Ed catches my eye and saunters across the room towards me, taking two glasses of white wine as he passes the table.
‘We can’t have that,’ I say, taking it anyway.
‘Watch me.’ Ed downs his in a gulp. ‘God, that’s disgusting. I have no idea why anyone drinks wine. Want another?’
‘OK,’ I say, and when he comes back I tip the contents of one of my glasses into the other so it’s full almost to the top.
‘I don’t want you lot rolling home pissed,’ says Jack, in passing. ‘I’ll be the one who gets it in the neck.’
‘I’ll make sure he behaves,’ I say.
Ed raises his eyebrows at me. ‘Shame,’ he says, and pulls me close so the wine glass sloshes slightly, making a puddle on the floor.
‘Stop it.’ We’re in a gallery and I want to kiss him, but I’m aware that we’re right in the middle of the floor and everyone’s going to see us. And then I realize that maybe I should be a bit more like Allie, so I lean over and do it. Ed’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
‘We could always go for a walk,’ he says. ‘I bet Lauren will be fine here.’
‘I can’t leave her in the middle of a gallery with a load of random strangers and say, “Sorry, be right back – just going to go and do kissing,” can I?’
‘I don’t know.’ Ed grins. ‘That sounds pretty good to me.’
I shake my head. ‘You are a disgrace.’
‘That’s why you love me . . . ’
And everything stops for a second as he realizes what he’s said, and I look him in the eye for a second, and then look away and feel my cheeks stinging pink. And I wonder again how I’ll know if I do. Or when. And –
‘If you two lovebirds are up for it, we’re thinking of heading over to the gardens in half an hour? Allie’s got a load of stuff for a picnic, and Dad says we can take some of the food from out back.’
We’re brought back to reality by Rio.
‘Lauren’s quite nice, really,’ he continues, lowering his voice. ‘I’m surprised.’
‘She’s my sister,’ I say, hearing the unfamiliar words coming out of my mouth and liking them. ‘Of course she’s nice.’
‘You’ve got a point there.’
We sprawl on the grass in the gardens with the ever-present sound of bagpipes in the air. There’s the rushing noise of traffic to one side, and the rumble of trains heading into Waverley station on the other, and the sky is a sharp bright blue above our heads.
Milly has brought a picnic blanket and we’ve laid all the food out on it. Ed swats a wasp away and rolls over on his side, putting his chin in his hand to look at me. I’m sitting cross-legged on the grass beside him. Lauren and Rio are looking at something on her phone.
‘That’s my dad’s office, y’know.’ Ed points to an imposing-looking building in the distance. ‘Weird to think that right now he’s up there, looking out at the gardens, not knowing I’m down here.’
I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had a dad, and I’ve never really allowed myself to think about how it would feel to have one that actually bothered to stick around. And I look at Ed and notice there’s a thoughtful expression on his face and his eyebrows are gathering in a frown.
‘I think –’ he springs to his feet – ‘maybe I’ll go and tell him what I think.’
I scramble up too. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ Ed brushes grass from his jeans.
I realize that the two glasses of wine he’s had have given him some sort of weird Dutch courage.
‘Because you said yourself he’s a master at manipulation and he hit your mum.’
I turn to enlist Lauren and Rio in persuading him it’s a bad idea, but they’re deep in conversation, and they don’t even know the whole story.
‘It’s only a ten-minute walk from here. I’ll just nip along and go to reception, tell them I want a word.’
‘He might not be there.’ I cross my fingers hopefully.
‘Oh, I’m sure he will be. He’s a workaholic. And if I show up, he’ll stop what he’s doing to be there for me. He likes to be seen to do the right thing.’ A bitter expression crosses Ed’s face.
