He flushed bright red. “Sorry, that was … uncalled for. Actually, no, it wasn’t. You found Riz on your way back from getting ploughed all night by Errol? Errol, really? He … he’s so smarmy. We were all desperately worried about you, but you went off and decided the best way to deal with your problems was to bend over for him.”
Wow. Okay. People really had opinions on how I spent my time, didn’t they?
“First things first, I already saidIscrewed Errol, Simon, not the other way around – not that either way diminishes anyone. It’s called being vers, and it makes sex a lot morefun. You should try it sometime rather than being too scared you’ll be one of ‘those gays’ if you take it up the arse. It might help you be less of a grumpy bastard. Second, how I process my private life …” My voice cracked and – dammit – Simon noticed. I cleared my throat. “How I process my private life being splashed all over the fucking papers is my business.”
I didn’t mean to sound churlish, but not all of us were blessed with a George and Marion as our parents, so Simon could fuck off if he thought he could shame me for this. Happy, middle-class Simon, with his – no doubt – nice four-bedroom family house, two cars, parents who knew his teachers’ names and holidays to France every summer, could go all the way to fuck if he wanted to judge me on how I coped with things.
The reality might have been different. But until I had tales of childhood trauma confirmed to me, I was going to internally assign him all the trimmings of a happy adolescence.
“And one more thing, you burst into my house and start spouting off ideas about this all being connected,” I said, getting to the crux of the matter. “Okay, you may be onto something. If you can put aside your disgust that, yes, Simon, I have sex from time to time, we can get back to the matter at hand.” I thought of what Nigella had said yesterday. It seemed to be the only thing to occupy him at the moment. And, while I thought it was extremely unhealthy, it was better than stewing in his anger and sadness.
There was a very long silence.
He eventually cleared his throat. “God, I hate Neuberger.” He gave me a look – almost shyly – and a tiny flicker moved at the corner of his mouth. The hint of a smile.
“Oh my God, he is such an arsewipe,” I said. “What the hell was he trying to do? Insinuate that I put some kind of hit out on Riz or something?”
“Right?” Simon said, leaning down to stroke Kennedy, who had come to stand beside him. “Me being here probably played into some fantasy he’s concocted of us being accomplices.”
“It was all an inside job, with me and Suzy Rabbit, to get the Lib Dems a victory.”
At this, he snorted.
“Let’s go see Jed,” I said. “We can take our minds off this and remind ourselves there’s other shit in the world.”
He nodded. “That’s a nice idea. I’ve been ignoring Jed, and I feel terrible. He’s been good to me. He was the first friend I made when I moved to Lilbury.”
We began to get ready, and Simon continued to talk. “He was the one who told me about the rugby team in Compney that I joined, where I met Trevor and made a few other friends. He and I were drinking buddies for quite a while. It was through him that I became friends with Guy, too.”
“You didn’t receive the full Nigella when you arrived?” I asked as we headed out for my car, with Kennedy having a full meltdown in the background about being left at home. Oh, the howling, oh, the sulking. He would be in such a mood when I got home. But hospitals weren’t dog-friendly environments.
“No, the twins were toddlers when I arrived. It’s only the last couple of years that Nigella has had the free time to start being so sociable again.”
I can imagine twins in one’s late forties took it out of you. My heart hurt for her. She’d finally got the family she’d always wanted later in life, but it had helped drive her and Matteo apart.
We lapsed into silence as I started towards Bournemouth. I was self-conscious about my driving. “You can go a bit faster,” Simon said. “You’re barely doing sixty.”
“I’d prefer not to end up in the hospital next to Jed, thank you.”
He gave me a look and muttered something under his breath about ‘an old woman’ that I didn’t catch.
We fell into silence again, but this time less tense.
“Is that what you meant about the connection – earlier, you mentioned that JedRev and Guy were friends,” I asked. “Is that how you think this could all be linked? What, people are attacking all the pillars of the establishment? Westminster, the C of E, and the landed gentry. Will we have to form a protective barrier around the Women’s Institute next to make sure no one tries to kill Margo Cadbury-Smythe?”
Simon pursed his lips. “Would anyone miss Margo?”
“What? Simon! She’s my best friend.”
He chuckled. “I’ve already had to warn that new lady who moved into Arabella’s house to stay clear,” he said.
“Katrina? She’s really nice.”
Simon looked like he was going to say something, but then thought better of it.
Conversation was over after that until we reached the hospital. Simon had been texting Nigella on the way there for details of where to locate Jed.
We made our way to his ward and found a reception desk. The bored woman waved us through to a different section where there were only a few beds per room. “I love the NHS,” I muttered. “But thank God I can afford to go private.”
