25.
Jess
Ed lay propped against the pillows, watching her do her makeup, painting out the bruises on her face with a little tube of concealer. She had just about covered the blue bruise on her temple where her head had bounced off the airbag. But her nose was purple, the skin stretched tight over a bump that hadn’t been there before, and her upper lip bore the swollen, oversized look of a woman who had ill-advisedly indulged in backstreet fillers. ‘You look like someone punched you in the nose.’
Jess rubbed her finger gently over her mouth. ‘So do you.’
‘It did. My own car, thanks to you.’
She tilted her head, gazing at his reflection behind her. He had this slow lopsided grin, and his chin was a giant bristly shadow. She couldn’t not smile back.
‘Jess, I’m not sure there’s really any point trying to cover it. You’re going to look bashed up whatever you do.’
‘I thought I’d tell your parents, sorrowfully, that I walked into a door. Maybe with a bit of a furtive sideways look at you.’
He let out a sigh and stretched, closing his eyes. ‘If that’s the worst they think of me by the end of today, I suspect I’ll be doing quite well.’
She gave up on her face, and shut her makeup bag. He was right: short of spending the day pressed against an ice-pack, there was little she could do to make it look less battered. She ran a speculative tongue over her sore upper lip. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t feel this when we were … well, last night.’
Last night.
She turned and crawled up the bed until she was lying full length along him. She knew this man. She knew every inch of him. She couldn’t believe that they had not even properly met each other a week previously. He opened his eyes, sleepily, reached out and toyed lazily with a lock of her hair.
‘That’ll be the sheer power of my animal magnetism.’
‘Or the two joints and a bottle and a half of Merlot.’
He hooked his arm around her neck and pulled her into him. She closed her eyes briefly, breathing in the scent of his skin. He smelt pleasingly of sex. ‘Be nice,’ he growled softly. ‘I’m a bit broken today.’
‘I’ll run you a bath.’ She traced the mark on his head where it had hit the car door. They kissed, long and slow and sweet, and it raised a possibility.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Never felt better.’ He opened one eye.
‘No. About lunch.’
He looked briefly serious, and let his head fall back on the pillow. She regretted mentioning it. ‘No. But I guess I’ll feel better when it’s done.’
She sat in the loo, agonizing in private, then rang Marty at a quarter to nine and told him she had something to sort out and that she would now pick the children up between three and four. She didn’t ask. From now on, she had decided, she was just going to tell him how it was going to be. He put Tanzie on the phone and she said nothing about the evening but demanded to know how Norman had coped without her. The dog was stretched out in front of the fire, like a three-dimensional rug. She wasn’t entirely sure he’d moved in twelve hours, apart from to eat breakfast.
‘He survived. Just.’
‘Dad said he’s going to make bacon sandwiches. And then we might go to the park. Just him and me and Nicky. Linzie’s taking Suze to ballet. She has ballet lessons twice a week.’
‘That sounds great,’ Jess said. She wondered whether being able to sound cheerful about things that made her want to kick something was her superpower.
‘I’ll be back some time after three,’ she said to Marty, when he came back on the phone. ‘Please make sure Tanzie wears her coat.’
‘Jess,’ he said, as she was about to ring off.
‘What?’
‘They’re great. The pair of them. I just –’
Jess swallowed. ‘After three. I’ll ring if I’m going to be any later.’
She walked the dog, left him stretched out in the front room, and when she returned Ed was up and breakfasted. They drove the hour to his parents’ house in silence. He had shaved, and changed his T-shirt twice, even though they were both exactly the same. She sat beside him and said nothing, and felt, with the morning and the miles, the intimacy of the previous evening slowly seep away. Several times she opened her mouth to speak and then found she didn’t know what to say. She felt as if someone had peeled a layer of skin off her, leaving all her nerve endings exposed. Her laugh was too loud, her movements unnatural and self-conscious. She felt as if she had been asleep for a million years and someone had just blasted her awake.
What she really wanted to do was touch him, to wind her hand into his, to rest a hand on his thigh and yet she wasn’t sure whether, now they were out of the bedroom and in the unforgiving light of day, that was appropriate any more.
She wasn’t sure what he thought had just happened. And she was afraid to ask.
Jess lifted her bruised foot and placed the bag of frozen peas back onto it. Taking it off and putting it back on again.
‘You okay?’
‘Fine.’ She had mostly done it for something to do. She smiled fleetingly at him and he smiled back.
She thought about leaning across and kissing him. She thought about running her finger lightly along the back of his neck so that he would look over at her like he had the previous night, about undoing her seatbelt and edging across the front seat and forcing him to pull over, just so she could take his mind off things for another twenty minutes. And then she remembered Nathalie, who, three years previously, in an effort to be impulsive, had given Dean a surprise blow-job while he was driving the truck. He had yelled, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ and ploughed straight into the back of a Mini Metro, and before he’d had a chance to do himself up, Nathalie’s aunt Doreen had come running out of the supermarket to see what had happened. She had never looked at Nathalie in quite the same way again.