I think about his mum in the little cottage with hardly any furniture, and about Ed stealing back her jewellery and meeting up with his cousin on the sly to try and sort things out. And I think about the huge house they left behind and the life they used to live. And I know Ed says he’s happier now, but there’s a part of me that wonders if he’d still take it all back, if his dad agreed to just walk out of the house and give them everything. And Lauren and I talked about it, and she said that his dad would have to give his mum half in the divorce, but that it didn’t always work out like that. Sometimes the good guys don’t win in the end, she’d said, and I’d thought of her living in that huge house with her dad and Clare and how she’d seemed happier living in our crappy little terrace than she’d ever been with her dad. Maybe being the good guy doesn’t always mean walking away with everything . . .
‘I’m coming with you,’ I say to Ed, and I put my hand in his.
‘He’s an arsehole,’ he warns me.
‘It’s fine. I’ve met plenty of them.’
I tell Lauren we’ll be back in half an hour. She starts to ask where we’re going, but I just say I’ll explain later, and she nods.
We march up the streets past the Bank buildings and through flocks of suit-wearing businessmen. And then we arrive at the huge glass doors of Ed’s father’s office, and he presses the buzzer.
‘I’m here to see my dad,’ he says to an immaculately made-up receptionist.
I look at my scruffy shoes on the pristine wooden floor and feel like I’ve been dragged in from a pile of leftovers.
‘Ed,’ she says, looking up and smiling warmly. ‘Haven’t seen you round here for a while. How’s school?’
Ed nods politely. ‘Good, thanks.’
She asks us to take a seat, and brings us some fizzy water in coloured glasses. My mouth feels dry and I swallow the whole glass in one go.
Ed jiggles his knee up and down.
The lift opens, and we both jump up to standing.
A woman with a briefcase steps out and flicks her hair over one shoulder, jingling a set of keys in her hand.
We sit down again and wait.
Ten minutes pass, in which time neither of us says anything. I check the clock above the receptionist’s head every thirty seconds and wonder what Lauren and Rio are doing now.
I’m halfway through a message to her when the lift bell rings, and the door opens again, and my stomach is whirling with nerves. Ed stands up and takes my hand, pulling me to upright. I can feel his palms are damp.
‘I got your note,’ says his father.
He’s tall, taller even than Ed – he must be six foot five at least. His hair is really dark brown and brushed up with something so he looks even taller. And he grins at us, holding out his hand.
‘I’m Mark Jarvis,’ he says, and he shakes my hand, vigorously. ‘This must be –’
And he turns to Ed, waiting for him to fill in my name.
‘I’m Holly,’ I say, sharply.
‘Nice to meet you, Holly,’ he says, smiling. ‘Good to see you, son,’ he says, when Ed doesn’t speak.
And he tries to pull him into an awkward embrace, but Ed hasn’t let go of my hand, so we end up in an ungainly tangle. I step backwards and so does Ed.
‘Shall we get some lunch?’
I don’t know what to do with any of this. I was expecting Ed to scream at him or shout or punch him, or for his dad to launch into a furious tirade about the fact we’d stolen the jewellery. I was not expecting him to be pleasantly charming and slightly uncomfortable.
Ed shakes his head. ‘I don’t have long.’
‘Jane will sort us a room,’ his dad says, and strides over to the receptionist.
I look at Ed and hope that my expression says everything. I seem to have been struck dumb by the weirdness of the
situation.
‘Right,’ Ed’s dad says, walking ahead of us and turning and beckoning for us to follow, ‘we’re in here.’
He holds open the door to a room where there’s a huge table lined with expensive-looking chairs and a whiteboard at the end.
‘I’m in here for a meeting later,’ he says to me, smiling as if to try to put me at ease. He goes to a fancy-looking phone with lots of buttons and presses some kind of loudspeaker thing that connects him to Jane.
‘Coffee and muffins, please, lovely,’ he says into the air.
There’s a second’s pause and then Jane’s voice comes back through the little speaker. ‘Coming up.’
When he’s finished, he looks up at us, smiling again.
‘Can we just cut the bullshit?’
Ed blurts the words out angrily. He doesn’t take the chair he’s been offered, and I feel awkward sitting there while Ed is standing up beside me. But I can’t work out how to get up or what to do.
