They are upstairs in the sitting room. Lucy is lounging in Uncle Wilbur’s chair, feet up on a cushion on his coffee table. She has discarded her orange dress and is plumply filling a pink onesie covered in cherries.
They have been catching up on family news, although Jo has avoided asking about Finn, worried she might give something away. As Finn said, it’s ‘his stuff’ too. As they chat, Jo cancels the online booking she had made for lunch at a nearby tapas bar – Lucy looks tired – and Jo suggests that instead she go out and get them a selection of food from the local deli. She persuades Lucy to have a nap whilst she pops out, and she makes up Uncle Wilbur’s bed for her. She’s retreating back to the spare room for the night, so Lucy can have more space.
‘I’m sorry about the Jemima stuff,’ Lucy says, as she starts to haul herself up from the chair.
‘Yeah, that was a bit of a bolt from the blue,’ Jo agrees. ‘Do you see much of her?’ She experiences a slight twinge of something she recognizes as jealousy. She wonders just how long the two of them have spent talking about her and James.
‘A bit.’ Lucy sounds cagey.
‘She’s still at the bank, though?’
‘Oh, yes. She only does the market stuff as a hobby.’
‘Does she ever mention James?’ Jo doesn’t know why she asks. Some sense of being left out of things?
‘Yes …’ Lucy says, slowly. ‘He’s split up from Nicky,’ she continues, watching her friend warily.
So it didn’t last with Nickeeey … Jo is not sure how she feels about that. A big part of her is pleased it didn’t work out. James certainly didn’t deserve ‘happy ever after’. A few weeks ago, she knows she’d have seen this as a splinter of hope, a sign that James had come to his senses, would want her back. And now? She thinks of Malcolm’s words:He was never your friend.
‘Say something, Jo.’ Lucy is now on her feet facing her. ‘Oh, please tell me you wouldn’t …’ she doesn’t finish.
‘No. I don’t think I would.’
‘Well, try and sound a bit more convincing,’ Lucy says, and the edge is back.
What did make her hesitate for the tiniest of a split second? That getting back together would prove he was wrong and that she was worth having?
It seems all Lucy hears is the hesitation; the rise in the pitch of her voice is a measure of her exasperation. ‘God, Jo, he’s not worth it. Open your eyes. He wasneverworth it. He isn’t the man you thought he was.’ Lucy takes a deep breath, ‘Please tell me you don’t still believe the “at least he was faithful” crap?’
Jo feels like she has been slapped. She’d had doubts, it’s true, but then she’d checked his phone and email records – and more (it wasn’t as if James ever changed his password).
‘But I looked,’ is all she can think to say. Followed quickly by, ‘You know something.’ It isn’t a question.
Lucy stands, feet slightly apart, and is glaring at Jo. Despite the pink onesie, she is an imposing figure. ‘Everybodyknew, Jo! Well, that’s what Jemima told me. He made a point of looking after the graduate trainees and used it as an excuse to chase after Nicky. Why would he need to email her? Jemima said he saw her every day. And I’ll give him this, he was a piece of work, Jo, but he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t start splashing it around on Instagram until months later, and while you were together he probably knew you’d look at his phone and emails. You always knew more about IT than he did. For God’s sake, he even got you sorting out his mum’s computer. Rushing round there every hour of the day, after his dad died.’
Jo can’t assimilate the barrage of information. Yes, she’d helped his mum. Done so much for her and for James. Wasn’t that what a partner did? How could Lucy give her a hard time when she was only trying to be kind? The voice that says,but what did he do for you, Jo?is washed away in the next thought that sweeps everything else before it.
‘You knew and you didn’t tell me?’ Jo is surprised to hear that she shouts this.
In her mind she replays the scene with James, like old film footage:There is no one else.
She hadn’t even asked.
Lucy blanches, but shifts on her feet as if getting purchase. ‘Bloody hell, Jo, loads of people knew. It wasn’t just me.’
Hurt and humiliation swamp Jo and then, erupting out of this, fury.
‘But you’re my best friend! Why didn’t you tell me?’
Lucy blows out a breath that is so long Jo half expects her to deflate. ‘I wanted to, Jo. But how could I? We weren’t … it wasn’t like it has been … I wasn’t sure you would believe me.’
‘So you and Jemima had a good laugh about poor old Jo.’ She spits this.
Lucy puts her hand to her eyes. ‘No, it wasn’t like that.’
‘Well, what was it like? I was trying to do the right thing by that fucker James, by you, by his family … and you’re sitting round having a nice cosy bitch about me?’
‘No!’ Lucy’s voice is almost as loud as Jo’s now. ‘I went to see the shitbag.’
