Jo stares at her, startled. ‘Jemima?What, Jemima from work?’
Jemima who rescued her in that awful meeting.
‘Ah, yes,’ Lucy shifts on her seat, ‘forgot to mention that.’
‘How the hell do you know Jemima?’ Jo demands, distracted.
‘She’s part of that monthly Sunday market that I started doing when I came home. I do the vintage stuff, and she has a stall next to mine. You know the sort of thing: tea towels and mugs with Labradors on. We got talking.’
That would be Lucy all over: she took an interest and she talked. Had Jo ever really talked to Jemima? No, she had just followed James around … well … like a Labrador. ‘What did you talk about?’
‘Mainly James. Boy, she really doesn’t like him,’ Lucy says, a little guiltily. ‘I might as well be honest,’ she says, grinning, ‘we bitched about him non-stop. He really was a self-satisfied tosser, Jo,’ Lucy says, almost pleadingly.
‘Was he?’ Jo says, but there is no conviction in her question. Once more she sees Wilbur, Finn, Lucy and Jemima in a line – this time tutting at her, eyes raised to heaven. Lucy and Jemima are now standing arm-in-arm in her imagination.
‘Jemima really likes you, though,’ Lucy adds, encouragingly.
‘Does she? I don’t know why,’ Jo says, and now with the cosy image of Lucy and Jemima fresh in her mind, she’s not sure if she wants Jemima to like her.
‘You just don’t get it, do you?’ Lucy says in a rush. ‘It’s why I was so angry. You’re such a great person, Jo, and he made you feel like shit. You’re kind and fun – and you give people space to be themselves; you don’t overwhelm them, like some people do,’ Lucy grimaces, pointing at herself. She pauses, ‘Then James came along and it was like all the good stuff was sucked out of you.’ She continues, quickly, ‘Well, not all the good, but it was like when you were with him you were a washed-out version of you and you just went along with what he said. I mean you werealwaysthe one who came up with the best ideas, and yet he used to just overrule you and talk over you.’
Jo can see the distress on her friend’s face.
‘I couldn’t bear it, Jo.’
‘Why were you so angry when we split up then?’ Jo asks her.
‘Well, I was bloody furious with him, ’cos I could see you were hurt, and you didn’t deserve it. Not fromhim. I know he’s good-looking and all that, but he was a shit, Jo, and you are worth a million of him.’
Jo puts her hand on Lucy’s arm, but a small part of her senses there is more to it than Lucy is saying. She feels Lucy shift on the tall stool and is suddenly conscious of how pregnant her friend is.
‘Look, let’s talk upstairs – you can sit down properly with your feet up.’
Lucy looks around, ‘What about the shop?’ she asks.
‘Oh, I’ve decided to give myself a half-day,’ she says, reaching down to pull out Lucy’s bag from behind the counter.
‘You don’t have anyone who could helpyou?’ Lucy enquires.
Jo shakes her head. ‘It doesn’t matter just for half a day,’ she assures Lucy.
‘Couldn’t you get your new friends to look after it for you? Couldn’t they help out?’
‘What?’ Jo is disconcerted by the edge in Lucy’s voice.
‘Oh, never mind,’ Lucy mumbles, struggling to get her bulk off the stool.
Jo is going to say something more, but Lucy pipes up, ‘Oh, are those the wishes you wrote to me about?’ and she squeezes past Jo to read the luggage labels tied to the Christmas tree. She does this with a studious intensity that bars any interruption.
Jo watches her for a moment, then goes to the door. Just before turning off the lights and locking up, she slips outside. She takes a few steps towards Eric’s shop and peers in at the corner of his window. Eric and Ferdy are on the floor, surrounded by three large cardboard boxes that they appear to be cutting up. Well, Eric is doing the cutting, Ferdy is trying to get into one of them.
‘Hold on mate, give us a chance,’ Jo hears Eric tell him. ‘Look, put this string through that hole there,’ he instructs his helper.
Eric looks up and Jo quickly dodges out of sight.
32
Stormy weather
