Chapter Seven
The café had a few outdoor tables, and I was there early enough to snag one ahead of the Saturday morning brunch crowd.
I fiddled nervously with the menu in its stand and rearranged the bowl of sugar sachets and the condiments so many times I fully expected the waitress to swoop down and take them from me.
He’d been shocked to hear from me when I’d phoned this morning and hadn’t bothered disguising it with his opening words.
‘Well, hello there, stranger. It’s been so long, I was beginning to think you’d died.’
I deserved that one, so I didn’t tell Jackson that two days ago I very nearly had. That would have just been mean.
‘What’s it been? Nine months since we’ve heard from you? Were you going for some sort of record?’
I bit my lip guiltily because that was a hell of a long time to ignore your friends, and also because I had no recollection of when exactly we’d last been in contact.
‘Something like that,’ I mumbled.
It might have been even longer if it hadn’t been for Rhys.
When he’d called the previous night to arrange our ‘definitely not a date’, one of the pubs he suggested was a place I used to visit all the time with Jackson.
The memory had caught me off guard, and I was sleepy, which perhaps was why I accidentally let slip that I’d not seen either of my two closest friends for longer than I cared to remember.
‘Why?’ Such a reasonable question, but I had no acceptable answer to give him.
‘Like I said, I’ve been kind of absorbed with work for a while now. The business was taking off, and keeping the social media side of it going takes up practically all my free time.’ I gave a wry laugh. ‘I guess I pushed some things onto the back burner.’
‘Things like your friends?’ Strangely there’d been no judgement in his tone, as though he understood the trap I’d fallen into. But that didn’t change how bad I felt about neglecting the two people who’d always been there for me.
‘Why don’t you reach out to them now?’ It was a good question, and one I’d already asked myself about a thousand times.
‘Because they’re going to be mad that I’ve ghosted them for so long.’
‘And will that get better the longer you keep up the silence?’
He had me there. ‘No. It’ll just get harder as even more months slip by.’
‘I can’t tell you what to do, Ellie,’ Rhys said, in a way that made me realise – as if I hadn’t already worked it out – that he must be a really good dad. ‘But I think that’s your answer right there. It will be even worse if you let those months slide into years.’
That had shocked me and been the prod I’d needed to finally set aside my fears and contact my friends to do some serious grovelling.
I tried Mel first, because those bonds were stronger, and the roots of our friendship went deeper.
Perhaps that’s the way it always is with the first friendly face you find on Day One at university.
There’ll always be an unbreakable connection with the person who’d unfailingly held back your hair when you’d drunk too much cheap cider, and who’d venture out in the middle of the night to buy paracetamols for your crippling stomach cramps.
They would always be your forever person .
. . even if you hadn’t spoken to them in what felt like forever.
Mel hadn’t picked up, and the horrible suspicion that she’d seen my name on her caller ID and chosen not to answer crept into my head and refused to leave. I left a message – knowing it was still antisocially early to be phoning anyone.
Four hours later, when I’d still heard nothing from her, I’d called Jackson.
‘It would be great to meet up for a coffee sometime,’ I said hesitantly, never for a moment anticipating his reply.
‘I could do today.’
I swallowed down a gulp of surprise.
‘Perfect. I’m free too,’ I replied hurriedly, giving him no chance to change his mind.
He strode across the car park towards me now, and I sprang to my feet.
His hair was a little longer and scruffier than I remembered, and the new style really suited him, as did the neatly trimmed beard he was sporting.
Was that new, or had he had it the last time I’d seen him?
My patchy memory is so much worse than ‘normal’ amnesia, I thought, giving the word the kind of air quotes I had always hated.
I knew how many sugars Jackson took in his coffee, that he was allergic to shellfish, and snored like a rhinoceros after only a couple of beers.
But I had no idea when our last conversation had been. Or whether he was still mad at me.
He came to a stop beside my table, not reaching for me. The hug I’d been so ready to give him suddenly felt awkward as my arms dropped disappointedly back to my sides.
‘You look good,’ I said, nervously shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
He surveyed my face, as though compiling an inventory of my features.
‘You look tired.’
I took comfort in the fact that he was pulling the friends don’t lie card rather than just opting to be polite.
‘I didn’t sleep well.’
