour,” she finishes uncomfortably.
Ryan nods.
“Fair enough. Look, take care of yourself, okay? And if you want any baby clothes—”
He waves a hand at the living room, which is strewn with the plastic detritus left by two small girls.
“As you can see we’re due a clear-out. And I don’t think Bella’s up for any more kids.”
“Thanks,” Hannah says. She smiles. It’s a relief doing so after the seriousness of the last half hour. “I’d like that. And you take care of yourself too.”
“I will,” he says. He wheels with her to the door and unlatches it. Then, on the doorstep, he beckons her to lean over, and somewhat to Hannah’s surprise, he plants a kiss on her cheek. His lips are soft, and his beard even softer, much gentler than Will’s occasional three-day stubble when he forgets to shave. “You didn’t deserve this, Hannah Jones. Remember that, a’right?”
