“It’s only because you women are hard to understand,” Bill objects.
“And speaking of questions at the wrong time.” DeNiro looks at all the women at the table, including me. “That thing you love to ask. ‘What are you thinking?’ has to be the worst question on God’s Earth.”
“Bloody Hell, yes.” Gethin lifts his arms up as if begging God for help. “Just when you’re coming down from the whole business.”
I get up to refill the sandwich platter and notice the end of the table where the teenagers sit. They are watching and listening avidly. Shit! They’re probably too young for the X-rated conversation.
Raff clears his throat. “How did we get here from Nelson Mandella and Yasser Arafat?”
The whole table cracks up laughing.
Yes, the afternoon has been a wonderful success. Until they come to board the minibus and things take a bad turn.
Chapter Twenty
7pm. Kendric House
Jack refuses to leave. Everyone’s already in the minibus and waiting for him. But his face crumples into pure misery. “I want to stay. Please don’t make me go back there.” He begs.
“Come, Jack,” Raff urges gently. “I’ll help you up and when we get home, I’ll help you to your room. Don’t you want your own bed?”
Jack grabs my hand in both of his. “Can’t I stay here? I don’t need a room. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
It breaks my heart. “Oh, Jack, I would welcome you with all my heart. But it’s not my house. I am a guest here and the owners are away. I can’t even ask them.”
“Come on, now. It’ll be alright.” Raff puts a hand under Jack’s elbow to help him off the chair. It only makes Jack’s grip on my own hand more urgent.
“I don’t want to go there. I like you. I want to stay with you.”
His face, so animated and happy earlier, is now wet with tears. Nothing, not even a toothache, is as painful as watching aman who once worked at the United Nations, gave instructions to Fidel Castro, now crying like a frightened little boy. How bad is The Glyn if he is this desperate not to go back?
“Jack?” I slip down to one knee in front of him. “I promise as soon as Evan and Haneen come back – they are the owners – I will ask them if we can give you a room here. I’ll even furnish it myself.”
“You don’t have to, I have money. I’m paying that place three thousand a month. You can have it. I can pay rent.”
He’s still holding my hand.
Raff looks around towards the entrance. All the others in the minibus must be getting cold, eager to get home. Then he turns back to us and leans down towards me. “Why don’t you come with us?” he asks in a quiet voice. “You can see him to his room and stay until he is in bed.”
I ask Jack. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“Yes,” he says faintly, but his eyes beg me.
“I can drive you back after,” Raff assures me.
Behind us, the dining table is full of dirty plates and cups, and there’s a mountain of washing up in the kitchen.
Meredith, who’s been hovering nearby guesses my worry. “You go. I’ll clean up. Ricky will help me.”
So, we go. Jack leaning on his walking frame, my hand on his arm so he knows I’m with him. Raff was right; even if my presence doesn’t cheer Jack up, it seems to help reassure him. I even wait in his room. My face turned to the window while the nurse undresses and helps him into his pyjamas and into bed.
Then I sit beside him and offer to read to him from one of the books by his bedside, a spy novel by Len Dayton. The choice surprises me because it’s bound to be a complex story.
“I’m not senile,” he says from his pillow. “Nothing wrong with my mind. I just feel like…” He sighs. “Like a boy on his first day at a new school and it’s full of strangers. It takes its toll after a while, having no friends.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just start to read, and he soon starts to drift off. Yet, when I get up to leave, he reminds me, “Don’t forget to speak to the owners about me. Tell them I can pay rent.”
“I won’t forget. It might take a little while to clean and decorate the room so we might have to be a little patient.”
