‘Yo.’
‘Hi there, sorry to bother you so early,’ Kate starts, easing into the now-familiar patter. ‘I was calling about Marisa Grover.’
‘Ris? Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. Is she OK?’
‘Yes, she is, she is,’ Kate says. ‘She’s been living with me these past few months and she’s been taken slightly unwell and I wanted to reach out to her friends and family to let them know.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Are you a friend or …?’
‘Yeah, I’m a friend. We were really close until a few months ago. Probably around the time she moved in with you. But hey, that’s Marisa for you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She gets deep and then she gets out. Hang on a sec, will you?’ Jas goes to turn down music playing in the background. ‘That’s better. Wait, I thought she moved in with that guy she was dating? Was it a house-share or something? I thought they got their own place?’
Kate stays very still, as if any movement will disrupt the flow of what Jas is saying.
‘What was his name? It began with a J – I remember because, you know, mine does too so yeah, I remembered that.Jake, that was it!’
‘She did move in with Jake,’ Kate says.
‘Is it?’
‘But she wasn’t dating Jake. I’m Jake’s girlfriend. Marisa was our surrogate. That’s why she came to live with us. She’s carrying our baby.’
Jas goes quiet.
‘I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’d really like to talk to you properly if I could. You see, something’s happened and it would be helpful to know something of Marisa’s recent medical history … her mental health, I mean.’
On the other end of the line, Kate can hear the woman give a low whistle.
‘What did you say your name was?’
‘I’m Kate.’
‘OK, Kate. I’ll meet you. In a public place because, let’s be real, I don’t know who you are or if you are who you say you are, but if this is kosher then, yeah, there is some stuff you should probably know about Marisa.’
‘I’ll bring documentation,’ Kate says. ‘So that you know I’m telling the truth. You can choose where we meet. I’ll come wherever.’
‘Thanks. Appreciate that.’
‘No, honestly, I appreciate you doing this. It will be really good to talk.’
Jas laughs.
‘Man, you don’t know what I’m going to tell you yet!’
‘I’m ready,’ Kate says, and she means it.
They arrange to meet in a cafe near Finsbury Park tube in two hours’ time.
The cafe is an old-fashioned greasy spoon. There is a man behind a glass-screened counter, wearing a striped apron tied loosely across his stomach. He greets her cheerily in an Italian accent so pronounced that it sounds fake. She is his only customer, she notices.
‘I’ll have a cappuccino, thanks.’
Normally she’d have a strong black espresso but this morning she feels the need for something more comforting and frothy.
