Grown Ups - Marian Keyes Page 0,183

she whispered.

He turned towards her and his eyes filled with tears.

Pulling back Vinnie’s duvet, she got in, pushing herself into his warmth. She had never loved him more and her calm acceptance began to shatter.

‘It’s the best thing I can do for you.’ He pulled her tight against him. ‘I can’t be your warden. Only you can do this for yourself.’

‘Honey, I didn’t actually do the bingeing and –’

‘You would have if Nell and Ferdia hadn’t been there.’

‘… I could have changed my mind at the last minute?’

He shook his head.

He was probably right. ‘Ed, I’m sorry … So much. For all the damage …’

‘You couldn’t help it. You’re an addict. You weren’t able to accept help.’

‘Maybe I will now.’

‘The kids,’ he said. ‘Can we try and keep things as normal as possible?’

‘Of course. What will we tell them?’

‘The truth. Although that might be a hard one for them: you’re sick, so in order to help you, I’m leaving.’ A fresh spasm of weeping shook him.

‘We can’t tell them a lie, like we’ve drifted apart. Can we tell them the facts? They might get it.’ She took a breath. ‘Ed, is this really happening?’

‘Don’t.’ His voice was thick. ‘It’s all so sad. When should we tell them?’

‘Now? We could bring them home and tell them now.’

‘Okay. And then I’ll have to go.’

Nell steeled herself to ring Jessie. There was every chance she wouldn’t answer – but she did.

‘Jessie.’ Nell raced through the words in case Jessie hung up. ‘I’m very sorry about me and Ferdia. Nothing much happened, if that’s of any help. You’ve been so kind, taken me into your family, and I’ve embarrassed you, caused mayhem and I’m just, like, really sorry for all the crap.’

‘I didn’t see it coming.’ Jessie sounded nothing like her usual dynamic self. ‘I don’t know what to feel. So much happened last night, and this is only one thing I’m trying to … Look, you’re both adults, you can do what you like. But he’s my son, you’re my sister-in-law. Although I’m guessing not for much longer?’

‘… I don’t think so.’

‘We were all mad about you,’ Jessie said. ‘Everything’s gone to shit and it’s … I’m finding it very hard. I have to go. Take care, good luck.’

‘Thank you. You too.’ Nell hung up. That had been brutal. But it could have been much, much worse.

Moments later, a text came from Liam: Lawyer up, bitch

She was shook. But he was just posturing. She hadn’t a penny, neither had he: there was nothing to tussle over. She sat and waited for her insides to stop shaking.

‘Liam says I can stay with him.’ Johnny was hoping that now, surely now, Jessie would change her mind.

‘’Kay.’ She carried on emptying the dishwasher.

‘And when would you like me to leave?’

‘Now.’

‘Right now?’ Two fifteen on a Saturday afternoon?

‘Yes.’ She suddenly became irritable. ‘Right now. When the fuck else? Next effing spring? Go!’

He deliberately packed almost nothing, so that he had plenty of reasons to keep returning home, then drove to Liam’s.

‘How are you?’ he asked Liam.

Liam shrugged.

‘You and Nell …?’

Extravagantly, Liam rolled his eyes.

‘It’s over?’ Johnny asked.

‘Of fucking course it’s fucking over! I wouldn’t touch that tramp ever again!’

‘And you and Robyn?’

Liam smirked. ‘Me and Robyn.’

‘… You don’t think she’s a bit young for you?’

‘If you want to stay here, you’d better keep those thoughts to yourself.’

‘Okay. Which room can I have?’

‘Either of them.’

Johnny looked in at Violet’s bedroom. Very pink. Then Lenore’s. Even more pink. ‘I’ll take Violet’s,’ he called to Liam. ‘Just unpacking my stuff.’

‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ Liam replied. ‘This is only very temporary.’

Moving a family of velvet pigs out of the way, Johnny put his various chargers on the bevelled little dressing table. He was still in a state of shock. It was barely more than twenty-four hours since he’d buzzed Izzy Kinsella into his apartment building and his life had collapsed.

At the time, his hopes were once again being slowly, painfully hoisted but he was no longer entirely convinced that persisting with Izzy would be worth it. He couldn’t get past the fact that none of them, not even Izzy, had bothered telling him when Michael had gone into hospital. That said, it was an urgent, stressful time for them. And Izzy had rung as soon as the news was promising.

But Ellen hadn’t called. Michael, on his sickbed, obviously hadn’t summoned Keeva and whispered a hoarse I want to see Johnny.

He’d kept bumping against painful pockets of probability: I don’t matter to

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