The Harder They Fall (39 page)

“Mam, come on!”

“Enough!” She turned and glared at Josh. “Brought you along for moral support, did he?”

“No, err…” He looked to George for assistance.

“Drink up,” was all he said. Josh did as he was told, appreciating the coldness of the milk, as it had cooled the tea quickly, and they were done in less than ten minutes.

“Right, Mum.” George leaned over her chair and kissed her cheek. “We’re off. See you in two weeks.”

“Why not next week?”

“Going away tomorrow.”

“So you’re not staying for tea?”

“No. Got to pack still.”

“Right, well you best hop it then. I think I’ve got some of that tinned spaghetti shite in the cupboard anyhow. Have a good time and behave.”

“I will,” George said and kissed her again.

“Bye,” Josh called.

“Ta-rah, love,” she said. He followed George out to the door, but just as he was about to step outside, she called him back. He was horrified. George shrugged to indicate he had no idea why. It looked like he had no choice in the matter: he went back to the living room and stopped just to the left of the chair, Monty growling and every so often flashing his teeth. George’s mum put her hand on the little dog and glanced at Josh, then returned her gaze to the TV as she spoke.

“He thinks he’s a big hard man, my Georgie, but he’s a soft lad. Got a big heart, he has, and doesn’t think to hide it. So you look after ’im, right? Or I’ll break your fuckin’ neck. Do you hear?”

“I hear.”

“Good. Now fuck off.” Josh didn’t need telling twice. He almost ran back out to George and didn’t care any more that the corridor stank of piss, nor that the lift clanged dangerously, nor that there was a strong probability his car was now resting on bricks. He was glad he had come, but he was absolutely overjoyed to be going.

When they got back to the car (still with its four wheels attached, although some young lads with skateboards were taking more than a passing interest in the petrol cap), both of them fell into their seats, and Josh put his foot down as hard as he dared without risking damage to his suspension. Only when they cleared the final row of maisonettes did either of them speak.

“What did she say?” George asked.

“She said I had to look after you.”

“OK?”

“And a bit more besides, but that was the gist.”

“She likes you. She didn’t mention Julian, so she must do.”

“Yeah. I like her. She’s…”

“Don’t you dare say ‘down to earth’!”

“I wasn’t going to.” Josh drove on, processing all the new information tumbling around his mind.

“What were you going to say, then?” George asked after about five minutes.

“I was going to say she’s made me appreciate just how lucky I am. I know that sounds really condescending, and it’s not meant to be. Seeing the way she just gets on with it, with no complaints…”

“Ha! She’s no stranger to moaning, when the mood takes her.”

“But that’s just it. She’s got plenty to moan about, unlike those bloody awful people who pay so they can come and dump their meaningless woes on me. They don’t know the half of it and neither do I.”

“And Josh finally gets a social conscience.”

“Hmm. Don’t you worry about her not eating and stuff?”

“Yeah, but what’s the point? She’ll eat if I cook something, which is why she was pushing for us to stay for tea, or dinner, whichever you want to call it.”

“Was she?”

“That comment about the spaghetti. She tries to make me feel guilty, and it works every time, because I’ve been thinking maybe we could have stayed a bit longer ever since we got in the lift.”

“Why didn’t you say?”

“Oh, I didn’t want to stay. It’s tough watching her struggle on, but she won’t accept help from anybody. She’s got her cleaning job in the primary school and her housing benefit. That’s it. She won’t take any money off me. And she still won’t bloody move out of that flat. I swear one day she’s going to burn the place down. It’s probably why the council have stopped hassling her—it’ll save them having to pay for the demolition.”

They’d arrived back at the house and remained in the car for a few minutes more, while Josh surveyed his own little corner of leafy suburbia through fresh eyes, and George continued to beat himself up over his mother’s spaghetti remark.