He nodded solemnly and for one awful moment I wondered if our entire meeting was going to be like this.
‘I’ve . . . I’ve ordered us coffees,’ I said, my eyes darting to the restaurant entrance. ‘And pie,’ I added, because Jackson’s sweet tooth was something else my Swiss cheese brain had decided to retain.
‘Pie,’ he repeated.
I licked my lips anxiously. ‘Yes. Apple for you and humble for me.’
There was a long moment when I thought I’d played it all wrong. That it was too soon for humour. But then he snorted out a laugh and shook his head almost in disbelief. It gave me a glimmer of hope.
‘I hope you intend to pick up the tab,’ he said, still maintaining a frosty wall, even though it was slowly starting to melt around the edges.
‘For now, and evermore,’ I said, not even joking.
Another long moment and then thankfully, remarkably, and with a generosity I didn’t deserve, he opened his arms to me. I flew into them.
He brought them into a clasp behind my back and I buried my face into his shirt front, knowing it was going to be damp when we eventually drew apart.
‘This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,’ he said, even while his hand was rhythmically patting my shoulder.
‘I know,’ I told his shirt buttons.
‘I just can’t cope with the drama of a feud.’ He tightened his hold, and the hug hurt my heart almost as much as it did my ribs. But I took it as an unspoken reassurance that although we weren’t mended yet, this could be fixed over time.
We broke apart when a subtle cough from the teenage waitress announced the arrival of our order. We waited until she’d transferred cups and plates onto our table.
‘You really did order pie,’ he said in surprise, reaching for a fork and one of the generous slices. ‘Damn it, I may have to forgive you even sooner now.’
‘Please do,’ I said, and although it was meant to be banter, there was no hiding the genuine plea in my eyes.
‘So how are things, Ellie? How’s the business going?’
‘Okay,’ I said.
Jackson’s eyebrows rose and disappeared into his new shaggier hairstyle. ‘That’s it? No blow-by-blow account of your latest big sale? No update on the number of Instagram followers you now have, or TikTok engagement?’
His words stung like lemon juice in a cut.
‘Was I really that self-absorbed?’
He gave a very Jackson shrug. ‘You were very . . . focused,’ he said, softening the comment by adding: ‘You wanted to make it a success, and kudos to you, you did. I bet your mum’s proud.’
The tears were unexpected, and I furiously blinked them away.
‘Yeah, she probably is. I think sometimes when you focus so hard on one thing, it stops you seeing whatever else is going on around you.’
‘So, how’s your vision these days?’ Jackson asked, giving me a look.
‘It’s getting sharper.’
‘Good to hear,’ he said, lifting the second plate with a flourish and waving it towards me.
I shook my head. ‘No thanks. I bought both of them for you.’
He took a large mouthful of the second pie before asking, ‘Is the IT system I set up for you still working, or have you found yourself a new computer nerd to fix it when it goes down?’
‘I could never find a nerd to replace you,’ I said, tentatively dipping my toe back into the ebb and flow of our banter. It felt like putting on a comfortable pair of slippers. ‘You’re the best geek around.’
‘Damn straight,’ he said with a wink, running his left hand ostentatiously through his hair.
‘I like the new look, by the way,’ I said, touching my own chin. Jackson mirrored the movement, deliberately stroking the short facial hair as though petting a small animal.
The penny took a long time to drop, and when it did my cry of surprise had heads turning our way from nearby tables.
‘Jackson Winter, what is that?’
My friend’s face split into an enormous grin.
‘Thank fuck for that. I thought you were never going to notice. Could I have been any more obvious?’
My smile almost matched his as I snatched up his left hand and drew it across the table towards me. I touched the band of gold on his ring finger as though it might be a mirage, but it certainly felt solid beneath my fingertips.
‘You’re married. You got married. You’re a husband,’ I said, my head shaking in wonder. ‘Who is he? Do I know him?’
Jackson looked momentarily disappointed in me. ‘Of course you know him.’
For one dreadful moment my memory was a blank. I could remember a succession of short-lived partners, but no one serious in my friend’s life. And then, as though nature had taken pity on me, it threw me a lifeline, parting the fog in my brain.
‘It’s Lars, isn’t it?’
If Jackson’s grin got any bigger, someone was going to have to call the Guinness Book of Records.
