Free Another Country by Anjali Joseph

late winter, Christmas Day. Leela was sandwiched between the softness of the sofa and the hot blast of the fire and aware, further away, of the cold beyond the French doors. It was like Jane Eyre , she thought groggily, but without the cruelty. Surely they would now start reading enormous picture books, or look at maps, then fall into a frowsy and terrifying dream. England at Christmas was always like this: a fictional place into which she, Gulliver-like, had fallen. But Amy’s family and their warmth cushioned her.
    Orange peel, pips, and cheese rind sat on a plate. Leela and Amy drank tea.
    â€˜I’m seriously going to lose some weight.’
    â€˜Yeah, as soon as New Year’s done.’
    â€˜So we’ll be fat for New Year?’
    â€˜It’s inevitable, with the way it comes straight after Christmas.’ Amy pressed her stomach down and towards her groin, as though willing it to flatten.
    â€˜I feel sick,’ Leela repeated.
    â€˜Cheese?’
    They both started to laugh.
    â€˜Maybe just a bit.’

    Leela went up to stash her presents, throw away the wrapping, and tidy up – they were later going out to the sole pub nearby that would be open, with Amy’s father and a friend of his. Just then, the telephone began to ring. Amy’s mother’s silvery voice called up.
    â€˜Lee-la!’
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜Telephone for you, love. It’s your mother.’
    She ran down the stairs, slightly embarrassed. She’d given her parents the number when she had still been in Paris. But she’d half hoped they wouldn’t call. She had a vague sense that Amy’s parents disapproved of hers, but couldn’t be sure. She felt mildly guilty about it, and shifty, as whenever different areas of her life converged.
    â€˜Hello?’
    She held the cordless phone Amy’s mother had given her, and stood looking at the dresser in the kitchen.
    â€˜Hello darling,’ said her mother’s voice, unexpectedly melodious and soft.
    â€˜Hi,’ Leela repeated.
    â€˜Happy Christmas. We thought this’d be a good time to catch you. Are you having a good time?’ Her voice, dissociated from her physical presence, was flexible and slightly cracked.
    â€˜Happy Christmas,’ Leela said.
    â€˜So how is it?’
    â€˜It’s nice, I’m having a really nice time.’ She was, but her voice sounded flat and resentful.
    In the hall she heard Amy and her little brother squabbling.

    Later that night she and Amy lay in bed together, a habit from earlier in their friendship, and talked in the darkness.
    â€˜So has what’s-his-name been in touch?’
    â€˜Simon?’ Leela could tell she had her friend’s attention. ‘No. I don’t really know what’s happening.’ She stretched out one bare foot and a pyjama’d leg. Amy in sleep was assertive about the covers. Leela usually tried the stealth pull: loosening the duvet from Amy’s grasp, then rolling over to cover herself. It rarely worked for long.
    â€˜Did he speak to you before you left?’
    â€˜Well, we saw each other a few days before that.’
    â€˜Did he say when he’d be in touch?’
    â€˜Uh, no.’
    â€˜Oh, right.’
    Silence.
    â€˜So you didn’t fancy Rob?’
    â€˜He was fit, sort of. Do you think the lower half of his face is a bit ratty?’
    â€˜Well – no, I think he’s lovely looking.’
    â€˜We didn’t have anything to say to each other.’
    â€˜You didn’t have to say anything.’
    â€˜Yeah. I dunno. I didn’t want to. What did he say? Did he say anything?’
    Amy rolled over, taking much of the duvet with her. ‘Dunno. Jason said, Rob said he thought Leela fancied him, then she didn’t get off with him.’
    Leela mused on this. After a minute or two she said, ‘But listen, right –’
    Amy was asleep.
    Leela lay with one leg under the covers, then got