“I suppose we should go and pack,” he said finally.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Jess wasn’t going on the holiday. She’d reached the decision during the wedding reception, when everyone was ignoring her, and she could totally understand why, but how could she explain? Rob wanted to keep the full extent of his heart condition to himself, and whilst he hadn’t sworn her to secrecy, it was more than apparent that he didn’t want her to tell the others. When Eleanor lambasted her on Friday, she was desperate to share all that Rob had told her since the reunion, because the stress of keeping it to herself was immense. Much as she was attracted to him, the time they were spending together was for his benefit more than hers, and when he was finally gone, she’d be able to tell them the whole truth. She only hoped it wouldn’t be too late to save her friendship with Andy.

Unbeknownst to her, Kris was on his way round right at that moment. He would arrive to find her sitting on the sofa, stilled by indecision. Should she unpack the suitcase, or not? Kris knocked on the door and waited. This wasn’t his idea; it was Dan’s. They needed to get Jess out of the way, he said. Andy was still spoiling for a fight and was insistent that he was going to the house to get his things. How long Dan could contain him, he didn’t know, but something needed to be done, and Kris was the only one talking to her. So, here he was, knocking for a second time, having seen her through the window when he arrived, and as reluctant to be here as she was to let him in. She relented on his third knock.

“Hi,” she greeted him, her eyes ringed with last night’s mascara and sleeplessness. “Come in.” Kris stepped inside, noting the open suitcase in the lounge, the piles of clothes half-packed or half-unpacked; it was impossible to say.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked. A stupid question. He could see the answer right before him.

“Like shit,” she said, and sat with her head in her hands. He watched her cry from across the room. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to have any part of this. But Dan had said it was essential.

“Hey, come on,” he tried, a little more sympathetically than he’d intended, which was a good thing. He sat beside her and put an arm around her. She collapsed against him, her body shuddering with each sob. It was unusual to see Jess in such a state. She was always so together. He waited, said no more, patting or rubbing her back whenever it seemed appropriate to do so. He didn’t want to be here.

“If I tell you something,” she gulped between rasping intakes of breath, “will you promise not to tell anyone?”

“Erm. I guess?” he agreed, quite sure as he did so that the promise was destined to be broken at the first opportunity that presented itself.

Jess sniffed and wiped her eyes, leaving black trails on her sleeves. She steadied herself, took a deep breath, and began.

“Rob’s got a serious heart condition. He’s on a waiting list for surgery, but it could take months, and he doesn’t have that long.” The sobs erupted again. Kris put his arm back around her. He still didn’t want to be here, but at least he was beginning to understand why she had acted so inconsiderately over the past week.

“That must be very hard for you,” he said, once again impressed by how genuine he sounded.

“It is,” she gasped. “He loves me.”

“And you love him, I understand,” Kris said. He’d been here for ten minutes already. How on earth was he going to turn her from gibbering wreck to someone who would consider leaving the house before the next ten had also ticked by? That’s all he had.

“The thing is,” she continued, “I don’t love him at all. I care about him and find him very attractive, but I don’t love him.

“Oh.” Kris stopped patting her back. “So you’re doing this for him?” She nodded and sniffed. Well, he thought, that makes it quite admirable then, even if she has trampled all over her best friends along the way.

“And I can’t go on the holiday, because…” The sobbing again, for goodness’ sakes! And now the long sniffly silence. “Because he might…” She didn’t get any further than this, and Kris finished the sentence in his head.

“But he might not,” he reasoned. “Then not only will you have missed out on a holiday for no reason, you’ll have probably lost Ellie’s friendship for good. Listen.” This was it: not the ideal moment, and if he’d been going from a script instead of improvising, he’d have hoped for a more convincing build-up, but he had just nine more minutes. “Let’s go for a walk.” She didn’t protest. An encouraging sign. “Maybe stop off for some lunch and a drink somewhere, get you out of this place for a while.” And out of Andy’s way, he added silently.

“I don’t know, Kris. I’m in no fit state. I haven’t showered. I’m not even dressed.” Cue blubbering, interspersed with snotty sniffs. Time was ticking on.

“I’m not suggesting we go to a five star restaurant, just a pub lunch. Throw on some old jeans and you’ll do just fine.” Eight minutes and counting.

“Oh, I just…”

Tissue: she needs a tissue. Kris searched the room frantically. No tissues left! He ran upstairs to the bathroom and grabbed a length of loo roll.

