‘Okay… if you’re sure—’
‘I’m sure! Jay!’ She fixed him with a look that she hoped would prove just how sure she was. He gave a shallow, injured bird nod. Jess focussed on the files before her wondering how long it would be until she stopped feeling sick. Until her heart returned to its normal pace. Until the tremble in her hands subsided. ‘So, hotels. They are our biggest clients, they make up sixty per cent of our annual income and, with some of our bigger, more exclusive clients, it’s lucrative work. What’s your experience with hotels?’
She held her hands together tightly, willing the strength of her grasp to steady them. And she looked at him. That was that. Except it wasn’t, not really. Because what he said and how he looked at her, didn’t somehow correlate. She felt gagged because there was so much she wanted to say but there was no way she could, or would – he was a married man. She was right before, she was definitely going to have to leave.
Lolly
‘One, two, three.’ Lolly and her colleague, Beth, lifted today’s physio client. ‘Come on, Rhona, you need to sit up for a while. When you’ve got your breath back, we’ll come do some exercises, okay? You fancy a little walk?’
‘Not really,’ grumbled Rhona. ‘Everything hurts.’
‘I know, it will. But if you want to get back home again, you need to do these. How’s the breath exercises going?’ Beth passed Lolly the lung capacity measure. ‘Can you reach that little happy face yet?’
‘Oh, that I can do,’ said Rhona, breathing into the plastic contraption until the little yellow ball reached the level Lolly had set it to the day before. ‘There you go.’
‘Brilliant.’ Lolly adjusted the marker point. ‘This is your next target.’
Rhona groaned. ‘You’re a hard taskmaster.’
‘I am. Because I want you to get better. Now, give me ten minutes then we’ll come back and take a walk down the ward. You reckon you can get all the way down the corridor today?’
‘If it means I’m closer to getting out of this place, I’ll do anything.’
‘Brilliant.’ Lolly winked at her patient then ushered Beth out of the room.
‘Right, let’s go sort that paperwork out before we come back.’ Beth followed Lolly back to their office just off the ward. Well, it was described as an office but it was really more of a cupboard. There was just about enough room for two desks, facing each other, no window. The strip lighting above was pretty brutal and if they closed the door for too long, it just got hot and airless. Still, it was their sanctuary. Beth closed the door behind them.
‘Come on then, Lol, what’s up?’
Lolly picked through some paperwork on her desk, filing a few bits in the tray to her right. Signing something then dropping it into a manila folder and placing it in a separate tray. ‘What do you mean, what’s up? I’m fine.’
‘I can see that. I could see that since you arrived this morning. It’s hard to tell if it’s the lack of smile or the distracted look in your eye, either way, you are definitely fine. I’d like to be as fine as you, it’s an inspiring level of—’
‘Alright!’ Lolly put her hands up in submission. ‘Yes, okay, I’m not entirely alright. But I’m also not up for picking apart all the reasons why, especially not whilst sat here in the office.’
‘Oh, but this is such a place of comfort and joy. Why not explore your deepest feelings in this safe space? Mind the cactus. And the shredder.’
Lolly smiled, in spite of herself. She and Beth had worked together for about a year, not long and yet they got on really well. They chatted about life outside of work with openness. Apart from today. Lolly wasn’t up for chatting about it today. Not least because Beth had no children and was desperate for them and hearing Lolly pining for a third might seem a little insensitive. ‘It’s fine, it’s nothing. Kitt’s being a pain in the arse and I’m knackered, that’s all.’
‘Ahhh. I get that. I’ve decided I’m not going to talk to Si any more.’
‘That might impact on baby making.’
‘Yeah, well, I don’t have to talk to him to have sex. At least that way he can’t piss me off. It’s a win-win.’
‘What’s he done now?’
‘Oh, you know, just suggesting that maybe part of the problem is my age.’
‘Woah… that’s a bold statement from a man kissing forty.’
‘I know, right. I pointed out that I am ten years his junior and most definitely not out of my prime and then he mentioned something about Kirstie Allsopp banging on about women who wait to have children and I decided I’d quite like to smash him in the face.’
