Chapter 19
Jess had asked Stan to make enquiries about trains and buses home, but she had seemed so unhappy at the thought of putting the convalescent George through that sort of ordeal that Stan had called in another few favours and had bribed his oldest friend to drive down to Brighton to pick them all up.
Stan looked down at Jess, pale in the fading light; he saw the plait of unwashed hair, her tired, unmade-up face and the fact that she was on the verge of tears.
He loved her so much it that hurt, but would she ever see him as more than just her friend’s annoying little brother?
Being together in Brighton had made him want to be so much more than that.
Willing her to look back at him, Stan took Jess’s hand gently, winding his fingers into hers.
‘Try not to panic, love. We’ll be home in a couple of hours if the traffic’s not too bad, and then you can tuck George up in his little bed and fuss over him to your heart’s content.’
At last Jess smiled up at him. ‘I know I’m being silly, Stan. It’s just… he looks so small and frail today. Maybe I should have left him in hospital for a few more days?’
‘I think they were desperate for his bed, to be honest. The doctors have been making noises about sending him home for days now. He’ll be fine. I’ll help you as much as I can, and your mum will be there all ready to share the clucking, won’t she?’
‘Yes, I think she’s been at Leo’s flat a damn sight more than she’s been at home lately.
She must be really keen on the café project.
I wonder how near to opening we are now.
Mab’s been a bit funny on the phone this last day or two.
She doesn’t really tell me anything these days.
I rang her first thing this morning to tell her we were on our way, in case Mum hadn’t told her yet, and her phone just switched to the answering machine. ’
Stan thought about the situation at the shop, and wondered, not for the first time, how they were all going to get on together, living under the same roof with so many different personalities and relationships to consider.
He was very glad that Sophie and Den were out of the equation; both of them had made Stan feel very uncomfortable, and Stan thought Leo must be quite insane to hook up with a woman whose first thought of the day was of her hair.
He’d really liked Alex, and was sorry that they wouldn’t have the chance to work together.
In the brief time that the brothers had spent in the flat, Stan had found out that Alex was an artist. Signwriting wasn’t Alex’s career of choice at all, apparently, but he had felt honour bound to join the family business, after his dad had spent all that money putting him through art school.
In his spare time, Alex painted delicate, mystical watercolours depicting androgynous figures in bizarre situations.
Before Stan and Jess’s dash to Brighton, Alex had shown Stan photographs of some of his work, and Stan, normally fairly conservative when it came to art, was blown away.
This was the stuff of dreams, or nightmares, and he couldn’t help but feel that Alex’s talents were being wasted painting vans.
He wondered if the bookshop could display some of the less erotic pictures and resolved to speak to Leo about it as soon as possible.
None of the other brothers knew about Alex’s work; he’d told Stan that he painted in secret, in his friend Simon’s attic.
‘Simon loves my paintings,’ Alex had confided, rather shyly, ‘but I haven’t showed them to anyone else in case they felt they’d got to be kind about them. You know how embarrassing it is when someone asks you if you like something that they love and you go, “Erm…” and then get stuck.’
‘Why would anyone do that? These pictures are incredible, mate.’
‘Are they?’ Alex smiled. ‘Really? Even the naked ones?’
‘I wouldn’t give one to my mum, but, yes, even the naked ones. Did you use models?’
‘Yes, but not many people want to do that sort of modelling. It’s quite hard to ask – like, “Hey, mate – do you want to come upstairs with me and take your clothes off for an hour or two? I’ll pay…” Somehow, people don’t feel very comfortable with that.’
‘Hmm, I thought the same face kept cropping up. Is your model… er… a close friend?’
‘Used to be. Not any more though. Or, at least, not in the same way. We’re still friends but I’m trying to find someone else now.’
‘Ah.’
‘You don’t happen to know anybody, do you, Stan?’ Stan had laughed.
‘Not offhand, but if I see any beautiful naked people running around Clayton-on-the-Bream, I’ll give them your number.’
Yes, Alex was intriguing, thought Stan, and Josh was a great kid too.
The youngest Lamb brother was desperate to be a proper part of the family business.
It looked as if he was going to have his wish too.
Alex had kept in touch with Stan since their return to Newcastle, and his texts told of Josh’s growing confidence and hard work.