“No excuses,” he said, shoving the wad of toilet paper at her. “Come on. You can cry on my shoulder, or we’ll talk about something else entirely.” Seven minutes.

She blew her nose and sighed. That was a good sign, surely? She was about to rally, but…no. More blubbering.

“Come on, Jess,” he said gently, although behind the scenes the director was cursing her for turning it into a melodrama. “Go put some clothes on. I’ll wait here.”

Finally the gasping chugged to a halt. She wiped her nose and peered at him through her hair. He pushed it from her face and nodded encouragingly. Six minutes.

“OK,” she said at last. She hugged him. He felt such a fraud.

“What’re you waiting for? Chop chop!” he said. This really was pushing it to the wire, and he had a feeling that even slinging on a pair of old jeans was going to take an awful lot longer than five minutes. Jess went upstairs. Kris took out his phone and typed frantically.

Much banging about overhead. The flush of the toilet. Brushing of teeth. A slammed door. More banging and then footfall on the stairs. Thank God. They were playing in extra time now.

“Ready?”

“Yeah. I just need to…”

“Get a coat. It’s a bit chilly out there today.”

“I need to put on a bit of eye liner.”

“You look gorgeous already.” And you’ve still got plenty on from last night, he thought.

“OK.” Jess grabbed her jacket and they were out of the door. Kris glanced furtively in both directions, picking what he hoped was the alternate route to Dan and Andy’s. He quickened his pace and Jess caught him up.

“What’s the big rush?”

“Just keeping warm.”

“I don’t think it’s too bad today, as it goes.”

They turned the corner just as Dan and Andy did, at opposite ends of the street. Kris checked his phone screen.

He typed to confirm they were and shoved his phone back in his pocket, affording Jess an overly bright smile. Was she on to him? Damn.

Andy let himself into the house and went straight upstairs, armed with a suitcase and his rucksack. He was taking everything he could fit inside these two receptacles, working on the assumption that this was the last time he’d set foot in the place. Anything he didn’t take now he was prepared to abandon. He’d work out where he was going to live when they got back from Wales.

Dan wandered restlessly between the downstairs rooms, collecting bits and pieces he knew belonged to his brother: a couple of DVDs; his phone charger; the keys to his written-off Audi. He picked up the photo of Andy with Jess, at her graduation ball, and slammed it face-down. Keeping his brother from retaliation was unbelievably tough, and made all the more difficult by his own barely contained rage. At least here, Adele wasn’t around to further stir things up.

Kris directed Jess over into a dark, quiet corner of the pub. It was a funny little place, with a few regulars standing at the bar, chatting about football, the landlord pulling pints and joining in with the conversation. Drinks poured and food ordered, Kris took the chair opposite.

“The reason I left the hen party,” Jess began to explain. Great, he thought, more excuses, although the effects of Shaunna’s poison were beginning to wear off. “Was to go and see Rob’s bike.”

“OK.” Surely she’d seen it plenty of times already, seeing as she’d spent most of the week with her legs spread either side of it?

“Not the one he rides,” she added. Kris wondered if he’d accidentally asked the question out loud. “He has another one. An Indian Scout, or something, totally rebuilt and worth about twenty-five grand. He’s selling it, to pay for the operation privately. Anyway, he’d been going on about this bike all week, and how he wanted to show it to me. He’s so proud of all the work he’s done to restore it.” She stopped to drink. Kris waited.

“So,” she continued, “he sent me a text on Thursday night to say this guy was coming to look at the bike on Friday morning and he was gutted I wasn’t going to get to see his pride and joy. And I thought, it won’t take long. I’ll just go with him now. He can show me the bike and Ellie won’t know a thing about it. She was busy with her sisters and everyone else. How was I supposed to know she was going to come and find us all to give us those stupid wings?”

“And the bike?”

“Meh. It’s a bike. Nothing special, as far as I could see. But it’s a classic, which is why it’s worth so much.”

“So he’s sold it now, has he?”

“Yeah. The guy who came to see it is bringing the cash tomorrow, Rob says.”

A young girl arrived at their table and laid plates before them. Kris’s phone vibrated.