by Pippa Wright
‘Was that the door?’
‘It wouldn’t be the postman at this hour, Eleanor,’ snapped Percy.
‘That’s enough, Perce. I thought you and Eleanor were bosom buddies these days,’ said a voice that I recognized, to my surprise, as Jim’s.
‘There is a viper in her bosom,’ I heard Percy say.
‘As if you’d know what was in my bosom, Percy Granger,’ said Eleanor. I guessed their peace agreement, always fragile, had been stretched to breaking point by the stress of Auntie Lyd’s sudden illness.
I trudged down the stairs, straightening my shoulders as I entered the kitchen. ‘It was the door; it was me,’ I said.
The kitchen table was covered in foil containers – Percy stopped with a spoon halfway between one container and his plate. Mustard-yellow curry dripped from the spoon on to the table. Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears and she clutched nervously at the neck of her blouse. Jim pushed his chair away from the table and stood up.
‘It’s all okay,’ I said, coming into the warmth of the room. ‘She’s sleeping. She’s going to be fine. We can all see her tomorrow.’
Percy lowered the spoon on to his plate and, his argument with her forgotten, put his arm around Eleanor, whose shoulders were shaking. Jim ushered me to a chair as if it was me who had been hospitalized.
‘Have you eaten anything?’ he asked, crouching down at my knees once I’d sat down. ‘You look pale; do you feel okay?’
I suddenly felt as if I wouldn’t be able to stand up if I tried. It must have been coming home that made me relax to the point of narcolepsy.
‘I’m fine,’ I said. It made me embarrassed to get all of this attention while it was Auntie Lyd who was really ill. Anything I was feeling was nothing compared to that. ‘How are you all doing? I’m glad you ordered in some food.’
‘It was Jim, dear,’ said Eleanor, drying her eyes with a handkerchief that Percy had pulled out of his cardigan pocket. ‘He ordered it on the broadband. Isn’t it amazing what you can do these days?’
‘You should try to eat something,’ insisted Jim to me, pushing himself up to standing. He picked up a plate and began to load it with rice and spoonfuls of greasy curry. When he placed it in front of me my stomach turned at the pools of oil that spread out to the edges of the plate.
‘Thanks,’ I said, and began to move the curry around the plate with my fork, hoping no one would notice if nothing made it into my mouth.
Eleanor and Percy exclaimed over the curry like it was the last supper, praising Jim’s choices as if he had cooked them with his own hands. Only a certain tightness around Percy’s mouth, and Eleanor’s anxious eyes flicking towards Jim every few minutes, revealed how hard they were trying to keep the flow of light chatter going. I managed a few mouthfuls of dry rice, which sat heavily on my stomach, and joined in the conversation as much as they would allow, but it was as if their dialogue was scripted to spare either Jim or me the effort of having to speak. Jim poured me a glass of wine; I was pathetically grateful for it. He didn’t seem to be eating much either, but he topped up his own wine steadily and drank with a sense of purpose, as if he was dosing himself with medicine.
I wasn’t surprised when Percy and Eleanor both declared, at only eight-thirty, that they would be retiring to bed early. I almost felt as if I should applaud their performance, but I didn’t want them to feel obliged to stay for an encore; they both looked drained and weary. I hugged them both before they went upstairs, and promised we would all go together to see Auntie Lyd tomorrow. I knew that I could expect to see them both dressed and ready by sunrise, waiting hopefully at the kitchen table for a lift.
Percy patted Jim matily on the arm as he left, but Eleanor insisted that he stood for a hug. She circled his waist with her thin arms and ran a hand lasciviously up his back – by now it was almost a reflex action, despite her exhaustion – before being dragged away by Percy. We could hear her protests, and his admonishments, as they went up the stairs.
Jim started to clear away the plates, scraping the leftovers back into the foil containers.
‘You can leave that, Jim,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it. You’ve been amazing, you don’t have to do any more.’