‘Kirstie Allsopp? I thought she was houses?’
‘Yes, she is. Also wombs. And women who leave them to ferment.’
‘Ferment?’
‘Maybe that’s not the word she used. The point is, she has an opinion and Si thinks it’s gospel.’
‘Is that because he’d like to have sex with her?’
‘More than likely. Men are so shallow.’
‘Says the woman with a picture of Idris Elba on her laptop.’
‘That is not shallow, that is…’ peering at it ‘… yeah… totally justified.’
Lolly’s phone pinged a message. ‘Oh!’
‘What?’ Beth reached into her top drawer for a few stashed away mini eggs. ‘You want one?’ she offered.
‘No, ta. Well. That’s a nice surprise.’
‘What is?’
Lolly read the message again.
It was so nice to see you the other day. How about that coffee? And what about the other girls? Are you still in touch with Jess or Amanda? We should all get together!
‘Come on, Lol, what’s nice?’
‘This. A blast from the past.’
‘Oh?’ Beth shoved another three mini eggs in before shutting the drawer. ‘Don’t let me have any more of those today.’
‘Ah, shut your face. Eat what you want. Have you heard of Emily Nance?’
‘Uhm… no… I don’t think so…’
‘She’s done a few films and a bit of TV in America mainly, I think. I grew up with her. There were four of us who basically travelled through most of our teens together. Well, except that she moved away when we were about sixteen, I suppose. Pretty much cut all ties. It upset us at the time, but probably wasn’t her fault. No social media back then. Anyway, I bumped into her in Truro the other day.’
‘Cool. God, I’d love to see some of my old schoolmates. Not all of them… some of them were dicks, but some of them… Oh, it’s been more than five minutes, we need to get back to Rhona.’
‘Yeah. Come on, I’ll message her later. It’d be nice though, to catch up. See what we’re all up to.’
‘Unless you quickly realise why you all lost touch,’ pointed out Beth. ‘What if they’re all psycho, or this actor one is a total luvvy? What if one of them is a serial killer?’
‘I do not have serial killer ex-friends.’
‘Well, they’re hardly going to tell you that, are they?’
‘Beth, you’re an idiot. Come on.’ Lolly shut the office door behind them. ‘No, it’d be great. What can possibly go wrong?’
Emily
That would be amazing, I’d love to catch up with you all. Coffee sounds good, unless you fancy something a little stronger?
Emily was quick to type back.
Coffee’s good.
She paused over the keyboard, should she explain why? What if she decided not to keep it, which was still a possibility? Would Lolly judge? Would any of them. Shit, what was she thinking? Meeting up could be a terrible idea. What if they all hated each other and it got awkward? Or hated her? She’d gone so quickly. Totally failed to keep in touch. It didn’t seem as if Lolly was upset with her the other day, but what if the others were? Would an apology be enough to get them back in her life?
I’m off the drink. Bit of a detox. I’ll have decaf and avoid the cake.
She read it back, Christ, she sounded like all of the fun.
Unless they have biscotti. I love biscotti.
She wasn’t sure this addition made her much more appealing, but she’d clicked send before she could think twice and at the end of the day, she didn’t actually have to have decaf. Or biscotti. She slammed the laptop shut, then yelped at the sight of a face peering in at the window. ‘Shit!’
‘Sorry,’ said the man, nose to glass. ‘I tried knocking, I don’t know if you heard? Mum said you would defo be in… sorry…!’ His face was turning a gentle shade of pink and Emily felt bad for the drama. She hopped off the stool and jogged over to the door.
‘I was just bringing you some of this,’ he said, flustered.
‘Come in, come in.’ Emily ushered him in quickly, before carefully peering to check if anyone had seen him arrive, contradicting her fear of paparazzi by inviting in a stranger. ‘Quickly.’
‘Oh, right. Okay. I’m in, I’m in.’ The man stood in her hallway, now more bright red then gentle pink. He stared at the film and theatre posters on her walls, then back to Emily before offering up the box. ‘Mackerel.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Erm… Dad said you wanted mackerel. Sorry it’s taken so long, I didn’t get back out on the boat ’til this morning.’