‘What are you talking about?’ Ed’s dad smiles at me as if trying to get me on side. ‘Do you know what this is about?’
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
‘You know we’ve got a new house?’
Ed pushes the back of the chair next to me angrily so it bangs on the table. I shove mine backwards and stand up, so I’m by his side.
‘I heard, yes.’
‘No thanks to you.’
‘Ed, this isn’t anything to do with us. Your mother and I splitting up – it’s . . . I don’t want to be painted as the bad guy in all of this . . .’
He tails off and looks at me again.
‘The bad guy?’ Ed spits. ‘You treated her like shit for years. Made her feel like she was worthless.’
‘Your mother can fight her own battles.’
‘Really?’
Ed’s eyes are blazing with anger now. His dad is torn between trying to fight his corner and appearing to be the kind, reasonable person in all of this to me.
‘I think this isn’t the time to be discussing it,’ he begins, and the receptionist walks into the room, pushing the door with her hip, a tray in her hands.
‘Here you are, Mark.’ She smiles at him and puts down a coffee pot, three mugs, and a plate of chocolate muffins.
‘Thanks,’ he says, his manners impeccable. ‘Appreciate it.’
Ed gives a snort of disgust, and she looks at him curiously. She smooths down her pencil skirt and turns to Ed’s dad for direction. As far as she’s concerned, he’s the one in charge here.
‘Teenagers,’ his father says, with a too-loud laugh.
He gets up to see her out. As he does so, Ed stands up and walks across the room so I’m between the two of them. He’s standing at the top of the table, in the space where his father stood a few moments ago.
I turn and realize in that moment that I’m caught between the two of them, and I feel a chill despite the warmth of the summer day. His dad’s shoulders seem to reach almost from one side of the doorframe to the other. He’s built like a rugby player with huge, broad hands.
I think of Ed’s mum, Lucy, and how sweet and kind she is, and I imagine how it must have felt to be hit by him. I feel bile and fear rising in my throat.
I turn to look at Ed, and put a hand to my mouth.
‘You OK?’ Ed turns to me, gentle for a second.
‘Mmm.’ I nod, keeping my lips pressed together.
His father doesn’t say anything. He carefully adjusts the cufflinks on his shirt and looks at us. His face doesn’t register any emotion at all for a moment, as if he’s a snake trying to calculate how best to attack his prey. I feel my heart thudding in my ears.
‘I don’t know what shit your mother has been filling your head with, but she’s more than capable of fighting her own battles.’ His face settles into a smile, which doesn’t meet his eyes, and his voice has a cold, flat tone that sends another chill up my spine.
‘So why aren’t you paying her any money?’
Ed’s father gives a shake of his head, as if he’s a silly child.
‘Of course I’m going to be paying her money,’ he says, faux-patiently. ‘We’re just waiting for the legal details to be sorted.’
‘And in the meantime we’re meant to survive on nothing?’ Ed’s jaw lifts as he speaks.
‘That was never my intention.’
Ed’s father steps towards the table, and I take a step back without meaning to.
‘Let’s have a coffee; we can talk about this. This is just a silly misunderstanding between your mother and me. If you want money, all you have to do is ask your mother to speak to me in person, like I’ve asked her to, and we can sort this nonsense out.’
I can feel Ed’s body going rigid as his dad calmly pours coffee into three mugs. He holds one out to me. I raise a hand at him to say, No, thank you. No, I don’t want your coffee. You give me the creeps.
‘Your mother’s no angel,’ he begins. He adds milk and three sugars, stirring his coffee for a long time. There’s no other noise in the room except the sound of the spoon clattering against the edges of the mug. ‘I don’t know why you are painting me to be the monster when she’s just as bad. It was just a silly misunderstanding, which she’s blown out of all proportion.’
I feel so uncomfortable. He keeps saying it over and over again. A silly misunderstanding. As if he’s trying to convince himself as well as us. Ed’s almost gone white with rage, and I know we’ve got to leave.