I was surprised to find that I really meant it. He had been amazing. Especially for someone who, only hours earlier, I’d accused of being a dodgy con artist out to defraud my aunt. I wondered if, yet again, my powers of judgement had been wrong. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking that it was weird for a young man to devote himself to a house full of aged thespians with no ulterior motive, but I had to admit that Auntie Lyd was right: what evidence did I have that Jim was anything other than a supportive help to her? First my cheating ex-boyfriend turned out to be a repentant saviour, now the dodgy plumber seemed like he might be nothing of the kind. Had dating the unsuitable men taught me absolutely nothing about how to identify the good from the bad?
Jim didn’t stop clearing up, just scooped the rubbish into the bin and took the stack of plates to the dishwasher. ‘’S not a problem,’ he shrugged. ‘I’d feel bad if I didn’t help out. Your aunt’s been so good to me.’
His eyes flicked in my direction for a second, and I realized to my shame that he was anticipating some sort of unpleasant response from me. Some accusation about his using Auntie Lyd.
‘I’m sorry, Jim, I’ve been so rude to you,’ I said, my tongue loosened by wine and guilt. ‘I don’t know why. I think I just felt jealous of how close you got to Auntie Lyd. It’s childish. I’m really sorry. You’ve done nothing but be kind and helpful since you got here. Auntie Lyd wouldn’t know what to do without you.’
Jim closed the dishwasher door and came to sit next to me. He poured himself another glass of wine and drank deeply. ‘You don’t need to apologize,’ he said. ‘I knew you needed your aunt’s support, with your breakup and everything. I shouldn’t have taken up so much of her time. She’s just really helped me with a few things. She gives good advice.’
‘She does,’ I agreed, turning my wine glass in my hands. ‘Tough love a speciality.’
‘Yeah,’ he laughed. ‘She’s good at that.’
We sat in silence for a while. Auntie Lyd would have been glad to see it. Perhaps we weren’t ever going to be best friends, but at least we could sit in the same room without sniping at one another.
‘I owe her a lot,’ said Jim suddenly. His voice was unsteady.
‘You do?’
Yeah,’ he said quietly. He drained the wine bottle into his glass, shaking out the last drops.
‘Jim,’ I hesitated. ‘You said your mum was in hospital a while ago.’
He nodded, not looking up.
‘Is – did she – was she okay?’
Jim didn’t look at me. He just shook his head.
‘Oh, Jim, I’m so sorry,’ I said. My hand hovered over his back, not sure if I should comfort him, afraid to intrude into his thoughts. He sat up suddenly, his mouth a tight line.
‘It’s fine, it was a few years ago,’ he said. ‘Just – hospitals, you know? Horrible places. Brings it all back.’ He stared at the far wall, but it seemed like he was looking much further away.
‘Lydia’s been really good to me,’ he continued. ‘She’s got me to talk about my mum loads. My sister’s not been handling it at all well, and it’s left me without anyone to talk to properly. I hadn’t realized how much it had been building up until she asked me about it. I’d kind of been relying on Lydia lately. Too much, probably. So, Jesus, for her to end up in hospital too.’
He dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders hunched.
‘She’s going to be okay, Jim,’ I said, and this time I did put my arm around him. He seemed so vulnerable, far from the cocky plumber I was used to. ‘She’s going to be out of hospital in a few days.’
Jim leaned into my shoulder, and rubbed at his eyes. ‘It shouldn’t be you comforting me, Rory, this is all wrong.’
I stroked his hair. Close up it didn’t look highlighted, just natu
rally blond, like a child’s. When he lifted his head up, it didn’t occur to me to take my hand away.
‘Rory.’ His voice was low and urgent. I knotted my fingers in his hair as if to hold on tighter. Everything seemed to slow down. I couldn’t have told you which of us moved first, only that we both seemed impelled together until our lips were touching.
It was only the smallest, lightest of kisses. Innocent, the kind you might give to a sleeping baby. But I hardly had time to acknowledge the strangeness of it – I was kissing the plumber! – before Jim leapt away from me as if he’d been stung.
‘Sorry, Rory, sorry. We shouldn’t—’ He ran his hands through his hair and pushed his chair away from the table.
‘S-Sorry,’ I stammered back, not sure which one of us should be apologizing. Or if either of us should.
‘I’m drunk,’ he said, wiping his mouth as if to get rid of the touch of my lips. ‘I’ve had too much to drink, and you’re all over the place after the day you’ve had. This is all wrong.’