‘Oh, yes. Fish. Mackerel. Oh! Junior. You’re Bill Junior.’
‘Yes.’
‘Lovely.’
They paused, looking at each other.
‘So… do you want some of the fish…?’
‘Oh! Yes. Right. Of course. Thank you.’ Emily went to take the box off him.
‘No, no. I’ll put it down for you. Where do you want it?’
‘Right, okay, sure. Down here?’ She jogged down the steps to the kitchen. ‘Mind your head.’
‘Shit.’ Bill Junior dropped the box on the table and rubbed his head where he’d obviously cracked it on the low beam.
‘Shit, sorry. Are you okay? I’ve got ice…’ The poor bloke was now basically purple. ‘Oh god, shall we start again?’
He rubbed at his head and laughed good-naturedly. ‘That sounds like a plan.’ They paused, awkwardly. ‘I’m Bill Junior, but most people call me Mac.’
‘Of course they do.’
‘Because of the fish.’
‘The fish?’
‘The… mackerel…’ he said, as if having to spell it out, pointing at the box of fish.
Emily laughed this time. ‘Jesus. Starting again didn’t really help, did it?’
‘I guess not.’ Mac rubbed at his head again. ‘How big is the bump?’
Emily’s hands flew to her stomach before she realised he was talking about the bump on his forehead. She peered at the perfect egg shape that was forming beneath his thick black curls. ‘Yeah… that’s…’
‘Like a comedy bump to the head?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Good. Good. Look, I’d better go. Where do you want these?’
Mac opened the box up to show beautiful, silvery fish with crystal clear eyes and stripy, marble markings along their backs.
‘Oh!’
‘What?’
‘They’re… whole?’
‘Erm… yes. Fresh. Caught this morning.’
‘Right.’ Emily had never gutted fish before. Fish gutting was a job for the men in the house, not for Emily or her mum. That’s what her dad always said. Not that he did much fishing to bring the fresh stuff back. It was usually to show off to his London lawyer friends, rather than a regular occurrence because he actually liked fishing. He’d take them on a boat he’d bought but barely used. They’d go out all day, back when the tide returned. They’d gut the fish down in the boat shed before bringing them up for her mother to cook.
‘You do know what to do with them, right?’
It was Emily’s turn to colour up now. ‘Well, no… actually. I’ve never had to do it before.’
‘Oh, okay. I just assumed. Never mind… shall I…?’ He looked at his watch.
‘Oh no, no. Don’t worry. I can probably find it on YouTube or something.’
‘Nah… I’ll do it, YouTube tutorials are all well and good but… well, I’ve got time.’ Mac smiled at Emily. His eyes crinkled at the edge. They made him look warm and friendly. He didn’t have a beard as such, but he’d definitely not shaved for several days. He had a thick blue cable knit jumper with a hole on one elbow and a leather patch on the other. There was the faint aroma of fish about him… it wasn’t the most attractive smell but Emily assumed he must have been on the boat, come back and been delivering, and perhaps not had time to shower yet. ‘Too good to gut wrong.’
‘Right.’
‘So, I need a wooden chopping board and a sharp knife.’
Emily spun round, looking at her kitchen. Wondering where either of those things might be. She opened a few drawers, pushing them closed again. ‘I’ve been away. I’m not sure… any over there?’ Mac started opening drawers himself, eventually finding the knives before Emily got to them. ‘Oh, great, there you go,’ she said, then spotting a chopping board down the side by the microwave. ‘Here’s the board.’
‘Brilliant. Okay. So, the tip is, let the knife do the work. Don’t force it or you’ll butcher the fish. Take the knife just behind the gills first, on either side, until it won’t go any further. Then you snap and pull the head so it takes most of the guts with it.’ Emily’s mouth started to water and not in a good way. She reached to open a window. ‘Then you feel for the spine, taking the tip of your knife on one side, letting it run down the back until… Emily?’
