Chapter 25
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yep.’
‘Jess, I don’t mean are you OK as in OK to play. I’m talking about what happened this afternoon.’ The minute I pulled up in the sports club car park and exited the car, George was there, at my side, almost as if he’d been waiting for me.
‘Have you been waiting for me?’ I asked, curious.
‘Well, yes.’ George appeared slightly awkward. ‘I needed to know if you were hurt.’
‘You needed to know?’ I shot George a look. ‘Whether whoever chucked the brick through The White House window got a bullseye, you mean?’
‘What?’ George stared back at me. ‘No, I needed to know if you were OK!’
I lifted the hand holding my hockey stick in his direction, showing several sticking plasters on my fingers. ‘I’m fine. Really. Fabian got the worst of it.’
Fabian’s dark hair had been full of glass, and Kamran and I had had to pick out pieces of it, his face and arms cut. ‘Have you seen him?’ I asked.
‘Who?’
‘Fabian.’
George shook his head. ‘Why would I? I was concerned for you.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose one doesn’t really expect to be covered in shards of glass as one is showing off one’s puds. It doesn’t happen on MasterChef!’
‘But you’re OK, Jessica?’ George moved nearer, peering at me, taking in every aspect of my face, actually lifting a strand of escaped hair before placing it behind my ear until I stepped back in some embarrassment at his proximity.
‘I’m fine, George, really. I’m here, I’m ready to play. You don’t have to worry…’
George shook his head. ‘Kamran messaged me to tell me what had happened.’
‘Oh? Why?’
‘We’re in business together. He’s my brother.’
‘But you’re not having anything to do with The White House, are you?’ I stared. As far as I knew, this was one pie in the multitudinous Sattar Empire that George didn’t have a finger in.
‘All our businesses are under one umbrella. In the same way, if windows had been put in at St Mede’s school, I’d have informed Kamran and my other brothers. As a family, we’re all in this together.’
‘Then Kamran’ll know St Mede’s windows – according to Robyn – regularly have stones thrown at them.’
‘All the more reason for the place to come down then.’
‘I disagree…’
‘So, what do you think’s going on then?’ George said, coming to a standstill but ignoring my sentiment regarding Robyn’s school.
‘The thing is, a flat tyre is just bad luck. Four flat tyres and you’ve got a problem.
Four slashed tyres and a broken window and someone is trying to tell you something. ’
‘Oh, you know about the tyres?’
George nodded.
‘Tell who something?’ I asked when he said nothing further.
‘Us.’
‘Who’s us?’ I stopped walking myself, turning to George.
George tutted. ‘You know – The White House, the Sattars, Fabian Carrington. You.’
‘Me? What have I done wrong?’ I looked at him in surprise.
‘Who knows? Have you pissed anyone off recently?’
‘Apart from my husband? Oh, and my eleven-year-old daughter?’
‘So, perhaps just Fabian then? You don’t think someone is trying to tell Fabian to back off?’
‘Back off from what? The White House?’
‘Jessica, I followed the Soho Slasher case on TV and in the papers like everyone else. There are still a lot of trolls out there who haven’t forgiven Fabian Carrington for taking on the defence of a rich, spoilt, evil kid who had raped and tortured ten women.’
‘But that was a year ago. And in London. He went through hell with protestors constantly outside his apartment door and his chambers, throwing eggs and rotten tomatoes at him, putting dog shit through his letter box. And if someone was trying to frighten him off, wouldn’t they have wrapped a note round the brick, saying something like: We know where you are… or… or… something?’
‘You’ve been reading too many kids’ comics.’ George smiled and not for the first time, I saw what a lovely face he had when he wasn’t being, well, George. ‘Trolls have long memories,’ he went on. ‘The only pleasure in their sad little lives is causing harassment…’
‘Alarm and distress?’
‘Sorry?’
‘It’s an offence: harassment, alarm and distress.
’ I pulled a face, remembering. ‘Dean once ended up taking some woman to the magistrates’ court when she wouldn’t leave him alone, pestered us, sent him hundreds of messages a day, was always parked outside our house.
He ended up having to take out a restraining order against her. ’
‘In favour of that husband of yours?’ George stared. ‘I can see he’s quite a good-looking little chap, but…’
‘Little chap?’ That made me laugh. ‘Yes, well, quite a few years ago now. He was always starting things with women he fancied and not being able to finish them…’ I trailed off, not wanting to open up about Dean.
‘But you stayed with him? Why?’ George paused. ‘When he’d put you in such an unforgiveable situation? Actually, don’t answer that,’ he went on. ‘I get it.’
