‘I’m glad,’ he said, unrolling some kitchen towel for her to press against her hand.
‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘In the short term, see Olivia’s party plans to fruition, I suppose. Then take a good hard look at trying to get this place back on track for the long term. Somehow.’ He rifled through cupboards until he found a first-aid kit and between them, they found a suitable plaster.
‘I never wanted any of this. I don’t even want to be here,’ he said. The comment was unguarded, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed if Jess’s expression was anything to go by.
She said nothing until the wound was covered, pulling more paper towel from the rack, then bending to rub away the dots of blood remaining on the floor. Finally, she asked the million-dollar question.
‘Why don’t you want to be here?’
Sebastian followed her as she retraced her steps into the kitchen, picking up fallen cutlery as she mopped the last few scarlet drips.
‘I was in London because I landed a job with the Philharmonic.’
‘Playing the piano?’
‘Violin, actually. On the verge of becoming first violin; I would’ve got to do some solo work. It was something I’ve always wanted. I know it’s a cliché to say it was my dream, but it really was.’
‘Oh. That’s some terrible timing.’
‘Hmm. Almost like my father died on purpose. No, that’s not fair. I suppose I always knew I’d be expected to come back, I just thought I’d have longer.’ Sebastian sighed. ‘And there’s the guilt, too, that I haven’t been here. That maybe things would have turned out differently if Ihadstayed.’
‘Couldn’t you have pursued your musical dreams in Scotland?’ she asked.
Sebastian frowned. ‘It was more complicated than that.’
Jess nodded, pursing her lips as she watched his expression. He wondered if she saw the closing down of his emotions at the thought of what happened with Catriona, wondered if it was visible on his features. Jess certainly noticed something had changed.
‘You’d probably be better off talking to people you know,’ she said.
‘Maybe.’
‘Your friends, for example,’ she said. ‘I’m sure the Matthews, or Bendy or Stiffs or Ounce would be able to offer you advice.’ The realisation that she’d been eavesdropping, and that she’d just given the game away, took a few moments to dawn in her expression. She looked sheepish, like a puppy caught with a slipper in its jaws.
‘Who?’ he said.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to listen in.’
Her cheeks bloomed with colour, and he felt bad for making her squirm. In reality, he should be annoyed by her wilful misinterpretation of the party guests’ names, but somehow the levity was welcome. He didn’t let on, maintaining his poker face as she pressed her lips together to smother the laugh he could tell she was having difficulty containing, her gaze never leaving his as she waited to see how he would react. The edge of her lip crept between her teeth as she weighed up her options, and he took the beginnings of a frown clouding her open expression as enough punishment inflicted.
‘His name is Gram, not Ounce. Short for Graham.’ Sebastian felt his lips quivering with the effort of not smiling. The nicknames of some of the people he’d grown up alongside were ridiculous; he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed up until now. ‘And Stiffs? Really? Mind you, thinking about it, Hops might quite enjoy that as his moniker. He always was very easily excited.’
Jess covered her mouth with her hand, pressing hard as she searched his expression. He grinned and was rewarded with a choking sound as she finally gave in to her giggle. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I just … This is all so far outside my life experience. It’s like something out of a P. G. Wodehouse novel. But, regardless of their names, surely you want to talk to your friends, people who know you and your situation far better than I do?’
Sebastian nodded. She’d hit the nail on the head, even though it wasn’t in the way she thought. ‘That’s the problem, Jess. None of those people really know me any longer. I’m not sure they ever did. We were forced together when we were growing up. And I was at school with Hops, so there is that. But when I moved away, I left them all behind. And they weren’t bothered that I had, if that makes sense. It was as though we’d breathed a collective sigh of relief. They aren’t really like me – they’re far more like Olivia. And they all fit the mould of this kind of a life much better than I do. So, in answer to your question, no I don’t want to talk to my friends. And while I don’t know what to do for the best, there’s nobody here whose judgement I’d trust, either.’
‘What about your London friends?’
‘I suppose.’
He didn’t expand; he wasn’t sure how to explain the guilt he felt, because he’d left them all in the lurch, too, with his abrupt departure in the run-up to the busy Christmas period.
‘Do you think you can get this place back onto its feet, though?’ she asked.
‘I genuinely don’t know.’
Jess pulled in a deep breath. ‘If not, well – I mean, you said it yourself.’