‘Is it?’ I asked, in a quiet voice. I didn’t understand. He hadn’t seemed drunk. I didn’t feel like I was all over the place. In fact sitting with Jim had been the calmest I’d felt all day.
‘You need to go to bed, Rory,’ said Jim sternly. He strode to the far side of the kitchen and flicked on the kettle, although I was sure he had as little interest in a cup of tea as I had. He just wanted to get away from me. ‘You’re tired and I don’t think you’re fully aware of what you’re doing.’
I rose to my feet and my head swam with confusion. I was sure I hadn’t mistaken the look in Jim’s eyes, but he had clearly thought better of it.
‘G-good night then,’ I said.
‘Night,’ he muttered. I waited for a moment, watching his broad shoulders hunched over the work surface, his head bowed. He didn’t turn round.
31
I had expected to lie awake for most of the night, worrying about Auntie Lyd, thinking about Martin wanting us to get back together, puzzling over Jim’s behaviour in the kitchen. Instead I slept dreamlessly, waking to the shrill ring of the alarm clock at eight. I sprang up in bed, breathing hard, as if I had been sprinting around Clapham Common: Auntie Lyd. Like a fool I had forgotten to check what time visiting hours were at the hospital. What if she was awake already? Would she be afraid, on her own? In pain? I remembered her furious defence the day before that she was not a frail old lady to be patronized. She would not submit easily to the passive role of patient, no matter how ill she was.
I pulled on my clothes from yesterday, not bothering to shower or wash my face; I just wanted to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I could always wait in the cafe until they let me see her. Downstairs in the kitchen, Eleanor and Percy sat at the kitchen table – I was surprised to see that Eleanor held a cup of coffee between her hands instead of her usual whisky. And there was not a tremor to be seen. In the corner of the kitchen, Jim had his back turned to the room. I hadn’t expected to see him here on a Sunday morning, and I wondered why he had come here at all if he was going to ignore me like this, until I realized he was on the house phone. My heart leapt into my throat – what if it was the hospital? Had Auntie Lyd taken a turn for the worse?
‘No comment,’ he said, and then, more crossly, ‘I said no comment, and I meant it.’
I looked at Percy and Eleanor with eyebrows raised in silent enquiry.
‘Journalists,’ whispered Eleanor with a fastidious grimace. ‘Someone at the hospital has told the papers about Lydia. This is the third phone call this morning.’
Jim slammed the phone down. ‘Jesus,’ he snapped. He turned around and saw me standing by the table. I wasn’t sure if the flicker of annoyance I saw was intended for me or for the person he’d just hung up on.
‘Hi, Jim,’ I said, feeling a blush creeping up my neck.
‘All right, Dawn,’ he smiled. ‘Don’t worry about the papers – they’ll be on to another news story soon.’
‘How strange,’ I said. ‘It’s not like Auntie Lyd gets mobbed by paparazzi every day.’
Jim shrugged. ‘I suppose they’ve got to write about something. Ambulance chasers.’
I stepped over towards the kettle, out of earshot of Percy and Eleanor. ‘Jim,’ I began, my voice as low as I could make it.
He smiled. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ he said quietly.
‘Have you?’ I asked, feeling a flutter of alarm in my chest. What did he mean? Was he going to kiss me again? In front of Percy and Eleanor?
‘Oh yes,’ he said, stepping closer and reaching into his pocket. ‘At least, I think it’s yours. I had to read some rather interesting texts to work out who it might belong to.’
He held my mobile phone out to me, flat on his palm like an offering. A sardonic smile twitched on his mouth. Oh God, the texts from Luke. Worse, the replies from me and Malky.
‘Wh-where did you find it?’ I asked, taking it from his hand while avoiding looking at him directly. What must he think of me, exchanging filthy texts with one man, sleeping with another, hanging out with my ex-boyfriend and kissing Jim in the kitchen? I hardly knew what to think myself.
‘It was posted through the door,’ said Jim, unable to stop smirking. ‘I found it there when I came in this morning. It was with this.’ He handed me a worn and dirty scrap of lined paper that had obviously been torn from a notebook. Scrawled across it was a brief message: I found this in my pocket. Sorry. Malky. I frowned at the note, hardly caring why he’d had my phone in the first place. I was just grateful to have it back.
