Paper Chains (27 page)

Authors: Nicola Moriarty

Tags: #General, #Fiction

BOOK: Paper Chains

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Hannah was feeling something strange. It was an icy tingling that was starting in her gut and spreading out, along her arms, down her legs. It was taking the ache in her back and encasing it in a cool jelly. It was circling the twinge in her knee, winding its way around and around until the joints felt like rubber. It shot up her neck and sent sparks flying from her face.

She could see the finish line up ahead.

It was euphoria.

For a split second she felt as though she could turn around and do another lap, another entire forty-two kilometres. In fact, she could sprint it! But another idea was tugging at her, and that idea was slowly becoming much more appealing. What she would actually quite like to do was let her legs fold up underneath her and collapse, preferably into a cold swimming pool, with someone there to hold her head above the water so she didn’t sink under the surface and drown. Oh, and maybe someone else there to rub her feet – that would be nice too. A thought suddenly crossed her mind. She was remembering the rubbish she used to post on Facebook, the lies she used to tell the world when she was pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. And she was thinking about what she could write on Facebook right now. Maybe something like, ‘Fuck you, postnatal depression, you’re no match for a girl that can run a marathon.’ Yep, that was perfect; it was about time she told the truth. She would have to remember to log on later today.

Focus, Hannah! You’re almost there!

As she crossed the finish line, two things happened.

First, she heard a voice, a high-pitched voice, rising above the noise of the crowd, yelling out, ‘Go Mummy! Go Mummy!’

Second she saw a face, behind Liam and Simon. A face she hadn’t expected to see at all – because, well, it was impossible for her to be there. But as quickly as Hannah spotted the face, it vanished once again, and Hannah was left to wonder if it was simply her imagination playing tricks on her.

And that feeling of euphoria absolutely exploded from within as she finally stopped running.

Afterwards they found a café. It had couches outside on the sidewalk with bright orange and red cushions. Liam watched his wife in awe as she ferociously devoured two plates of food. ‘So apparently marathons make you really hungry,’ she said with her mouth full. ‘Huh, who knew?’

Gracie sat playing with sugar packets, her forehead creased with concentration as she tried to build a castle with them, and Simon entertained Ethan, bouncing him up and down on his knees and watching him gurgle with delight. Simon looked happy enough, but after a while, Hannah noticed his gaze wandering and she leaned across to ask him how he was really doing.

‘I’m okay,’ he said firmly.

‘Honestly?’ she persisted.

He paused and then he shrugged. ‘Honestly, I think about her every single day. I miss her like crazy. But I’m getting there.’

They stayed there late into the afternoon, until eventually Ethan fell asleep on Simon’s lap and the staff began to give them enough significant looks to indicate that they had been there for far too long. When they finally stood up, Hannah realised her legs had turned to jelly and they all laughed as she walked unsteadily away from the table, with Liam supporting her around the waist. When her legs had finally returned to normal, she held hands with Liam on one side and Gracie on the other. Simon walked a few steps ahead, still nursing a sleeping Ethan, and Hannah wondered whether she should tell Simon what she had seen as she had finished the race, if she should just say,
She’s still with you, Simon
. Because when she had spotted India’s face in that crowd, she had been just behind Simon’s shoulder, and her arm had been casually looped around his waist, and she had been smiling – that comfortable, effortless smile that you wore when you were arm in arm with the person you loved. But then again, perhaps it was all in her imagination.

EPILOGUE

‘Excuse me?
Excuse
me? Hello?’

Hannah swung around and saw a petite, attractive girl with round blue eyes staring at her, looking slightly annoyed.

‘Oh sorry, were you talking to me?’ she asked in surprise. She was at Sydney airport, waiting in the queue to check their baggage. They’d just spent the weekend with Jack and Carol; Liam was waiting for her in the food court, giving the children their lunch.

‘Yes, actually,’ said the girl crossly. ‘Here, can you take this letter for me. It’s for a girl called Jess, she lives in New Zealand, works at the Gloria Jean’s on Park Street in Wellington.’ The girl held the letter out and tapped her foot impatiently.

‘But I’m not going to New Zealand, I’m flying to Melbourne.’

The girl huffed irritably. ‘That’s not the point. You’re supposed to pass it on to someone else on your travels. It’ll get there eventually. Don’t you
know
how this works? It’s all over the Internet; this is how everyone sends their love letters now. It was started by some Indian girl with cancer or something. This one is from a guy called Ryan in the States.’

‘How romantic,’ said Hannah, not quite sure what else to say as she took the letter.

‘You think? Personally, I think it’s getting a bit passé. Maybe it was romantic, like, three months ago when it first started, but, you know, whatever.’

Hannah couldn’t help but smile as she was called forward to check her bags.

India would have absolutely loved this.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A gigantic thank you to Steve Menasse, Diane Moriarty and Jaci Moriarty for reading my earliest drafts and giving me so much incredible feedback and encouragement. I’m also grateful to Liane Moriarty for listening to the original idea for this story and providing advice and support.

Thank you to Sally Findlay for being my Elizabeth, to Kelly Murray for letting me borrow your Facebook status and to Min Lyman, Brooke MacDonald and Kerry Lockwood for helping me out with my medical research.

Pippa Masson at Curtis Brown is the best agent a writer could wish for and Beverley Cousins, Patrick Mangan and Annabel Adair at Random House all worked very hard to make this book complete.

To all of my family and friends, thank you for your continued support, especially to Steve, Maddie and Piper for being amazing.

To any readers and book bloggers who have contacted me via email, Facebook and Twitter – you don’t know how much that means to me: hearing your kind feedback makes me infinitely happy.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Nicola Moriarty lives in Sydney’s north-west with her husband and two small (but remarkably strong-willed) daughters. She is currently studying an Arts degree with a Writing major at Macquarie University. Her first novel,
Free-Falling
, was published in February 2012.

Praise for Nicola Moriarty’s debut,
Free-Falling

‘
Free-Falling
is funny, edgy and real’
Courier Mail

‘A wonderful book. I enjoyed reading it so much I didn’t want it to end’ Deborah Rodriguez, author of
The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul

‘Just read
Free-Falling
and loved it. What a debut!’ Ber Carroll, author of
The Better Woman

‘Sad but uplifting, bittersweet yet humorous,
Free-Falling
is a fantastic debut novel that kept me hooked right until the end’
Great Aussie Reads

‘
Free-Falling
is a sweet tragic-romantic comedy, essentially about how people can be separated by grief . . . It is gentle and pleasant and worth recommending to those who want a light summer read’
Australian Bookseller & Publisher

‘Full of heartfelt moments and nicely conceived outcomes’
West Weekend

‘Moriarty has such a deft touch with humour and whimsy that her debut is thoroughly appealing and deliciously readable’
Read In A Single Sitting

‘I was captivated by this novel’
Book’d Out

‘Unexpectedly hopeful and funny’ Jaye Ford, author of
Beyond Fear

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian
Copyright Act 1968
), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Version 1.0

Paper Chains

ePub 9781742752631

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

A Bantam book

Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd

Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060

www.randomhouse.com.au

Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at
http://www.randomhouse.com.au/about/contacts.aspx

First published by Bantam in 2013

National Library of Australia

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