today?’
‘She’s coming back in a few days, I think.’ I sip the red wine. It tastes expensive, and it’s the kind that goes down way too easily, especially after the week I’ve had. I sit back and put my feet up on the coffee table.
‘Shame she’s not here for this,’ said Becky, as Emma comes down the stairs. I can see her through the open door of the sitting room. She’s dressed for a lazy evening in a pair of cut-off jeans and a fluffy grey cardigan over a tiny white vest top. She pauses for a moment.
‘This banister is seriously wobbly,’ she says.
‘The whole place is crumbling,’ says Becky. ‘Anyone any good at DIY?’
‘I’ll have a look at it tomorrow,’ Rob says.
‘With your foot?’ Becky laughs.
‘With my eyes.’
‘I mean, should you be doing house repairs in your state?’
He chuckles. ‘I know what you meant. I promise, I’ll be safe.’
‘Alex, want a top-up?’ Becky pours more wine into my glass and hands one to Emma.
‘It’s Jess’s birthday next Saturday. We should do something to cheer her up.’ Becky curls up on the sofa beside Emma and Rob.
‘Good thinking. Assuming she’s free, of course,’ I say.
I don’t mention our plans to get together for a walk sometime soon. I haven’t heard from her since yesterday, actually, which is weird. She’s normally messaging stupid jokes or sharing things she’s seen that she knows will make me laugh, although now James is on the scene that’s tailed off a bit, obviously.
‘I’m out of the loop a bit here. Is Jess okay? What’s been going on?’ Emma looks at Becky.
‘Oh her gran’s been sick, and she’s been away. Didn’t you notice?’
Emma shakes her head. ‘I’ve been so busy with work, I thought we just hadn’t crossed paths for a bit.’
It’s weird how we can all scatter for days – weeks even – without really seeing much of each other. I watch Rob chatting to Becky about how to make the perfect chilli, arguing over recipes online, debating about whether dark chocolate is the perfect addition or an abomination. Emma catches my eye and raises her eyebrows heavenward.
We watch a crappy Netflix thriller and drink more wine. I nip out to get some snacks, realising halfway down Albany Road on my way to the corner shop that it definitely feels like winter’s coming early, and a T-shirt and joggers is not enough to keep me warm. By the time I get back home my fingers and toes are like ice and the sitting room’s empty.
‘The secret’s in the chopping.’ Rob’s preparing a very late-night dish of chilli-spiked vegetables and shredded beef. Becky’s standing beside him, measuring out rice into a jug and boiling the kettle.
‘They’re doing competitive cooking again,’ says Emma, passing me the wine.
We watch and wait, drinking and chatting. They work well together, despite the constant bantering half-arguments, and at quarter to midnight – all of us pretty much completely pissed – we’re sitting down to dinner in the cosy, dilapidated kitchen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Jess
7th October, Bournemouth
It’s midnight. James is back in London, and I’m staying a bit longer, just because of the operation, and because I want to know Nanna Beth’s okay before I leave. The people have been lovely at work – I think because they know she’s like a mum to me. I said I’d take the time off unpaid, but got an email back telling me not to be so silly. I’ll just have to work twice as hard when I get back. Meanwhile, the doctor and the nurses all keep telling us she’ll be fine, and that she’s doing well, but it doesn’t seem to matter how many times I hear it.
I want to text Alex for reassurance, have him tell me she’s going to be okay, and that I’m worrying about nothing. I can’t take much more time off work. You don’t get compassionate leave for grandparents, even if they’re the ones who brought you up. I lie staring at the ceiling in Mum’s flat, watching the hours go by on the clock, which ticks loudly on the mantelpiece, and wonder if I’ll ever fall asleep.
Alex
7th October, London
‘Morning.’
My eyes, which have been slowly and cautiously opening in the excruciatingly bright daylight, pop open in shock at the sound of a voice in my ear.
I close them again and screw my face up, because I think maybe I imagined it. But then I open them, and nope, there’s a face beside mine on the pillow. And this isn’t my pillow.