‘Come on, Ed,’ he begins, softening his tone. ‘Don’t you want your old life back? Your house, your things, your school –’ he looks at me pointedly – ‘your real friends?’
Ed suddenly takes me by the hand and pushes past the chairs so we circle the big table and head for the door. His dad steps forward and for a moment I think he’s about to block our way and I feel my stomach churning again.
But he steps back.
‘A silly misunderstanding?’ Ed spits at him. ‘You hit my mother. You ground her down every single day. Told her she was worthless. You mocked her and told me she was insane. I don’t want my old life back. All this –’ he motions to the posh furniture and the huge windows that look out over the city – ‘you can keep it.’
And I look his father in the eye, and he looks back at me, and I don’t know what it is I see there, but I don’t think it’s regret that he’s hurt his son. It looks more like he’s angry he’s been exposed for what he is. Ed pulls me out, slamming the door behind us, and we march out into the foyer. The receptionist is there and she looks up. Her face is white.
‘Ed, tell your mum I’m here if she needs me.’ Her voice is low, but determined. ‘If there’s anything I can do. Anything.’
I give her a brief, confused smile.
We sit down on a concrete block that’s just outside the office, and I take Ed’s hand in mine.
‘Did that help?’ I say quietly.
Ed shakes his head. ‘Not really. I needed to see him face to face – I thought if he saw me he would realize the harm he’s done and apologize. But there was nothing.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘S’OK.’ He lifts his hand to mine and holds it up so our fingers touch, and he doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he laces his fingers through mine and holds on, tightly and starts to quietly laugh.
I turn and look at him. It’s the relief of getting it over with, I think, that’s making him laugh.
‘I think I was expecting I’d go in there and he’d say, “You know what? You’re right – I’m an abusive arsehole. Here’s the house and all the money,”’ he says. ‘But the second I saw him I realized that he was never going to do that.’
Ed’s eyes are blazing bright, and he looks like he’s just won something.
‘Didn’t you see? When he was closing the door behind Jane, I pressed the button on that fancy phone thing, so she could hear every word. He’s not going to change, but if he’s not going to make this easy, neither am I. He’s a dick, and now everyon
e who works for him will hear about it, one way or another.’
I think of his dad going back into the room and noticing, and I wish I could see his face.
‘But you haven’t sorted anything out.’
‘Yet.’ Ed smiles at me and squeezes my hand. He pushes the hair out of his face. ‘We’ll be OK. And I don’t want my old life back. I happen to quite like my new one, weirdly enough.’
We cram into Rio’s dad’s Land Rover and sing along to his terrible music all the way home. We drop off Ed first, and I climb out to let him out and laugh as he untangles his long legs from the back of the truck.
‘I’ll see you,’ he says, and drops a kiss on my temple.
I squeeze his hand and watch from the back window as we drive away. He lopes down the front path of the cottage, and the door opens as his mum greets him. He turns and raises an arm in farewell just as we turn out of sight.
EPILOGUE
‘You lot are going to get me sacked,’ Cressi yells across the water of the pool.
I throw a float at her from the water and duck under before she can launch it back at me. I dive down, pulling myself through the blueness of the water, listening to the echoes above me, and then I swim up to the surface. The last of the evening sun is shining through the skylights and reflecting on the surface, so the dappled light dips and sparkles everywhere.
‘Are you going to ask Cressi if she’ll come up to the woods with us?’
Ed’s treading water in the deep end beside me. He puts out an arm and holds on to the edge of the pool, and he catches my hand, pulling me through the water. I push wet hair out of my face and shake away the drops of water that are running down my forehead. He swirls me round so I’m pressed up against the wall of the pool and he has his arms on either side of me and the only thing holding me up is him and I let out a gasp of surprise as he kisses me. And when he stops I realize that despite the cool of the water I can feel the warmth of his skin against mine.
‘Do you think she’d be up for it?’ I look across the pool at Cressi.
‘She’s pretty game, our Cressida.’ Ed laughs. ‘I’ll ask her.’
My Box-Shaped Heart Page 19