‘What did he want?’
He pulls the blanket firmly around his shoulders. ‘Wanted to know your movements. What time you left, that kind of thing. He looked official, actually. I thought he was a policeman.’
A policeman? Why were the police looking for me? ‘Did he … did he say anything else?’
‘Nah. He stalked off when I wouldn’t tell him anything.’
I smile at him, overwhelmed by fondness for this man whom I’ve talked to every day for the last nine months but don’t really know. ‘Thank you.’
He grins. ‘Any time.’
‘So, what’s the big secret?’ I ask Jack, as we sit at a table in the café near the top of Park Street.
He fiddles with his paper napkin. ‘I’m leaving.’
I stare at him, speechless, the glass of elderflower cordial nearly slipping out of my hand. ‘But – but why?’
‘I’m going back to Brighton. Got a job on theArgus. I miss my home town, Jess. I’m sorry. And, also, it’s as a reporter.’
A reporter? I knew it. Has he been tipping off Harriet Hill? Would he do that? Undermine me? No. I can’t believe he would.
‘I’ve been earning extra cash selling contact details to the nationals,’ he adds, his cheeks flushed. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Jess.’
I shrug. ‘There’s no law against it.’
‘I thought it could be a way in, that’s all.’
‘But what about Finn? Will he move to Brighton with you?’
‘We’re over.’
Again, I’m reeling. ‘What? When?’
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been myself for the last few weeks. Finn, well, he turned out to be a knob.’ He smiles sadly.
I’ve always thought so but I’ve never admitted that to Jack. ‘In what way?’
He leans back in his chair and stretches his long legs out underneath the table. ‘Urgh. You name it. Controlling. Bullying. Possessive.’ He ticks them off on his fingers. ‘And then …’ He glances at me, almost shyly.
‘What?’
‘He started to get violent. It began with a slap across the face, then a punch to the thigh. But lately he’d just fly into these jealous rages. That night when we met up, I didn’t get mugged. It was Finn. He punched me because he was jealous. He said he noticed a …’ he adopts a silly French accent ‘…frissonbetween us. He was convinced something was going on.’
I can’t help but laugh, the idea is so ludicrous. ‘Uh … Hello, you’re gay!’
‘I know.’ He sighs. ‘But I’ve …’ he lowers his voice and glances around the café ‘… slept with women before.’
‘So he thought we were sleeping together? Oh, my God, Jack!’
‘I know.’ He stares down at his gourmet cheese and chutney sandwich. I’ve ordered the same yet neither of us has taken a bite yet. ‘The awful thing was, he hated mehaving any friends, male or female, because he was convinced I’d end up sleeping with them.’
I’m suddenly full of rage at the thought of Finn beating up my lovely friend. ‘What a bastard! You should report him, Jack. Seriously.’
He hangs his head. ‘I can’t.’
‘It’s wrong. He deserves to be prosecuted.’ I remember how subdued Jack had become, how he’d flinch if I touched him. I wonder how long it had been going on.
He looks shamefaced. ‘But it sounds ridiculous. I’m six foot five, taller than him. I’m –’