I deleted all the missed calls from yesterday and checked my messages. There was just one new one, from Luke, clearly frustrated at the sudden termination of our conversation on Friday night. ‘If you had a shred of decency,’ his message read, ‘you would at least send me a picture of your tits.’
Before I could ask Jim anything more, the home phone rang again.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Jim, scowling. He snatched the phone from its cradle and barked a terse ‘Yes?’
Percy, Eleanor and I watched him expectantly. While I would rather not have seen him this morning, my head still spinning from last night, I had to admit that I was grateful to him for being here. He had obviously already made breakfast for everyone, somehow steered Eleanor away from her morning whisky, and now he was dealing with phone calls from the press. I hadn’t considered that Auntie Lyd was famous enough, so long after her heyday, that journalists would hound her family for updates on her health.
‘Right, mate, hi,’ said Jim, nodding into the phone. ‘Did you want to speak to Dawn? I mean, Rory? Okay, I can pass on a message. Yup, yup. How did you—? Okay, fine, yup. Thanks, mate, see you in a bit.’
‘Who was that?’ I asked, as soon as he hung up.
‘Martin,’ said Jim. ‘He said to tell you he’s nearly here – he checked with the hospital and your aunt is doing well. He’ll take you straight there.’
‘He rang the hospital . . .?’ I began. I should have called the moment I’d woken up. It shouldn’t have been Martin who made the call; that was my responsibility.
Jim interrupted as if he’d read my mind. ‘He said he was family.’
I felt irrationally annoyed by Martin’s presumption. I was Auntie Lyd’s family, not him. I knew I should have been grateful that he was giving up his time like this, and sparing me the bus journey, but if I was honest, I’d woken up this morning thinking that I would have preferred to travel there on my own, anonymous and unnoticed on public transport where I was free to think. I wondered if Martin would have been so keen to help me if he knew I’d been kissing another man in the kitchen last night. That aside, I didn’t want to be obliged to consider his feelings when I got to the hospital, to have him at the back of my mind when I wanted to give all my attention to Auntie Lyd.
‘Everything all right, Rory, dear?’ asked Eleanor, tilting her head at me, bird-like.
‘Oh fine, fine,’ I said. The others didn’t need to be burdened with my w
orries. They had enough of their own.
‘Will we come to the hospital with you?’ Percy asked.
My heart sank a little. I shouldn’t deny them the chance to come and see Auntie Lyd themselves, but I so longed to see her on my own.
Jim interrupted before I could speak, seeming to read my mind. ‘I think we should all stay here this morning, let Rory see Lydia by herself first. Best not to crowd the patient, don’t you think, Dawn? I can bring us all for afternoon visiting hours.’
‘Well, yes,’ agreed Eleanor. ‘If you think that’s best, dear. I’m sure we don’t want to be any trouble, do we, Percy?’
‘You’re no trouble,’ I said to Eleanor. ‘I’m sure Auntie Lyd will want to see you both as soon as possible. But maybe Jim’s right – this afternoon’s better.’
I smiled at Jim gratefully and he shrugged. Turning away, he started to empty the dishwasher, stacking plates and bowls noisily on the side. Although it was kind of him to help, I couldn’t help wondering if he was using household chores as an excuse to keep me at a distance. As if I might pounce on him again. Obviously Jim thought last night had been a huge mistake. Of course he was right. What had we been thinking? We’d both drunk far too much, and now it was clear he regretted it. Fine. It wasn’t like I even fancied him.
‘Call me,’ said Jim gruffly, his head buried in the dishwasher.
‘Sorry?’ I asked.
‘Call me to say if she wants afternoon visitors, and I’ll bring Perce and Eleanor to the hospital,’ said Jim, glancing up. I couldn’t work him out. One minute he was laughing and teasing, the next serious and grim. It made me nervous. Suddenly I wanted to get out of the kitchen, out of the house. Martin would be here soon and then I would lose my only chance to be alone.
‘Okay,’ I said, backing slowly towards the kitchen door as if I imagined the others would forcibly restrain me there if they suspected my motives. ‘I – I think I’m going to wait for Martin outside. I feel like I could do with some fresh air.’