Emily had disappeared. Emily had her head down her downstairs toilet. It seemed Emily’s baby was not a fan of filleting fish.
Jess
Jess topped up her wine. She’d been reworking her CV, something she’d not had to do for about eight years. She’d written paragraphs. Deleted them. She’d written more paragraphs, then deleted them again. She’d tried bullet points but couldn’t sum all her experience up in single sentences. She’d gone back to paragraphs before opening the Rioja and staring at her laptop screen. Facebook was still full of dead celebrities which kept sending her down internet rabbit holes that included old episodes of Bullseye and the joy of satin pink jump-suits and enormous eighties hair. She wondered if anyone had ever won a speedboat and, if so, where the hell had they put it since most contestants appeared to live on the poverty line. Her daydream was interrupted by Lolly.
Emily messaged!
Shit.
So we were thinking we’d go for drinks at The Old Grammar School. Unless you can think of anywhere else? Maybe Sunday? Did I ask if you’re in touch with Amanda? I think she’s still down here but don’t know where she lives. Can you get a message to her or shall I track her down?
Jess hadn’t seen Amanda since their early twenties, after she’d got back from travelling. They’d met up a few times back then. Amanda had always had Zennor in tow though and Jess got frustrated at being unable to talk to her, which, looking back, she felt bad about now. Somehow, at the time, it felt as if Amanda was judging her. As if becoming a mother had catapulted her superiority. Jess didn’t like the scrutiny and Amanda seemed to have put up a barrier. She thought back to the last time they saw each other. They’d gone for coffee at the garden centre and the whole conversation was stilted, interrupted by Zennor’s needs. She must have been about two, walking, jabbering, running off all the time.
Would it have been different if Lolly had been there? She’d have kept things flowing, she’d have asked all about Jess’s travels and Amanda’s new life as a mum, she had no filter, she always asked the questions nobody else dared. But she’d been working full-time up at Treliske by then. Her career just beginning. Jess was envious of how grown up it seemed to go out to work each day, to get a monthly pay packet. Apparently Lolly had a little flat in Truro, a share with some other girls so Amanda said. Amanda too, lived in her own place. They were both being grown-ups and Jess remembered how it appealed. It was the catapult to push her to take her first job in marke
ting, up in Manchester. An ad agency. Feeling out of place in Cornwall, she’d been drawn by the adventure of a big city, shops and money. Though now she realised that perhaps she’d used it as an opportunity to run away. Again. She had a habit of doing that. Was it time to stop?
She reread Lolly’s message. Tapping out a response.
I’m not in touch but let me see if I can find her.
She poured herself another glass of wine. She didn’t usually drink on a weekday but tonight was an exception. She was three days into working full-time with Jay and it was proving hard. Too hard. He was smart and funny, just like he’d always been. The team loved him. They’d had a meeting with one of Jess’s clients today, handing them over to Jay. The client loved him too, he’d had some great ideas, really innovative. He’d got them to agree to increase their advertising spend and, in turn, generated an uplift in income for the business. It was thrilling for Jess to see him settle in and be so great at his job but it hurt too. He was chatty with her, friendly, they’d catch each other’s eye from time to time and though she always turned away, she wasn’t sure if he did the same. She couldn’t work out if him being attentive to her every word was because he wanted to learn, or something else. She hung onto his phone calls to Niamh, waiting to hear him tell her he loved her, something to remind Jess that he was happily married, and felt conflicted when the words didn’t come because perhaps he still had feelings for her. She built a taller, thicker wall.
Would the girls understand? Would time apart freshen up their friendship? Could she confide in them about this? What advice would they give?
She typed Amanda’s full name into Facebook’s search function. Several came up, but the one at the top was undoubtedly her. Flame-red hair, full curls and a face of make-up and mischief. Jess clicked on her picture. Her Facebook account was full of call-outs for charity, links to petitions for causes she seemed to believe in, a few photos of her with her cat, with friends of all ages. A busy life, full of love and positivity.
Her Best Friend's Secret: A gripping, emotional novel about love, life and the power of friendship Page 6