‘Really? You get it why I’m such a pushover? No one else does.’ I looked away.
‘When you love someone… you know… I’m sorry.’ George appeared genuinely sorry on my behalf. ‘No one deserves that sort of behaviour…’
‘Jess! Jessica!! Come on, we’re ready.’ Both Serena and Carole Traynor were shouting, waving their sticks at me. ‘Get a move on. Get out on this pitch. Now!’
‘Hell, not a good start.’ I turned towards the waving women, but George put a hand on my hand.
‘Listen, Jessica, I’m taking the Under 11s for footie practice now…’
‘Oh, I thought you just liked flashing your knees and wearing a whistle round your neck.’ I smiled.
‘…but afterwards, would you do me a favour?’
‘A favour?’
‘Jess, come on, or I’m sending you off even before you’re on…’ Carole’s strident voice drifted over.
‘D’you have to get back? To your little girl?’
‘No, Lola’s out with Dean. She’ll probably end up sleeping over at Mum’s place…’
‘At Kamran’s?’
‘Sorry, no. Mum’s old place. The cottage next to mine. Dean’s there now.’
‘Is he?’ George stared. ‘You’re no longer with him then?’
I shook my head. ‘Long story…’
‘Jess. Come on!’ More shouting from the pitch.
‘So, listen, would you come to see a house with me?’ George asked.
‘A house?’
‘Look, we both need to get out there…’ He waved at a gaggle of kids who were waiting for him over on the adjacent football pitch. ‘The thing is, I need advice on the kitchen.’
‘What?’ I frowned. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I’ll explain after the practice. See you in The Dog and Duck? Mine’s a Coke.’
He ran off towards the group of kids who were now shouting en masse for him from the other side of the car park, their voices competing with those shouting for me from the hockey pitch.
I ran too.
* * *
‘Are you meeting someone? Budge up.’ Serena elbowed me out of the mirror where I was applying a second coat of mascara. ‘Two coats? Signifies a date.’
‘Signifies eyelashes that need two coats.’ I laughed.
‘D’you know if George Sattar is going across to the pub?’ Serena looked hopeful. ‘If he is, it’s two coats for me as well.’ She reached for her bag.
I smiled at that but said nothing further. Serena leaned back, eyeing me critically from behind. ‘You’ve lost weight!’
‘I have actually. Over a stone.’
‘What’s the secret?’
‘My life!’ I laughed again.
‘You’ve been on Tinder, haven’t you?’ Serena elbowed me in the ribs. ‘Getting yourself prepped and ready for what’s in store?’
‘No, I haven’t.’ I shook my head. ‘Not had time…’
Serena tutted in exasperation. ‘You should always make time for a social life. And, when you do, make sure you have a pack on you,’ she advised as we walked across to the pub.
‘I don’t smoke,’ I said. ‘Although, to be honest, if I ever do get round to a date, I’d be so nervous, I’d wish I did… Ah, not…?’
‘No, Jess, not cigarettes. You see,’ she added sagely (as if we were back in Year 7 once more and she was explaining, as she had, to a wide-eyed gaggle of us in the school canteen over sausage and chips, the apparent intricacies of fellatio), ‘men don’t always take responsibility for their sexual health. As such, we need to do it for them.’
‘I can assure you, particularly on a first date, there will be no need to be even considering such things.’
‘Ah, that’s what you think,’ Serena said smugly. ‘Being out of practice, as you so obviously are, you’ll have forgotten what it’s like…’ She broke off as we were about to go into The Dog and Duck, hearing running behind us.
‘Shall we get straight off, Jessica?’ George, his hair still wet from the shower, joined us at the pub door. ‘Unless you’re desperately thirsty of course?’
‘No, that’s fine.’ I smiled, turning away from the pub, ignoring the look on Serena’s face.
‘I’ll ring you,’ she said pointedly.
‘You do that.’ I laughed. Actually, probably a bit mean to laugh; I should have explained George was just using me in an advisory capacity.
‘You smell nice,’ George said as he opened the car door for me. ‘Jo Malone? Orange Blossom?’
‘Well done.’ I was impressed.
‘Mina’s choice of perfume.’
‘Right. My Christmas present from Robyn and Fabian…’ I trailed off.
‘Nice couple,’ George said. ‘Not easy for Robyn teaching at St Mede’s with what’s going on at the moment.’
‘With what’s going on? You mean you and your family’s intention to pull the place down and build another Frozen factory?’ I said, my tone accusatory.
‘I actually meant with the place going down the toilet. The kid’s accident can’t have helped?’ George reversed and exited the car park at speed.