So maybe not. As they drove she kept stealing looks at him. She found she couldn’t see his hands without picturing them on her skin, that soft mop of hair travelling slowly down her bare stomach. She thought about the smell of him, the tough muscle and the smooth skin of him. Oh, God. She crossed her legs and stared out of the window.
But Ed’s mind was elsewhere. He had grown quieter, the muscle in his jaw tightening, his hands a fraction too fixed on the wheel.
She turned to the front, adjusted the frozen peas, and thought about trains. And lampposts. And Maths Olympiads.
I am the woman who doesn’t need a relationship, she told herself. I have simply confused myself by stirring up hormones, like a sort of needy soup.
I am the woman who does not get involved. And, frankly, there’s enough that’s complicated around here right now without this adding to it. It’s just a few days out of my life. Jess gazed out of the window and repeated the words silently until they ceased to have any meaning.
Ed’s parents lived in a grey stone Victorian house at the end of a terrace, the kind of street where neighbours try to outdo each other with the neatness of their window boxes, and the recycling bins are hidden when not in use. Ed pulled up, let the engine tick down, and gazed out of the window at his childhood home, the freshly painted gate, and the lawn that looked as if somebody had been over it with nail scissors. He didn’t move.
Almost without thinking, she reached out and touched his hand and he turned to her as if he’d forgotten she was there. ‘You sure you don’t mind coming in with me?’
‘Of course not,’ she stuttered.
‘I’m really grateful. I know you wanted to get the kids.’
She rested her hand on his briefly. ‘It’s fine. Let’s get it over with.’
They walked up the path, and Ed paused, as if checking what he was wearing, then knocked sharply on the front door. They glanced at each other, smiled awkwardly, and waited. And waited some more.
After about thirty seconds, he knocked again, louder this time. And then he crouched to peer through the letterbox.
He straightened up and reached for his phone. ‘Odd. I’m sure Gem said the lunch was today. Let me check.’ He flicked through some messages, nodded, confirming it, then knocked again.
‘I’m pretty sure if anyone was there they would have heard,’ Jess said. The thought occurred, in passing, that it would be quite nice just for once to walk up to a house and have a clue what was happening on the other side of the door.
They started at the stuttering sound of a sash window being raised above their heads. Ed took a step back and peered up at next door.
‘Is that you, Ed?’
‘Hi, Mrs Harris. I’m after my parents. Any idea where they are?’
The woman grimaced. ‘Oh, Ed dear, they’ve gone to the hospital. I’m afraid your father took ill again early this morning.’
Ed put his hand up to his eyes. ‘Which hospital?’
She hesitated, as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t know.
‘The Royal, dear. It’s about four miles away if you head for the dual carriageway. You want to go left at the end of the road …’
He was already stepping away. ‘It’s okay, Mrs Harris. I know where it is. Thank you.’
‘Give him our best,’ she called, and Jess heard the window being pulled down. Ed was already opening the car door.
They reached the hospital in a matter of minutes. Jess didn’t speak. She had no idea what to say. At one point she ventured, ‘Well, at least they’ll be glad to see you,’ but it was a stupid thing to say and he was so deep in thought that he didn’t seem to hear. He gave his father’s name at the information desk and they traced him to Victoria Ward. ‘You know where Oncology is, yes?’ the receptionist added helpfully, looking up from her screen. Ed flinched visibly at the word.
They entered a steel lift and travelled up two floors. The doors opened, and the sign for the ward was in front of them. Ed gave his name on the intercom, cleaned his hands with the antibacterial lotion by the door and, when the doors finally clicked open, she followed him through.
A woman walked down the hospital corridor towards them. She was wearing a felt skirt and coloured tights. Her hair was cut in the short feathery style that women use when they insist they’re too busy to worry about their hair.
‘Hey, Gem,’ he said, slowing as she drew near.
She looked at him, disbelieving. Her jaw dropped and for a moment Jess thought she was going to say something.
‘It’s good to s–’ he began. From nowhere, the woman’s hand shot out and she smacked him hard. The sound actually echoed down the corridor.
Ed staggered backwards, clutching his cheek. ‘What the –’
‘You fucking wanker,’ she said. ‘You fucking, fucking wanker.’
The two of them stared at each other, Ed lowering his hand as if to check for blood. Her jaw was clenched, as if she were waiting for him to say something, do something, but he did nothing.
She shook her hand then, staring at it as if she had surprised herself, and then after a moment, she held it gingerly towards Jess. ‘Hello, I’m Gemma,’ she said.
Jess hesitated, then shook it carefully. ‘Um … Jess.’
She frowned. ‘The one with a child in need of urgent help.’
When Jess nodded, she looked her up and down slowly. Her smile was weary, rather than unfriendly. ‘Yes, I rather thought you might be. Right. Mum’s down the end, Ed. You’d better come and say hello.’
‘Is he here? Is it Ed?’ The woman’s hair was gunmetal grey, pinned up in a neat twist. ‘Oh, Ed! It is you. Oh, darling. How lovely. But what have you done to yourself?’
He hugged her, then pulled back, ducking his face when she tried to touch his nose, and giving Jess the swiftest sideways look. ‘I … I walked into a door.’
She pulled him close again, patting his back. ‘Oh, it is so good to see you.’
