‘George… Jess.’
‘Rob.’ George appeared unnecessarily curt as Rob Traynor, the man who’d sorted kit out for me to be able to join in with the hockey game at Upper Merton training session, joined us. Carole Moorhouse’s husband.
‘Jess, good to see you.’ Rob bent to kiss my cheek. ‘So, ready for training tomorrow night?’
‘I guess so.’ I was going to be positive. I wanted to do this. I might not want to do this gym lark that George was intending I should, but I hadn’t half enjoyed being back on the hockey pitch.
‘Oh, good!’ Both men spoke as one.
‘Come on, Jess, I’ll show you round properly and then buy you a coffee.’ George nodded in the man’s direction, turning his back on him.
The thought of a coffee and bun kept me going as George, obviously proud of his new gym, took me on a guided tour.
‘OK, you win.’ I felt a stirring of something like enthusiasm. How I was going to fit in visits to the gym as well as train for the hockey team once I was up at The White House every day, I wasn’t quite sure. But I was going to do it. I could come with Mum. We could do classes together and use the spa facilities.
‘Coffee?’ We’d settled in the corner of the little café area, the seats comfortable and welcoming. ‘A bun?’
‘Lov… No, no thanks.’ I was going to start as I meant to go on.
‘You know, Jess, you have such a lovely smile when you relax and… well,smile.’ George placed two cappuccinos on the table and immediately broke open the chocolate muffin he’d bought.
‘Bit personal that, isn’t it?’
‘You’re not very good at accepting compliments, are you?’ George bit into his muffin and chewed contemplatively, his brown eyes never shifting from my own.
‘Can’t say I’ve had many recently.’
‘Well, you are a bit scary,’ George said seriously.
I felt tears threaten. I didn’t want to be scary; I wanted to be open, welcoming. Loved.
‘I think you’ve had a bit of a bad time recently?’ George went on.
‘What are you now, my counsellor?’
‘There you go, always combative.’
When I didn’t know how to reply to that, George went on. ‘Lisa said.’
‘Whatdid Mum say?’ I bristled, hating the thought of my mum and all the Sattars discussing me.
‘How you’ve always been there for her. And for Robyn and Sorrel. That you’ve had to be a second mum to Sorrel when Lisa was ill. You’ve fostered kids, worked at that home…’
‘What is this?This Is Your Life?’ I scowled, and George laughed.
‘And then that tosser of a husband of yours…’
I felt myself bristle once more. It was all rightmecalling Dean out, but I hated it when anyone else did. He was still Lola’s dad, after all.
‘He behaved badly at Kamran’s supper do. Hands all over Farrah.’
‘And I didn’t?’ I smiled. ‘I seem to remember I drank so much I slid under the table.’
‘Well, with a husband like that, I’m not surprised you turned to drink.’
‘AndI seem to remember you weren’t totally sober yourself.’
‘I wasn’t in a good place.’
