I glance at my watch. ‘Sure. What shall I tell Ted? Can you come with me to Margot’s or shall I say you’ve rung in sick?’
‘No. It’s fine. I’m fine. Just …’ He sighs impatiently. ‘Please, I’d rather meet you outside. Okay?’
I put the phone down, puzzled. Why’s Jack being so evasive? And grumpy. He’s usually so good-natured.
I gather up my things and call to Ted that I’m off to see Margot and meeting Jack outside. Then I hurry off before he can reply.
Outside Jack is smoking and talking to Stan, who’shuddled up in the doorway beneath a blanket. He’s drinking a takeaway coffee that I suspect Jack has bought him. Stan takes his filthy cap off to me, like he does every time I see him, and grins toothlessly. He smells of stale lager. I smile back and I’m about to indulge in a bit of banter, which Stan always enjoys, when I notice Jack properly and freeze. He’s sporting the ugliest black eye I’ve ever seen. It’s so puffy and swollen that he can hardly open it. He also has a cut lip. Instantly tears spring to my eyes at the thought of anyone doing this to him.
I rush towards him. ‘What happened? Oh, Jack …’ I put my hand to his lip. ‘Who did this to you?’
He covers my hand with his. ‘I was mugged. Last night. Some fucker tried to take my camera but I fought them off – not before they gave me this, though.’ He takes his hand away to point to his face.
I frown. ‘But you were with Finn last night.’
Jack steers me away from Stan. ‘Let’s walk and talk or we’ll be late. Where’s your car?’
‘At my place.’
‘Come on, then. We’d better be quick.’
He gives the rest of his cigarette to Stan, saying it hurts his cut lip to smoke it, and we walk down Park Street, trying not to notice the occasional stare directed at Jack.
‘Where was Finn when this happened?’ I ask, as we cross the centre and head towards the Welsh Back.
He hangs his head. ‘We had a row.’
I clench my fists in anger. Bloody Finn. ‘What about?’
‘Oh, nothing, really. It just escalated and he walked off in a huff. Got the bus home and left me to sit in the pubby myself. So I had another drink and left. But then I encountered this chancer. Thought he could take me on. But he underestimated me.’
‘Jack!’ I cry, exasperated. ‘You’ve been beaten up.’
He tries to smile but with his swollen lip it’s more of a grimace. ‘You should see the other guy.’
Margot is fussing around Jack when we arrive, asking if he’d like some ice for his eye. It reminds me of what she used to be like, when Heather and I were friends, always so motherly. Caring. Making sure everybody was okay. I always thought Heather and Flora were so lucky to have her. Even then I could tell she was different from my mum. And it’s not as if my mum didn’t care. She loved me –loves me– I know that. It’s just that she was preoccupied and busy a lot of the time, working as a secretary at the one and only legal firm in the high street. At weekends and in the evenings she was either fitting in the chores she hadn’t managed to do during the week or sorting out my grandmother, who was in a care home in Clevedon, or going on dates. She was happy that I was out of her hair for a few hours.Anything for a quiet life.That was her motto. Margot was just morepresent, I suppose. But she had her brother Leo around to help. And she worked from home.
I wonder who’s around for Margot now that Heather is in a coma. It doesn’t look like Adam is much company, from the little I’ve seen of him. The words ‘gruff’ and ‘unsympathetic’ spring to mind. And I heard Leo moved away not long after Flora disappeared. Even then I couldn’t help overhearing the rumour that he must have had something to do with it, and the gossip surroundinghis ‘penchant for young girls’ because one of his old girlfriends had been much younger than him. I remember her, Hayley, tall and slim with long, wheat-coloured hair.
Margot ushers us into the living room. It hasn’t changed much: still the same old sofas (although with different throws covering them), the old-fashioned heavy walnut furniture and the cosy open fireplace. In the corner, by the French windows, there is a box of toys that must belong to Heather’s little boy. I still find it hard to believe that she’s a wife and mother. I can’t imagine ever being either.
Jack and I sit side by side on the sofa while Margot bustles out of the room again. Five minutes later she’s back with a bag of frozen peas that she hands to Jack. ‘For the eye,’ she says. ‘Hold it there for a good five to ten minutes to reduce the swelling. That’s it. Now, I’ll go and fetch some tea.’
She leaves the room again and Jack turns to me. He’s moved the bag of peas from his left eye to his swollen lip. ‘She seems really nice,’ he says, his voice muffled by the bag.
‘She is. She’s thawed a bit since I first called round. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of her, though. She’s …’
I fall silent as Margot returns, carrying a tray and setting it down on the coffee table. She pours us both tea and leaves us to add milk as she settles herself in one of the armchairs. She seems chirpier today and I wonder if she’s had news about Heather.
‘How is Heather?’ I ask, stirring my tea. ‘Is there any change?’
‘No. But she’s stable. The doctors say there’s no reason why she should still be in a coma. Apparently it’s her body’s way of resting. There is no longer any swelling or bleeding on the brain. So it’s good news.’ She smiles, tucking her slippered feet underneath her. For once she’s not wearing jodhpurs but a pair of jeggings and a long jumper with a horse on the front. ‘I’m hopeful.’
‘I’m so pleased. I’d …’ I hesitate, trying not to look at Jack. ‘I’d love to see her again. When she wakes up. That is, if she’d like to see me.’
There’s so much I wish I could say to her. To apologize for.
Margot’s expression is steadfast and I’m worried I’ve gone too far, asked for too much. But, to my surprise, she nods. ‘I think she might like that. Yes.’
