The Broken Man by Josephine Cox

honking your car horn, and then you go all quiet on me, like something’s playing on your mind. And just now, when you said you were off fellas for good, why is that?’
    ‘Forget about it. I suppose I’m just not ready for settling down, that’s all.’ She hoped that would be the end to Sally’s questions.
    ‘But you sounded angry … as though you’d had a bad experience.’
    Unaware that she had touched a raw nerve, Sally went merrily on, ‘Most women look forward to a happy marriage, and children.’
    Anne regretted having made that controversial statement. ‘I’m sorry if you thought I was angry, because I wasn’t.’ She gave a little shrug. ‘It’s like my head’s all over the place at the minute. I don’t really know what I want, that’s the trouble.’
    ‘I reckon you’re tired. You said yourself that you’re not sleeping. I’m worried about you, Anne. So, what’s the problem? We’re like sisters, you and me, and you should know by now you can talk to me about anything, and you can rest assured it won’t go any further.’
    ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’ Anne felt vulnerable. ‘There’s nothing to talk about. I got out of the wrong side of bed this morning, that’s all. And now I’m spoiling everything. Look, take no notice of me. I promise, we will enjoy ourselves. I’ll make sure of it.’
    Still not altogether convinced, Sally had to accept her explanation. ‘Just remember, though, if there is ever anything on your mind and it’s causing you a problem, I’m a good listener. And I do know how to keep my mouth shut.’
    ‘I appreciate that, but there is nothing to tell. So now, can we please stop the chatter, and let me concentrate on my driving?’
    ‘OK, and if I open my mouth again, feel free to kick me out.’
    Sally’s light-hearted remark lifted the mood, but she had known Anne long enough to realise that something was worrying her, and one way or another, she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Meantime, she had to play along.
    ‘Right! So now let’s turn our thoughts to enjoying ourselves. OK?’
    When Anne seemed deep in thought, Sally asked her again, this time louder, ‘I said … OK?’
    ‘Yes … OK!’ Anne gave her answer with a willing smile.
    All these years she had kept her dark secret, but now she wondered if it was time to share her fears. After all, Sally was her best friend, and if you couldn’t tell your best friend, who could you tell?
    And yet the idea of confiding in anyone, even Sally, filled her with dread.

    Through the final leg of the journey, Anne concentrated on the road, while Sally’s thoughts were focused on Anne.
    She had suspected for some time now that Anne had a past she did not want to reveal. In all the time she had known her, Anne had never spoken about her family, or the circumstances that had brought her to Bedford.
    She had spoken often about her aunt Ada. It was clear she had adored the old woman, but not once had she mentioned her parents or other family. When one of their workmates asked her about her family, Anne always excused herself, claiming that she had something urgent to attend to or somewhere she should be.
    Sally, though, remained curious. But her affection for Anne meant that she must respect her friend’s right to privacy. Even though, as the years went by, Anne’s obvious need to bury her past was of some concern to Sally.
    She noticed things that worried her. First, Anne’s obvious reluctance to talk about her family did seem unnatural. Also, whenever she had been invited to Anne’s house, Sally soon realised that apart from one faded photograph of her old aunt as a young girl, Anne had no photographs on show of either herself or anyone else. And whenever the discussion turned to family, or girlish talk about when they were teenagers and experienced their first love, Anne would swiftly change the subject.
    It was a strange and curious thing, but it was Anne’s right not to discuss her private life. And