Chapter 51
She was more nervous than she’d ever felt as she ran up to the shelter doors. After a quick change in a hotel toilet, she’d grabbed a cab. All the way back she attempted to type and retype the right message to let Jasper know what she’d done. In the end, she decided the element of surprise might work in her favour; she didn’t want him running off before she got the chance to tell him what she needed to. She found him in the first place she looked, in the office, sat at a desk, blankly staring at a wall.
‘Hey,’ she said.
His head pivoted towards her, incomprehension writ large on his face. He stood up. ‘You’re back?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why? Did he have to go and see his wife?’
It was a cheap shot, but an understandable one.
‘I need to show you something.’ She retrieved the photo of her mum from her handbag and approached him as she might an unexploded grenade.
‘That’s my mum.’
He tentatively took the picture from her outstretched hand. ‘She looks like you.’
‘Looked. She’s dead. She killed herself.’
‘Oh. I’m?—’
‘Don’t say anything. Not yet. I’ve never told anyone this before, and if you interrupt, I might not get it out.’
He looked like he had a lot to say, but he tempered himself. He sat back against the desk. There was barely a foot between them.
‘Okay. I’m listening.’
She looked down at her hands. ‘I think I’m a really bad person,’ she began. ‘I could have saved her, and I didn’t.’
Her fingers blurred and a salty droplet splashed onto her hand. She brushed the tears away.
‘She’d threatened to do it loads of times before. Ever since Dad died. Every time she split up with one of her many boyfriends, every time she didn’t get her own way with something. She said it to doctors, to friends, everyone. She was a drama queen.’
She picked at a nail, tore it down to the quick.
‘She only ever took an interest in my life when something was going wrong in hers. She was less like a mum, and more like the crap friend who ditched you when they got a boyfriend, only to come crawling back after a breakup.’
A saffron strand of blood appeared across the angry pink skin.
‘This particular time, she called and said she was finally going to do it. Told me she had some pills and a bottle of brandy, and that unless I went to see her that night, I would never see her again. I was busy at work – I was always busy at work – and it was easier to assume she was lying. I didn’t go and see her. I didn’t call back later to check on her. I don’t even recall thinking about her again that day. I just had my head down, working on a presentation. I got the call the day after. For once, she was telling the truth. It was her final power play.’
He shifted his weight.
‘Hang on, I’ve not finished. I didn’t even cry when I found out. If anything, I was relieved. At least that’s what I told myself. I threw myself into my work, more so than before, and became fixated on this idea of being promoted. You were right, if I could just get more money, more security, more things, then I’d be whole. And getting a promotion would make sense of her death, wouldn’t it? Make sense of the fact I’d chosen work over her. Like it had to have been worth something, right? I don’t know, you’re the psychologist.’
‘I think…’
‘Wait. I’m not done. I’m not saying this for your sympathy. I’m saying it so you can understand who I really am. I worry that my indifference to her death means I’m incapable of loving anything. I worry I won’t ever be able to let my guard down when it comes to relationships. I worry that I’m going to end up like her: some sad, embittered, lonely old woman. That I won’t ever be able to trust someone enough to truly be vulnerable with them. I worry that I don’t know what real love even feels like. And I worry that a bit of me is broken. Horribly, irreparably, profoundly broken. But if we’re destined to never speak to one another again, I want you to know that I’ve never wanted to believe I might be capable of properly loving someone, that I might just be able to overcome all this stupid fucking prior conditioning, more than I’ve wanted to since meeting you.’
She sobbed, a full stop to her unburdening.
He pulled her towards him, gripping her tightly in his enfolded arms. It felt too good. Tearing herself away from this was going to be harder than telling him had been.
‘I don’t think you’re a bad person,’ he whispered into her hair.
‘Hmm.’
‘You’re here, aren’t you? You came to do something good.’
‘But—’
‘Shhh,’ he murmured. ‘We all have bits that are broken. But one man’s trash…’
It was too much to hope that he thought of her as treasure.
He gently took her chin and raised her face to his. ‘I don’t believe you’re damaged goods, Simone. I think you’re a box marked fragile that deserves to have been handled with far more care.’
She clenched her jaw and let a long breath out of her nose. He was just trying to make her feel better. He still wouldn’t want her in any material sense. She’d shown her hand, and he now knew she was holding nothing but dysfunction and neuroses. This was the moment where he let her go, back to her flat, back to her empty, pointless existence. Only he didn’t. What he actually did was lean down and ever so tenderly put his lips to hers.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered into her mouth.
‘What for?’
‘For being jealous. For being insecure. For saying and doing stupid things because I was feeling jealous and insecure.’
She allowed a tiny chink of optimism to penetrate her emotional armour.
‘But I’m glad you felt that way,’ she whispered back.
She hazarded a kiss, but he pulled away from her. He put his hands on her shoulders and gazed at her intently. Had she blown it?
‘No, Simone. Jealousy. Possessiveness. They’re not necessarily signs someone cares about you. They can be signs someone cares about themselves at your expense.’
‘I know.’
She leaned in, but he continued to hold her away from him.
‘I’m serious. You’re worth more than that. Far more.’
She took in every morsel of his sexy, earnest face. How could she imagine she was incapable of feelings when a torrent of them was raging within her? ‘I know,’ she repeated. She really was starting to know.
He kissed her properly then, an urgent if-I-don’t-do-it-now-I-never-will kiss, one that she repaid with interest. It probably would have gone further, right there in the office, had it not been for Tasha walking in on them.
‘I’m sorry, what?!’ She looked thunderous. ‘Didn’t you fuck off and leave us about two hours ago?’
Of course, she hadn’t even told them what had happened.
‘Shit! Yes! I have some news for you all.’ Her heart quickened with excitement. ‘Tasha, get everyone together in the lounge.’
