by Anna Maxted
He says:
‘Helen, I wanted to talk to you about my girlfriend.’
The End.
The soppy grin taking shape on my face vanishes like a lemming off a cliff, and I scramble angrily to my feet. ‘Thank you,’ I hiss, ‘but I don’t want to know.’
Tom says, ‘No, wait, Helen!’ and tries to grab my arm but I shake him off and hobble to the gate. My dramatic exit is scuppered somewhat when I skid on the chicken carcass, but I manage to regain my balance, and storm towards the Toyota. ‘Helen, please!’ shouts Tom, as I jiggle the key in the lock. Why do I bother? I want someone to steal this car, they’d be doing me a favour, I think miserably.
‘Oh go IN!’ I roar at the key. Tom catches up as I wrench open the door, which hits him on the knee. Good.
I slam the door.
‘Helen!’ he gasps, as I turn on the ignition. ‘I made her up!’
What.
I wind down the window.
‘What!’ I screech.
Tom assumes the expression of a puppy that has just weed on a sofa. He mumbles, ‘I was going to tell you but I was embarrassed.’
‘I would be,’ I say sternly.
Tom sighs and adds, ‘I was a berk.’
‘You said it!’ I crow.
‘Luke didn’t blurt it out then?’ mumbles Tom.
‘Certainly not,’ I say, blushing.
Tom purses his lips and looks sorrowful. ‘I was jealous,’ he says, eyes lowered in penitence.
‘Really,’ I say primly.
‘Of Jasper—’ he says, wincing.
‘Jasper—’ I begin.
‘I know that now,’ says Tom.
I turn off the ignition.
‘Thanks,’ says Tom, ‘I’m choking to death out here.’
I smile.
‘I’m sorry,’ says Tom.
I nod regally.
‘Do you forgive me?’ says Tom.
I raise an eyebrow. (Well, I try to, I’ve never quite mastered it and forcibly holding down the other eyebrow detracts from the allure.)
‘Depends,’ I say.
Tom squats so his face is level with mine.
‘On what?’ he whispers.
‘On how many other lies you’ve told,’ I say tartly.
‘That’s the only one!’ he cries. ‘I’m a very honest person!’
‘Are you sure?’ I say. ‘This is important.’
Tom pauses. Then he says, ‘When I was twenty, I um, used to tell women I was a Navy diver. Does that count?’
‘Should I stay or should I go,’ I murmur.
Tom rests his arms on the Toyota’s window frame.
Then he leans in and hugs me and drags me out through the window!
‘The Dukes of Hazzard’s lazy cousin,’ I say, clinging on.
‘You stink of old egg,’ says Tom, tightening his grip.
‘That’s too honest,’ I say, wriggling free.
I gaze at Tom, he gazes back, and we both blush.
In the silence that follows, I squeeze my hands into fists to give myself courage.
‘Tom,’ I say slowly, ‘I never told you.’
‘What did you never tell me?’ he says softly.
‘About my father,’ I say. I smile tightly and nod, more to myself than Tom. ‘You helped me,’ I say. ‘Really, you did.’
Tom looks stunned. ‘What did I do?’ he gasps. ‘You helped you.’
I bite my lip. ‘All the same,’ I say, ‘you said things that helped.’
Tom says, in a whisper that’s barely there, ‘I was out of my depth.’
Shakily, I say, ‘So was I.’
Tom says, ‘I wanted to make it better. I knew I couldn’t,’ – his voice cracks – ‘but I so wanted to.’
I can’t speak for a second. Then I say, ‘You didn’t try to, to distract me.’
Tom gulps. ‘There was so much pain trying to get out,’ he says.
I wince. ‘Better out than in,’ I murmur.
‘You,’ says Tom, ‘are stronger than you think.’
I shake my head. ‘I couldn’t face it,’ I say falteringly. ‘Not for a long time. Not brave at all.’
Tom looks straight at me and replies, ‘Strong, I said. “Brave” is different. Overrated.’
He lifts a hand and strokes my face. Then he gestures to his front door.
‘Helen, do you want to come in and, um, I’ll make us some coffee?’ he says finally.
‘Yes. Yes please,’ I reply.
‘How’s your leg?’ he asks.
‘Not great,’ I say.
‘As a doctor,’ says Tom suddenly, ‘I don’t think you should drive with a bad ankle.’
‘Sorry, do I look like a chinchilla?’ I say.
But I smile as I say it.
Acknowledgements
So many people to thank: Phil Robinson for his love and jokes, Mary Maxted for courage and insight, Leonie Maxted for Russians and encouragement, Caren Gestetner for kindness, Jonny Geller for being the best agent ever, Lynne Drew for exquisite editing, Andy McKillop for excusing the missing chapters, Wendy Bristow for friendship, Emma Dally for pushing me into it, Jo Kessel for knowing everyone, e.g., Dr Michael Kessel, Dr Maurice Cohen for noticing the full catheter, Mark Curtis for explaining probate, Jeanette King for wisdom, Andy Robinson for the HK information, Evelyn Smith for expecting a novel from me since I was eight, Daniel Silver who doesn’t wear Joop!, Jason P. Worsnip for being fabulous. Also enormous thanks to: everyone at Random House, Laura Dubiner, Mandi Norwood, Margaret Carruthers, Sarah Vassel, Heather Blackmore, Sybil Sipkin, Paul Bern, Paul ‘TCB’ Burke, Hudson and Gina Britton, Sasha Slater, Anna Moore, Lisa Sussman, Grub Smith, Alicia Drake-Reece, Martin Raymond, Dr Raj Persaud, Christabel Hilliard, Lynne Randell, Women In Need, Sam Leek, and James Buchanan.
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Epub ISBN: 9781446493618
Version 1.0
Reissued by Arrow Books in 2004
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Copyright © Anna Maxted 2000
Jumping figures: Getty Images
Anna Maxted has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
First published in the United Kingdom in 2000 by Arrow Books
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Arrow Books is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780099410188