Harry was going to have to reconsider his plans for the future, Stan thought.
Sometimes qualifications could get in the way of real life.
George murmured in the back of the van, and Jess turned, instantly alert to her son’s needs.
‘You OK, my love?’
‘Are we nearly there yet?’
‘Not far off now, are you warm enough?’
‘Will you come in the back with me?’
‘I can’t, Georgie, I have to be strapped in. You should be too, really, but we thought you were still a bit too poorly.’
‘But it’s boring in the back on my own.’
‘Oh, OK, love. I’ll get Kev to stop in a minute,’ said Jess, crossing her fingers as she spoke.
‘He’ll be asleep again soon, with a bit of luck,’ she whispered to Stan, ‘I hope he’s going to be OK about the flat, and the shop, and everything.’
Stan sighed. He loved George already, but he knew that there would be a huge conflict of interests when George realised, as he soon must, that Stan intended to be a permanent fixture in their lives.
George and his mother shared an unusually strong bond, and a newcomer, however much George enjoyed the skateboarding advice, the rivalry with computer games and the man-to-man chats, would probably be unwelcome.
Stan wondered if Jess was aware of the strength of his feelings for her.
He’d tried to play it down, making himself as indispensable as he could; helping with the strain of hospital visiting, talking to doctors, researching autism on his phone and generally aiming to become such a huge part of her life that she wouldn’t want to be without him.
It was obvious that Jess was beginning to lean on Stan in all sorts of ways; he made her laugh when she was sad or stressed, let her pour out her troubles at any time of the day or night, cooked fabulous risottos and pasta bakes and he could even send her off to sleep playing Marcus’s old guitar and singing a selection of Beatles songs, absorbed over long years of listening to his dad’s old records.
Jess’s favourite was ‘Here Comes the Sun’.
She said it gave her a lovely warm feeling when Stan sang about ice melting and everything being all right.
George woke up again after another fitful doze, so at Stan’s suggestion, they stopped at the motorway services once they’d left the torment of the orbital road and fuelled their driver with a hideously expensive fry-up and about a gallon of coffee in a cup that was more like a bucket.
Kev looked around hopefully to see if a muffin might be available, but George was getting fractious with tiredness and from the pain from his injured leg and arm, so Stan ushered his brood back to the van, and they set off for the last lap of their journey home.
‘When will we be home? I want my bed,’ moaned George, huddling into his blanket. ‘This plaster cast on my leg’s making me itch.’
‘Soon, my love, we’ll be at the shop in about twenty minutes from now,’ said Jess soothingly. George sat up suddenly.
‘The shop? Why are we going there? I said I wanted my bed!’
‘Ah, well, that’s where your bed lives now, George,’ said Stan, seeing Jess’s discomfort. ‘Mum’s going to be working in the shop, making her yummy stuff for the café, and we’re all going to live there from now on to make things easier.’
‘Easier for who? Not easier for me!’ yelled George, furious now. He sat up, eyes glittering. ‘What are you trying to tell me, Dickhead?’
Stan flinched, he thought George had forgotten about this old name. He had been so much nicer to his mother when he was in hospital. George was incandescent with rage now.
‘You’re not saying that my bed isn’t at my proper home any more, are you? Who took it to the stupid shop?’
‘Erm… I’m afraid that was me, mate,’ said Kev, rubbing his ear in embarrassment. ‘I do lots of small removal jobs now, it’s part of my…’
‘Shut up! Move it back, right now. I’m not sleeping in that place. I’ll run away again. That was why I went away last time. I heard her and Grumpy Granny talking about us moving out and… I’m not going, OK? Grrrrrrrrrrrr.’
Stan took a deep breath, knowing that this was make-or-break time. It was never good news when George started his roaring.
‘I see your point, mate, but think of this from a business angle. You and Mum have been skint for ages, haven’t you, and this way she can make lots of money to buy your computer games and things without even leaving home.
But the thing is… and I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, because Leo said it was a secret, actually…
’ he paused, improvising wildly, and George leaned forward, still silent.
‘…the thing is that Leo wants to buy a massive fish tank for the shop and fill it with the most fantastic collection of tropical fish that he can afford. He reckons it’ll be relaxing for the customers to look at.
There’s only one problem though. Oh, hang on, maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this at all… ’