I take the keys out of my pocket and throw them on the table. “Let’s see your cards.”
A five and a six, then a seven, an eight and a nine on the table. He has a straight, just a lousy straight.
I stand up, tossing my cards on the table. “Full house,” and I get the keys back, feeling victorious.
Just then I see Jemma, who’s limping near the door. Her eyes are swollen, it’s clear that she’s been crying. “Can we go home?”
“Yes,” I walk towards her and pick her up, and the ice falls to the floor. “Let’s go home.”
I give Willoughby one last look before leaving. “Keep the money.”
*
Jemma looks pretty shaken. I can see her from the corner of my eye in the passenger seat next to me; she’s sitting strangely properly, almost stiff, looking down and sniffling occasionally.
While a part of me has already dismissed the whole thing, thinking that she’s probably suffering because of her fall, another part feels that Willoughby had something to do with it, but I don’t feel like asking. I’m quite sure I wouldn’t like her answer.
All I can manage to say, in a rather cold tone, is: “Hold the ice on your knee, or it won’t help relieve the pain.”
She does it, without complaint.
After a few minutes of silence, she asks me a question that almost upsets me. “Are you mad at me?”
Besides, her subdued tone astounds me, so much so that I find myself almost comforting her. “No. For once, I’m not mad at you.”
“I shouldn’t have let myself get left behind. And I should have worn the right clothes, like everyone else. If I hadn’t had these stupid boots on, I wouldn’t have fallen off.”
“You’re a skilled horsewoman, you can ride with any boots.” After a few moments of silence, she surprises me with yet another question. “Why don’t you and Carter like each other?”
“Saying we don’t like each other is a euphemism. I can hardly stay in the same room with him. I think it’s time to abandon my reticence and tell you about our past, so you can understand what kind of person we’re talking about once and for all.” I notice that she’s listening to what I say, she’s no longer looking out of the window and her head is turned towards me. I resume. “The two of us were friends as kids, we’re talking about our time at Eton. He was a nice rogue, irresistibly smart; Willoughby, Harring and I formed a good trio. Later on, his attitude towards me inexplicably changed. Every time I dated a girl, he would put on a scene to her, like: ‘I’m Parker’s best friend and I shouldn’t do this, but you’re a special girl and you deserve to know the truth: Ashford cheated on you during the summer/Easter/Christmas holidays. He’s dating another girl.” Then he tricked them by playing the shoulder to cry on with bloody Dire Straits in the background. He would put on theRomeo & Julietrecord andbam, they slept with him. He played this nice game six times. At first, I didn’t understand why all my girlfriends suddenly disappeared and stopped speaking to me, then Harring caught him in the act with Liza, my last girlfriend, and everything made sense.
After that, we went our separate ways, until I found him in my division in the army in Kabul.
He had the task of checking our vehicle before we departed on a mission, we were left on foot because he hadn’t refuelled. We were stuck in that armoured vehicle for a whole day, but then, at night, I crawled like a worm to our base camp and went back to rescue the team with another vehicle. Well, he would have remained in the desert, if it had been my decision.”
“I could never have imagined it,” she murmurs.
“I should have told you earlier.”
“I wouldn’t have listened to you,” she admits. She wipes away a tear with the back of her hand.
There’s something, but she won’t tell me, and I won’t ask. “Does your knee hurt you very much?”
She nods. “Yes, very much.”
35
Jemma’s Version
Back at Denby, I’m being looked after like a child by the servants who see I’m hurt.
They think I cry for the pain and my swollen knee confirms that.
Yet, all I can think of is that arsehole, Carter, and all the horrible things I heard him say about me.
When Ashford told me all those stories about Carter, I realised how stupid I was. I didn’t have the courage to tell him what really happened, and I’m not sure he bought the lie that I was just crying because of the pain.
Carter! I’m disgusted with myself for even considering falling in love with him. Prince Charming, my arse!
