‘Oh, is he?’ Robyn pulled a face. ‘I feel really torn. The thing is, I rather like him now.’
‘Do you? Why?’
‘He’s actually really interesting to talk to. You know, a bit like me: we both thought we’d got where we wanted to be – him with his tennis and me in the theatre – but then…’
‘But then?’ I took my eyes momentarily from the brunch laid out for us on the huge kitchen island, my mouth salivating. I realised I’d not eaten a great deal the past few days, even at my own Sunday lunch. Mind you, I was jolly hungry now; felt I could devour everything in front of me.
‘…but then,’ Robyn went on, ‘then I remember he’s behind the plans to knock down St Mede’s. A bit like fraternising with the enemy when he’s in school and I end up chatting to him. The rest of the staff seem to think I’m his mate and go off into a huddle over the custard creams, talking about me in the staff room.’ Robyn laughed and then lowered her voice. ‘You sure about having Joel to stay, Jess? I feel we’ve held a gun to your head.’
‘Well, yes, you have.’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘You lot all bugger off somewhere lovely leaving me with Dean next door and a drug-pusher in my box room. As well as an eleven-year-old who thinks she’s already fourteen. So, where’s Fabian this morning?’
‘Gone to see his sister in Harrogate. Oh, wow, what a spread. D’you eat like this every morning, Mum, now that you’re living up here? And who’s prepared all this?’
Mum smiled. ‘Kamran’s the foodie round here. Well, he and George – they both put together this little spread. Come on, fill your plates.’
‘George did…?’ I glanced across at George Sattar, who was chatting to Lola, making her laugh at something. The bloody man was popping up everywhere I went, looking me up and down, commenting on something or other. Aware not only that I’d lost quite a bit of weight, but also that George was at the table and I didn’t want any comments from him if I piled my plate with the carbs I’d normally go for, I hesitated before diving in.
‘Eggs are fabulous, Jess-i-ca,’ George called down the table, elongating each syllable of my name. ‘Protein to set you up for those gym sessions and hockey on Thursday?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said, placing one of the delicious-looking eggs royale on a plate, my mouth watering at the smoked salmon and silky hollandaise atop the golden-yolked poached egg.
‘One of my own eggs,’ George said, nodding at my plate as he piled a fragrant-scented kedgeree onto his own.
‘Really?’ I muttered. ‘You’ll be in the papers – first man ever to ovulate.’ Oh God, what was the matter with me? That was such a crass thing to come out with. ‘I didn’t realise Frozen were into fresh produce now?’ I amended politely.
‘No, no.’ George laughed. ‘My girls are responsible for these. Kamran lets me put them up, here in his garden.’
I stared. Was George Sattar into trafficking women? And Kamran – and obviously now Mum – were going along with it? ‘Oh,’ I said, understanding. ‘You keep chickens?You? You keep chickens?’ George Sattar was the last person on this planet I’d have suspected of keeping hens. Couldn’t imagine him for one minute out there, foraging for eggs. Too busy developing Frozen’sassetsas well as not wanting to get chicken shit on his pinstriped suits and shiny black brogues.
‘Me!And bees,’ George added, grinning, obviously enjoying my dropped jaw as he nodded towards the golden honeycomb dripping into a dish. ‘The other people in my apartment block would soon be complaining and trying to get me out if I had my girls and the bees out on the balcony down there.’
I was saved from having to come up with a response to this by Sorrel walking almost shyly to the door where Joel and Andy stood standing, both slightly embarrassed, I could tell, at coming into what was, after all, a family gathering.
Kamran immediately came forward, ushering the pair in, taking jackets, offering coffee, indicating they should take a plate and eat.
Joel, in a navy sweatshirt and chinos, his hair neatly braided into cornrows, left Andy’s side, making his way towards Sorrel, more interested in making his goodbyes than the refreshments on offer. Oh, but he was such a good-looking boy. I understood completely what my little sister saw in him and how hard it was going to be for Sorrel to leave him. Oh, for heaven’s sake, they’re only sixteen, I tutted to myself, forgetting how I’d fallen so in love with Dean when I was the same age.
‘Andy?’ Mum was saying. ‘It is Andy, isn’t it? Do come and have something to eat. It’s quite a journey from Castleford and back.’
‘Well, I don’t have to go all the way back there – I’m based in Midhope – and I’ve already eaten, thank you. I just need a couple of words with Jessica…’ He broke off as Joel and Sorrel came back into the kitchen.
‘Ten minutes, sweetheart,’ Kamran was saying, and I realised I loved the way this man had taken on my little sister, as well as my mum. ‘We need to get going soon.’
Both Joel and Sorrel were looking subdued, and for a minute I wondered if Sorrel was going to say she was staying – she wasn’t going off to any new school in London. She wanted to stay here with Joel.
But Joel had turned. Was staring at the man standing at the table who was chatting to Robyn. Staring at George Sattar with a look on his face I wasn’t quite able to decipher.
22
ROBYN
‘It’s no good, Miss. I told you. I can’t act or sing.’ Joel Sinclair sat on the floor underneath the one window in St Mede’s drama studio, head in his hands. ‘I’ve broken my side of the bargain – I’ll have to leave Jess’s house.’
‘Yes, you can, and no, you won’t. And when we’re not in school, for heaven’s sake, call me Robyn.’
‘Wearein school.’ Joel moved his head slightly, looking up at her. ‘This, if you didn’t realise it, is a school. Dump that it is.’
‘Oi, don’t get cocky.’ Robyn grinned down at him. ‘Joel, if I thought you weren’t up to it, if I thought you didn’t have the potential – the ability – to get up on that school stage and be Danny Zuko, then I’d be tearing down the posters and giving it all up as a bad job.’
