It was back in the Eighties that Grandpa Alan and Grandma Val bought their flat on the Lillington Gardens Estate, mere footsteps from Pimlico Tube station, in the Eighties, and they’ve lived there ever since. (If Jess’s mum is to be believed, they had briefly, in gratitude, hung a portrait of Margaret Thatcher in the hall above the shoe rack, but quickly and quietly removed it when the miners’ strike began.) Jess often calls in on her way to or from the Tube, whether for mundane daily travel or various adventures for work or play, or the many things that blur the boundary between them – like trips to Bath, one of her favourite places: once she’s chaired an author event at Topping & Co, she can get lost in the rabbit warren of Mr B’s Emporium of Reading Delightsfor several hours. If she gives her grandparents enough pre-warning of her visit, there is often a Tupperware of baked goods waiting for her to pick up: an added bonus.
And yes, here it is, on the kitchen counter: flapjacks, this time – Jess’s favourite. She pretends, as she always does, not to notice. She’d never want her grandparents to think she has an ulterior motive for visiting, beyond her grandma’s effusive hugs and slightly wet cheek-kisses, and her grandpa’s sweet if often misguided advice, usually dispensed while he scratches his bald patch.
‘No Ivy today?’ she asks, peeking round the corner into the lounge to see whether her little cousin is ensconced in her favourite armchair with a book or a game on her tablet.
‘Not today, no,’ Val says, and a smile escapes. The smile surprises Jess: she has never heard her grandparents say anything but kind things about Ivy. Ivy’s mum has chronic fatigue and Val is happy to be able to help out. But this blink-and-you-miss-it smile at the corner of Val’s mouth tells a slightly different story: one of relief at the lack of responsibility today. After all her years looking after her own daughters, then Jess, and now Ivy, it’s fair enough to want a rest. Val has more than earned it. A twinge of guilt twists in Jess’s gut: if she was around more, off on fewer adventures, she’d be able to step in. And it wouldn’t be a hardship, not really: she loves seven-year-old Ivy, who’s affectionate and talkative and never gets tired of a game of Connect Four. Val moves on quickly, before Jess can properlyparse or interrogate any of this. ‘So where did you say you were off to this time?’
‘Have you got time for a cuppa, love?’ Grandpa Alan interjects, ushering Jess towards the living room in anticipation of heryes. Jess makes a show of checking her watch, though she’s never been known to reject a cup of tea and has built this exact thing into her schedule.
‘Always, Grandpa,’ she says.
His eyes crinkle, as if he never gets tired of being given this noble title. ‘Coming up,’ he says, and shuffles off into the kitchen.
Val is looking at Jess expectantly. ‘I’m off to Godalming,’ she says. ‘I’m being locked away with another writer until we come up with a half-decent plan to improve his novel.’
Val raises an eyebrow. ‘That sounds … slightly unorthodox.’
‘It’s definitely an unusual tactic.’
‘It also sounds like the beginning of a murder mystery.’
Jess chuckles. ‘Itisvery possible that one of us may not emerge alive.’
Val’s expression turns to concern. ‘You know him, do you, love? Joking aside, I’m not sure I like the idea of you being alone in a house with a strange man.’
‘Oh, he’s not strange.’
It’s true. Alex is many things: arrogant, slightly awkward, weirdly old-fashioned, judgemental. But notstrangeas such. And definitely not creepy.
‘Oh?’
The curiosity in Val’s voice triggers an instant blush: Jess can feel the warmth creeping from her forehead down towards her cheeks. Thank goodness for her grandpa, saving her with the cup of tea he hands her: something to focus her hands and her senses on.
‘I know him a little,’ she says quickly. She can’t quite meet Val’s eyes, which is ridiculous. What does she have to hide? Precisely nothing. She thought she liked Alex; she now realises she doesn’t. All she has to do is survive a weekend without killing him. And then, maybe, what she gets paid will mean she won’t need to say yes to as many events and can be around more for Val and Alan and Ivy.
‘I see,’ Val says, her smile more evident than the earlier one. This smile tells Jess that her grandma has already drawn her own conclusions.
‘We’re just writing together. And I wasn’t joking about one of us killing the other by the end of the weekend. He’s pretty annoying.’
‘I see,’ Val says again, her smile broadening. She will clearly not be talked down from the conclusions she has drawn. And Jess does not want to fall into the category of She Who Protests Too Much.
So she doesn’t protest. Instead, she throws her grandma a crumb. ‘I’m not saying he’snotgood-looking.’
‘Just … not your type?’
‘Something like that.’Something very unlike that, actually, the voice in her head rebukes her.You know you can’t resist a man with a dimple. It’s not nice to lie to your grandmother. ‘There’s more to life than looks,’she says eventually. Not a lie. Not the whole truth. This is the best she can manage right now.
‘I see,’ Val repeats. Her lifelong trick: say as little as possible and leave silence for Jess to fill. It usually works. ‘Well,’ she adds, when nothing else is forthcoming. ‘Keep me posted, okay? And be careful.’
‘I’ll make sure he stays away from sharp knives.’
‘With your heart, I mean.’
Jess slurps the last of her tea, hiding her face in the mug for as long as she can get away with. ‘I’d probably better be going,’ she says, jumping up. Her grandma is kind, caring – as she always has been. But Jess feels squirmy and uncomfortable at the thought that there is anything to be careful about. It’s fine. It’s all fine. Alex has shown himself to be utterly unattractive as a person, whatever the outside packaging might imply. She’s surely not so easily swayed as to go back on this realisation.
‘Wait,’ Val says, as Jess is already halfway out the door with her wheelie suitcase. ‘I’ve got some flapjacks for you.’
It’s a sign of how flustered Jess is that she had almost forgotten about the Tupperware in the kitchen. She needs to snap out of this, and fast.