The girl arched her neck. She was giving off some serious fuck you energy. ‘What did your last slave die of?’
‘It’ll be worth it, I promise.’
Tasha cast Jasper her best Judas vibes. He shrugged.
‘Fine.’ She swung around, braids whipping against her back.
The lounge was like a hospital waiting room, everyone sat exhausted yet expectant on uncomfortable plastic chairs.
Gayle was out of hers the moment she entered. ‘You’re like an unflushable turd.’
‘I know, I know, but give me a second.’
She quickly gave them the very edited highlights. Wolfe was their new sponsor.
Gayle peered at her, doubtful. ‘How the fuck did you manage that?’
‘I’d rather not say.’ She looked quickly at Jasper. ‘It didn’t involve bodily fluids though, I promise.’
‘It’s okay.’
Steve whistled. ‘This reminds me of the time…’ He stopped himself. ‘Actually, this is a pretty unique situation, isn’t it?’
Even Tasha allowed herself a grin at that.
‘So we get to stay?’ asked Hozan.
‘Hozan. You were right when you said your gift was going to save us all. I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I believe this is yours.’ She took the tiny camera out of her bag and handed it to him. ‘Thank you for the loan.’
‘And I was right when I said you were special.’ He placed his hand on her shoulder and said something in a language that she didn’t understand.
‘Is that some wisdom of Rumi?’
‘No, I was saying this calls for a biscuit.’
Gayle appeared at their side. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘I know.’ She expected to be showered with expletive-riddled praise at any moment.
Gayle looked at her earnestly. ‘He’s normally such a tight-arsed bastard with his biscuits.’
Simone laughed.
‘Seriously, though,’ said Gayle, ‘how do we know he’ll follow through?’
‘With the biscuits?’ quipped Tasha. ‘I know where he keeps them if he doesn’t.’ She offered Simone a small smile that hinted very strongly at reconciliation between them.
‘Wolfe’s an asshole,’ Simone said, ‘but he knows a good PR opportunity when he sees one. And if he doesn’t, well, then there’s always the option of blackmailing the council. But we’ve got a while to think about it.’
‘We?’ questioned Gayle.
‘I’ve got nothing else to do at the moment.’
Jasper pulled her to him once more. ‘You’re a very resourceful woman. I’m sure you’ll think of something.’
‘Alright everyone,’ Gayle called out, clearly uncomfortable with their public display of affection. ‘Don’t stand around gawping. This isn’t Gogglebox, and we’ve still got a job list longer than a Gwyneth Paltrow acceptance speech to get through. Hop to it.’
Everyone filtered out, but Jasper wouldn’t let go of her.
‘So, do you want to be my girlfriend?’ he asked. ‘Officially.’
‘What are we, seven?’
She really, really, really wanted to be his girlfriend, but just thinking about seven-year-olds gave her this weird compulsion to remind him that she probably couldn’t have kids. She’d been thinking about it a lot recently. Her feelings for him reminded her of an old neighbour who refused to get her dog neutered, despite it causing unwanted pregnancies in the neighbourhood. The woman’s defence had been that she loved the dog too much, she couldn’t bring herself to – literally – cut off its chance to procreate. At the time, Simone had thought there were billions of dogs in the world, how could that one be so special that you knew it deserved to genetically continue its lineage? But she was starting to understand what the woman meant.
‘Are you sure? What about the whole…’ she gestured to her pelvic area.
‘I want to be with you, you chumnut, not your reproductive capabilities.’
‘But—’
‘How about we cross that bridge when we come to it?’
He made everything sound so reasonable, so drama free. To him, life was a blanket, something to relax under the weight of. To her, it was a starchy duvet cover, something to be wrestled into submission. But he’d said when, not if. Like there was no question that he was in it for the long haul. The idea made her unspeakably happy.
‘Okay,’ she said.
‘Nothing else to add?’
‘No.’
‘Really?’ He placed his palm on her brow. ‘You must be coming down with something. Perhaps you should come back to mine for a little RR. My sister’s away.’
She was starting to flag. It had been a long, long night.
‘Can we watch Midsomer Murders?’
‘Hah! Very funny.’
‘What? I really like cosy detective series. If some fading TV star is getting bludgeoned to death with a Victoria sponge, I’m all in.’
She really did. It was a guilty pleasure she’d never admitted to anyone. It would be like Wolverine admitting he liked knitting.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’
‘Don’t say anything bad about Midsomer Murders.’
‘I don’t need to. It’s all been said.’
‘I’m serious. That’s what you’ve let yourself in for. Every Sunday afternoon.’
‘This relationship is over.’
‘We’re going to have to make polite conversation when I turn up here on Monday.’
‘Okay, I might give you another chance.’
She tugged him towards the door, but he stood his ground.
‘How about we compromise with Inspector Morse?’ he said.
‘How about you do Poirot, I’ll do the Phantom Menace?’
‘Alright, you surprising little creature. It’s a deal.’
‘But first we need to clear up,’ she said.
He groaned. ‘There is such a thing as being too good, you know.’
‘You only have yourself to blame.’ She reached for a sticky-out eyebrow and smoothed it against his face. ‘Kiss me.’
‘You didn’t say please.’
‘Please.’
He pressed his lips to hers and all bodily exhaustion temporarily melted away. Then he kissed her nose.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘The sooner we get it done, the sooner I can get you done.’ His eyes flashed and his mouth set in a wolfish twist.
Damn. She’d been mad to suggest they stay and help. They should be calling a cab and hurtling headlong to his place and all the deliciousness that lay ahead. Instead, she would have to let the flavour of that tender kiss sustain her, for the next few hours at least. She took his hand in hers, felt its thereness, said a silent thanks to the universe that this was how things were unfolding, and headed out to find the others.