Jo points the way, and takes Lucy’s bag from her, storing it behind the counter. She knows she is beaming at Lando – a complete contrast to his expression.
‘Sorry Jo, Sacha’s got a stomach bug and so Ferdy’s had to come in with me. I don’t like to have him in the shop … needles … health and safety …’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Lando …’ Jo starts. She wants to help but she only has a short time with Lucy – just the one night – and is planning on shutting the shop early.
‘… Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t going to ask you to look after him … Ferdy! Will you stop pulling! We’ll go there in a minute … No, Eric has said he can hang out with him. I just wondered if you’ve got any colouring stuff, pads of paper, that sort of thing?’
‘Of course!’ Jo exclaims. She does a quick tour of the shelves, selecting coloured paper, crayons and gel pens. She then rummages in the box of old stock and pulls out a carbon receipt book and a stamp with an accompanying pad of ink. She puts them all in a brown paper bag and presents this interesting bundle to Ferdy, who momentarily stops struggling. He looks at the bag, half doubtful, half hopeful. ‘Is that for me?’
‘It certainly is. All yours,’ she says, handing it to him.
For an instant she feels her uncle at her side. The sensation is so strong that she turns around, but all she sees is the noticeboard, now three-quarters full of her precious magpie collection.
‘Noko,’ Ferdy says, taking it from her.
‘Thanks, Jo,’ his father adds, ‘how much do I owe you?’
‘No, it’s a gift,’ Jo insists.
‘Really? Thank you so much.’
‘Hope you have a good day,’ she calls after Ferdy as they head for the door.
Lucy is soon back carrying two mugs of tea; she hitches herself onto one of the stools in front of the counter, resting her feet on the rung of the other. Now it is just the two of them, Jo senses a nervousness in Lucy that echoes within herself.
‘So, was that the tattoo artist, or the optician?’ Lucy asks, her voice sounding light and overly breezy.
‘That’s Lando the tattoo artist. Eric the Viking is the optician,’ Jo explains, knowing her tone is a replica of Lucy’s.
‘The Viking who is doing a spot of child-minding. Gotta love a man who likes kids. So, when do I get to see the Viking?’ Lucy sips her tea, starting to sound more like herself.
For once Jo doesn’t want to think about Eric; she has so much she wants to say to Lucy.
Before she has a chance to start, Lucypulls back slightly on her stool, and looks Jo up and down. ‘Are those my dungarees?!’
‘Ah, yes. Should have said. You left them at my cottage and I brought them with me …’ Jo isn’t sure how to finish.
But Lucy just gives a small grunt and a smile. Finally she says, ‘They suit you.’
‘I’ll give them back to you, you know, once the baby comes,’ Jo assures her, for the first time properly considering Lucy’s bulging belly. Has she been avoiding looking at it?
Her best friend strokes the side of her bump. ‘No, that’s all right. You should keep them.’ There is a pause and Lucy adds, ‘I’d really like you to have them.’
Jo slips down from her stool and goes to the door, turning the sign to ‘Closed’. Whatever is coming next is too important to be interrupted.
Before she is even back at the counter, she has rushed into speech, the words tumbling out of her, ‘I’m so sorry, Luce. I’ve been … I don’t even … I can’t bear to think about it all. I do know I’ve been a useless friend and you deservesomuch better. I really thought I was making time for you when you came home, but now when I look back there were so many times I should have been there and wasn’t.’ She is standing in front of her friend, staring intently at her, trying to read the expression on her downturned face. ‘You’ve never let me down, Luce,ever. But I got used to always being with James, doing what he wanted, and, you know, with all his friends it felt like I was being part of the latest thing and, I thought, sort of cool—’
‘It wasn’t,’ Lucy interrupts, looking up, ‘it was twattish.’
Jo can feel the humour twisted in with the hurt, and she breathes out a little. ‘I did think I was trying.’ Jo wants so hard to explain, ‘I knew you didn’t like him. But I really did, Luce – he really mattered to me. I thought I loved him. Now when I think about him, I don’t know why I fell for him. I can’t explain it … but back then … I just …’ Jo shakes her head. What was it? Chemistry, infatuation; some need in her? She knows she had labelled it as ‘love’. Malcolm’s words come back to her:He may have been your lover, Joanne, but he was never your friend.
Jo looks at the woman in front of her and cannot believe she weighed friendship so lightly. When it came to loving a man (a man she thought she wanted to have a baby with), how could she believe there could be love when there was no friendship?
Lucy has gone back to staring into her tea; she looks up now. ‘Jo, I know I didn’t always make it easy. I know I speak before I think sometimes.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘I could cope with not really liking him. We all know some fuckwit people.’ Jo wonders if she is thinking of her mother. ‘But I didn’t want you to “make time” for me. How do you think that made me feel? It shouldn’t be like that. I wassolooking forward to being back with you.’ She says more softly, her brows furrowed, ‘It never used to be like that.’
‘I know. I’m so sorry, Luce,’ is all she can whisper.
Lucy sighs. ‘Look, I do get it. I really do. Things move on. You were stuck. And you weren’t that shit a friend. Really. And you were great when Iwas in Amsterdam. Brilliant, in fact. It’s just, you were different when I got back. And I missed you … us.’ She grins sheepishly at Jo. ‘Anyway, I always thought you would come back to me. Jemima thought so too.’
