Not that he has said it, but that he has said it in front of Poppy.
She glances quickly at Poppy to gauge her reaction. She is smiling at Laurel, willing her to complete the moment. She has no idea how hard this is for Laurel. But they are both gazing at her, waiting for her to give them something, and it is Christmas and it is dark and for some reason Laurel feels that she must do this, that it is hugely important in some strangely sinister way she can’t quite define, and so she smiles and says, “And I love you both, too.”
Poppy pulls Laurel into a hug. Floyd follows suit. They hold each other for a moment or two, the three of them, the heat of their combined breath meeting in the heart of the embrace. Eventually they pull apart and Floyd smiles at Laurel and says, “That’s all I want for Christmas. That’s all I want. Full stop.”
Laurel smiles tightly. She thinks of the press cuttings on Floyd’s desk. She thinks of the carrot cake they’d shared in that café near her hairdresser, the overpowering certainty of him as he’d walked in the door and found his way to her. And then she thinks of the phone call from Blue.
Your boyfriend. His aura is all wrong. It’s dark.
And she feels it, right there and then. Stark and obvious. Something askew. Something awry.
You’re not who you say you are, she suddenly thinks, you’re a fake.
55
Laurel’s mother is still alive when Laurel pops in to see her the next day on her way to work.
“Still here then?” she asks, pulling her chair closer to her mother’s.
Ruby rolls her eyes.
“You know it’s Christmas Day on Friday,” she says. “You can’t go and die before Christmas and ruin it for everyone. You do know that? If you were going to do it, you should have done it last week.”
Ruby chuckles and says, “Next week?”
“Yes,” says Laurel, smiling. “Next week is fine. It’s always a quiet time.”
She takes her mother’s hands and says, “We’re having a big Christmas Eve do. At Paul and Bonny’s. Hanna will be there. Jake. My new boyfriend. His daughter. I wish you could come.”
“No thank you,” says Ruby, and Laurel laughs.
“No,” she says. “I don’t blame you.”
“How is n-n-new b-boyfriend?”
The smile freezes on Laurel’s face. She doesn’t know how to answer the question so she smiles and says, “He’s wonderful. It’s all good.”
But as the words leave her mouth, she can feel the heavy lie of them.
Her mother feels it, too. “Good?” she repeats, concernedly.
“Yes,” she says. “Good.”
Her mother nods, just once.
“If you say so,” she says. “If you say so.”
Laurel calls Jake when she leaves her mother’s care home.
He picks up the call within two ringtones. “Mum,” he says, a note of concern in his voice.
“Everything’s fine,” she says. “Not an emergency. I just wanted to say hello.”
“I’m really sorry, Mum,” he starts immediately. “I’m really sorry about me and Blue and what we said to you the other day. It was out of order.”
“No, Jake, honestly. It’s fine. I’m sorry I overreacted. I think I was just so shocked to find myself in a relationship after so long I was a bit raw. Just wanted everything to be perfect. You know. And of course nothing’s perfect, is it?”
“No,” says Jake in a voice full of things he’d like to say but can’t. “No. That’s true.”
“Am I seeing you tomorrow?” she says. “At Bonny’s?”
“Yes,” he replies. “We’ll be there.”
“You know Floyd will be there too? Will that be a problem?”
“No,” he says, overly assured, she feels. “No. It will be fine.”
She takes a breath, ready to get to the point of her call. “Is Blue there?” she says. “I wondered if we could have a word?”
“Yeah,” says Jake. “Yeah. She’s here. You’re not going to . . . ?”
“No. I told you, Jake. Water under the bridge. I just want to ask her something.”
“OK.”
She hears him call out to Blue, who comes to the phone and says, “Hi, Laurel. How are you?”
“I’m good, thank you, Blue. I’m fine. How are you?”
“Oh, you know. Busy, busy. As always.”
There’s a pause and then Laurel says, “Listen, Blue, I wanted to apologize for the way I reacted last time we spoke. I think I may have been a little over the top.”
She can almost hear Blue shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, really. I’m sorry. And I just . . . I’ve been . . . I don’t know. I