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Rachel realised, once she'd settled Janet into the taxi beside her ("fasten your seatbelt, that's a good girl"; the driver had glared at them in the rear-view mirror as though he thought he was transporting lunatics), that she knew very few places in Manchester to go which didn't involve drinking. She hadn't wanted to take Janet to another pub, but she didn't have any other ideas, so she leant forwards and asked the driver to take them to The Hare.

A smaller pub on the outskirts of town. She'd been a couple of times when she'd wanted somewhere more classy – yes, even Rachel Bailey sometimes craved some class – and they did a bloody good glass of red wine with complimentary peanuts. She bought them each an apple juice.

"Tastes of piss," Janet muttered.

"You're really getting into the swing of being me now, aren't you?"

Janet's face crumbled again. Rachel shoved the peanuts towards her quickly, then realised this wasn't very Janet-y, and took her friend's hand instead.

"What's wrong, Jan?"

"Everything."

"The fight with Godzilla?"

"Mmhm," Janet wiped her eyes with salty fingers and left fragments of crystals on her cheeks, "Before the– before the fridge thing. I made a mistake, with one of the files, I put it in the right place– no, I put it in the wrong place, I mean, and she couldn't find it. I found it, but she was all pissy with me."

"All pissy?"

"She was like 'oh, just because we're friends you don't have carte blanche' and I told her I was a good copper and it didn't have anything to do with her being my friend, and I told her it wasn't fair that she was suggesting I was only on MIT because she was my friend."

"I'm sure she didn't really mean that."

"No, but it hurt, Rach." She sniffled like a little girl. Her eyes were rolling slightly. She kept pausing and glancing up at the ceiling, like she was trying to remember where she was. "It hurt that she said it. And then she started bitching about you."

What have I done? Rachel felt terrible for having allowed her friend to do this to herself. She'd taken advantage of Janet's emotion because she wanted something to laugh about; this Life Swap thing wouldn't be a joke tomorrow. Rachel had checked that Taisie and Elise were staying with Dorothy first, but still, why had she let Janet do this, when she knew it'd end in Janet suffering with a monster hangover, and arguing more with Gill?

"My phone," Janet said. Her fingers were shaking; it took her about five minutes to find her phone. "It's from Taisie. She says they're watching Miss Marple and eating Malseters. I mean Malse– no, it's–"

"Maltesers."

"They don't need me any more."

"Of course they do," Rachel exclaimed. Whatever she'd expected – something about Ade gallivanting and leaving her to do everything for the girls rather than helping out – it wasn't this. "Don't be silly."

"No, they don't need me. They're growing up, and I thought they'd always want their mum, but now they want to stay with their friends and they don't tell me anything. And I'm going to lose them."

More juice had splashed onto the table than gone down Janet's throat. Janet kept trying to drink from the glass, although it was obviously empty.

"You're not, Jan. They'll always need you. They just need space as well."

Rachel was about to suggest going home (she was tired; it was probably the lack of alcohol) but Janet, as though the wine had given her mind-reading skills, clung to Rachel's sleeve.

"Please, I don't want to go home. I don't want to be on my own tonight. I'm on my own every night now, and I'm sick of it. Please."

She wondered what Gill would think if she walked in now and found them like this. Of course Janet's change was the most evident; she was leaning in the apple juice, babbling as tears streamed down her cheeks. But if Gill sat down she'd see that Rachel was entirely sober and concerned for her friend, and in a way that was just as strange. Rachel didn't like feeling as though she was acting out of character; it felt like she'd lost control when she'd agreed to let Janet do the drinking and the swearing tonight, in her place.

Janet leapt up and stumbled for the bathrooms, head butting the door on her way in. Rachel collected Janet's abandoned phone from the table (it may have been a classier pub, but that didn't mean things didn't 'go missing') and followed her; she found Janet splayed out on the floor, leaning into the toilet basin. Rachel gathered up her friend's hair from her shoulders and tried to stop herself from gagging as she listened to Janet bring up her stomach's contents.

"I'm sorry, Janet. I didn't mean for this to–"

Janet wiped her mouth with her sleeve and stained it a sort of purple-grey. "I'm not Janet, I'm Rachel."

"No, you're not. That was all a joke, and it's not a joke any more. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have– look, we should really go home. I'll stay with you; we'll put on a movie or something. Come on, let me help you up."

Rachel wrapped her arms around Janet's waist and dragged her up onto her feet (Janet was quite slim, but almost impossible to lift when she was semi-conscious, her limbs flailing in all directions). Only then did she realise that Janet's ankle was bent sideways; she stumbled into the cubicle door, unable to put any weight on it.

"Oh, shit, you must have fallen on it when you were– shit," Rachel held her more tightly, "What are we going to do?"

"When you're uncertain," Janet whispered, "You must ask yourself: what would Rachel Bailers do?"

"Bailey. It's Bailey." Rachel suddenly wanted to cry to.

"It hurts, Rachel. My foot hurts and my head hurts and my heart hurts."

Shit, shit, shit. She wanted to call Kevin or Gill or someone, but her pride couldn't stand it; she couldn't let them see what she'd done to Janet. And Janet would kill her if she knew they'd seen her like this too.

"Lean on me, that's it. I'll call another taxi and we'll go back to my flat."

"No men?" Janet asked, half deliriously.

"Come on. Don't worry, I'm going to make it okay."

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