Necessary as Blood

turned it off.‘ Hazel dug in her bag for the phone and switched it on. Then her eyes widened in horror. ‘Oh, God, is Holly all right? I didn‘t think—‘
    ‘No, no, she‘s fine,‘ Gemma assured her, regretting her outburst. ‘I just saw her an hour ago. But you‘ll have fifty million voice-messages from Tim and me.‘ Gemma noticed that although her friend still looked gaunt, her hair had been washed and her clothes were clean. ‘Are you all right?‘ she asked, her anger evaporating.
    ‘I‘m not sure, to tell you the truth,‘ Hazel said haltingly. ‘I think I might be.‘
    Gemma stared at her, baffled. ‘We need to talk.‘ Looking up and down the street, she saw rows of cars baking in the still-brittle evening light, but nowhere to sit. ‘Let‘s go back to the house. Or we can get something to drink at Otto‘s.‘
    ‘No, I — not yet.‘ Hazel swayed a bit. ‘My knees feel a bit like jelly, all of a sudden.‘
    Gemma thought for a moment, then linked her arm through Hazel‘s. ‘Let‘s just walk for a bit. I have an idea.‘ She guided them round the corner into Portobello Road and turned north. Their steps fell into a rhythm, and after a few minutes she felt some strength return to Hazel‘s stride. At Tavistock Road, the trees provided welcome shade, but Gemma led them on, under the cavernous shadow of the Westway.
    ‘We‘ll get some juice,‘ she said, leading Hazel into a health-food store, one of the small shops built under the motorway.
    Gemma bought them both plastic bottles of mango-orange juice and thanked the proprietor. Then she led Hazel out the far side of the underpass and into the rectangular green of Cambridge Gardens.
    The small garden looked deserted without the jumble of its Saturday market stalls, but further down the parallel arcade, kids were taking advantage of the empty pavement to skateboard. The hum of the overhead traffic meshed with the whoosh of the boards‘ wheels in a comforting symphony of white noise. emma picked the bench that seemed to have the smallest accumulation of pigeon droppings and sat, pulling Hazel down beside her.
    She popped the top off the juice bottle and sipped, then turned to face her friend and said, ‘Toll me.‘
    Hazel drank, then closed her eyes and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. ‘It‘s good. So mango-y. I never realized that mangoes don‘t taste like anything else.‘
    ‘Hazel...‘
    ‘I know... It‘s — it‘s just that I don‘t know how to explain — talking about how I felt — how I feel — seems horribly self-indulgent now. I‘ve done enough damage thinking about me as it is.‘
    ‘Don‘t go all therapist on me. Just tell me what happened,‘ said Gemma patiently. ‘Start with the phone. Why did you turn it off?‘
    Hazel shook her head. ‘I — you‘re going to think...‘ She saw Gemma‘s fierce expression and went on hurriedly. ‘All right, all right. It was Sunday. After I got ho — back to the bungalow, from Islington. I was so angry. At you, at Tim, at myself.‘
    ‘At me?‘ said Gemma, surprised.
    Hazel gave a small smile. ‘You didn‘t want me there on Saturday night, at the house in Fournier Street.‘
    She hadn‘t, Gemma remembered with a flush of guilt. ‘But, Hazel, I didn‘t know what had happened. I had to—‘
    ‘Oh, I know you had good reasons, professional reasons. But the truth was that you could have worked round them, if you‘d had a mind to. I was being a bitch and you didn‘t want me there. And I knew it.‘ When Gemma started to protest again, Hazel touched her arm. ‘No, let me finish. I knew it, but I couldn‘t seem to stop myself. I was jealous of that family, those poor people. And Sunday, even when I knew he was dead — Tim‘s friend — it just got worse. I felt like — oh, I don‘t know — like I was sinking under a weight of black oil, suffocating in it.
    And then, when I got home, and I realized I had done nothing to comfort that little girl... and that I had been so mired in my own nasty, seeping bitterness that I hadn‘t even cared for my own child‘s feelings, I...‘ Hazel stopped, drinking a little more juice and watching the skateboarders, and Gemma waited.
    After a few minutes, Hazel went on. ‘That was when I turned off the phone. I couldn‘t bear the thought of talking to anyone. I couldn‘t explain myself. I sat for a long time, in the dark. And it began to seem as if it might be better for everyone if I just... disappeared.