The tall, handsome Dutchman who was now, incredibly and amazingly, married to one of my best friends, floated back into my memory banks. See, said a small reassuring voice inside my head. The memories aren’t lost, after all. They can still be retrieved.
‘But didn’t the two of you only meet last October? That’s so quick.’
Jackson gave the kind of smile that only someone in love can summon.
‘When you know, you know.’
‘I’m so happy for you.’ I scrambled out of my chair and round the table to give him another hug. ‘Congratulations to you – to both of you.’ I gave the shoulder I was hugging a small shove. ‘But I wish you’d invited me to the wedding. Even if I have been the world’s shittiest friend.’
‘Actually, no one came to the wedding,’ he reassured me as I retook my seat. ‘Well, apart from Elvis, that is.’
‘You got married in Vegas?’ My voice had risen to an incredulous squawk.
‘We did. It was all a bit of a wild impulse thing. But neither of us wanted to wait. But we’ll be doing the big two-white-suits thing later this year. You’ll be invited to that . . . unless you’re planning on ghosting us all again, of course.’
‘Never,’ I said with unshakeable certainty.
‘It might be a midweek do, so heads up, you’ll have to take time off work.’
‘That’s fine.’
‘It might even be in Scotland,’ he continued, ‘so you’d be away from the business for several days.’
‘That’s not a problem.’
Jackson leant back in his chair and gave me a long appraising look.
‘Who are you and what have you done with the real Ellie Harker?’
‘Just doing a little makeover and some long overdue renovations.’
I smiled and there was a wistfulness that I couldn’t keep out of my voice. ‘But I am really sorry that I wasn’t around to see you fall in love. I wish I hadn’t missed that.’
‘You didn’t,’ Jackson said. ‘You were there in the bar last October on the night we met. That’s when it happened. Love at first sight.’
‘Is that really a thing?’ I asked and there was an intensity to my question that I think surprised me even more than it did him.
‘The evidence is right here on my left hand,’ Jackson said with a smile.
Two more coffees and half an hour later and I still hadn’t found a way to swing the conversation around to my recent near-death experience.
It didn’t seem to be an appropriate topic for a good-news day, and the relief I felt on deciding to shelve it for another time felt like a boulder rolling off my shoulders.
It was only when Jackson glanced at his watch and declared he really should be getting back to Lars that the question I’d wanted to ask since he first sat down was set free.
‘Is Mel very angry with me?’
Jackson paused for a long moment. ‘You’d have to ask her that.’
‘But you must have spoken to her recently,’ I said, surprised at the sudden stab of jealousy that pierced me.
‘I have, but to be perfectly blunt, Ellie, we didn’t speak about you.’
That stung. A lot. But I let it go.
‘It’s just that I’ve rung her, left a voicemail and a WhatsApp, and she hasn’t answered any of them.’
‘Why the sudden urgency to make contact after all these months? Has something happened?’ he asked astutely, leaning forward as though the answer was right there on my face, if he just stared closely enough. Thankfully, unlike Rhys, I bore no visible signs of what I’d experienced.
‘Nothing has happened,’ I lied. ‘I just wanted to make amends, that’s all. Do you think she’ll let me?’
Jackson gave me a you-should-know-better look. ‘She’s Mel. Of course she’s going to forgive you . . . eventually.’
That made me instantly feel worse rather than better.
Jackson was picking absently at the corner of the menu with his thumbnail, pulling the plastic away from the backing. ‘But she’s been going through some stuff of her own recently, so maybe give her a bit of time before you launch into another bombardment, eh?’
‘Stuff? What stuff? Is she alright? She’s not sick or anything, is she?’
I have no idea why illness was my knee-jerk reaction, but the thought of it collided with my heart like a punch that I couldn’t dodge.
‘No. It’s nothing like that. But she and Steve just needed some time away together. They’ve gone to New York for a bit to get their heads straight.’
I had a million questions, but it was clear Jackson wasn’t going to answer any of them.
‘It’s her news to share, not mine, Ells, you’re just going to have to wait until they get back and then see if she wants to see you.’
‘Do you think she will?’ I asked, sounding more than a little desperate.
His smile was soft. ‘She’s Mel,’ he said, as though that explained everything. And in a way, it did.