He let her hold him for a few minutes, then gently disentangled himself. ‘Mum, this is Jess.’
‘I’m … Ed’s friend.’
‘Well, how lovely to meet you. I’m Anne.’ Her gaze travelled briefly over Jess’s face, taking in her bruised nose, the faint swelling on her lip. She hesitated just a moment, then perhaps decided not to ask. ‘I’m afraid I can’t say Ed’s told me an awful lot about you but he never does tell me an awful lot about anything, so I’m very much looking forward to hearing it from you.’ She put her hand on Ed’s arm and her smile wavered a little. ‘We did have a rather nice lunch planned but …’
Gemma took a step closer to her mother and began rummaging around in her handbag. ‘But Dad was taken ill again.’
‘He was so looking forward to this lunch. We had to put Simon and Deirdre off. They were just setting out from the Peak District.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jess said.
‘Yes. Well. Nothing to be done.’ She seemed to pull herself together. ‘You know, it really is the most revolting disease. I have to work quite hard not to take it all personally.’ She leant into Jess with a rueful smile. ‘Sometimes I go into our bedroom and I call it the most dreadful names. Bob would be horrified.’
Jess smiled at her. ‘I’ll give it a few from me, if you like.’
‘Oh, please do! That would be wonderful. The filthier the better. And loud. It has to be loud.’
‘Jess can do loud,’ Ed said, dabbing at his lip.
There was a short silence.
‘I bought a whole salmon,’ Anne said, to nobody in particular.
Jess could feel Gemma studying her. Unconsciously she pulled at her T-shirt, not wanting her tattoo to show above her jeans. The very words ‘social worker’ always made her feel scrutinized, as if the woman had already worked out where Jess came from and was assessing her.
And then Anne had moved past and was holding out her arms. The hungry way she pulled Ed to her again made Jess wince a little. ‘Oh, darling. Darling boy. I know I’m being a terrible clingy mum but do indulge me. It really is so lovely to see you.’ He hugged her back, his eyes raising to Jess’s briefly, guiltily.
‘My mother last hugged me in 1997,’ murmured Gemma. Jess wasn’t sure she was aware that she had said it out loud.
‘I’m not sure mine ever did,’ Jess said.
Gemma looked at her as if she’d forgotten she was there. ‘Um … about the whole whacking-my-brother thing. He’s probably told you what I do for a living. I just feel obliged to stress that I don’t usually hit people.’
‘I don’t think brothers count.’
There was a sudden flicker of warmth behind Gemma’s eyes. ‘That’s a very sensible rule.’
‘No problem,’ Jess said. ‘Anyway, I’ve wanted to do it quite often myself over the past few days.’
Bob Nicholls lay in a hospital bed, a blanket up to his chin and his hands resting gently on its surface. It was clear from the pallor of his skin and the way the bones of his skull were almost visible that he was not a well man. His breathing was laboured and his head swivelled slowly towards the door as they entered. An oxygen mask sat on a bedside table, and two faint indents on his cheek told of its recent use. He was painful to look at.
‘Hey, Dad.’
Jess watched Ed struggle to hide his shock. He stooped towards him and hesitated, before touching his father lightly on the shoulder.
‘Edward.’ His voice was a croak, but there was still something weighty within it.
‘Doesn’t he look well, Bob?’ said his mother.
His father studied him from under shadowed lids. When he spoke, it was slowly, and with deliberation, as if he had an allotted number of words to use.
‘No. He looks like someone beat the living daylights out of him.’
Jess could see the new colour on Ed’s cheekbone where his sister had hit him. She found herself reaching unconsciously towards her injured lip.
‘Where’s he been, anyway?’
‘Dad, this is Jess.’
His father’s eyes slid towards her. His eyebrow lifted a quarter of an inch. ‘And what the hell happened to your face?’ he whispered to her.
‘I had an argument with a car. My fault.’
‘Is that what happened to him?’
She didn’t blink. ‘Yes.’
He regarded her for a moment longer. ‘You look like trouble,’ he said. ‘Are you trouble?’
Gemma leant forwards. ‘Dad! Jess is Ed’s friend.’
He dismissed her. ‘If there’s one small advantage to having very little time left then surely it’s that I can say whatever I like. She doesn’t look offended. Are you offended? I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name. I don’t seem to have any brain cells any more.’
‘Jess. No. I’m not offended.’
He kept staring.
‘And, yes, I probably am trouble,’ she said, holding his gaze.
His smile was slow to arrive, but when it came she could see, fleetingly, how he must have looked before he got ill. ‘Glad to hear it. I always liked girls who were trouble. And this one has been head-down in front of a computer for far too long.’
‘How are you, Dad?’
His father blinked. ‘I’m dying.’
‘We’re all dying, Dad,’ Gemma said.
‘Don’t give me your social-worker sophistry. I am dying uncomfortably rapidly. I have few faculties left, and very little dignity. I will probably not make the end of the cricket season. Does that answer your question?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Ed said quietly. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been.’
‘You’ve been busy.’
‘About that …’ Ed began. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets. ‘Dad. I need to tell you something. I need to tell you all something.’
Jess stood up hurriedly. ‘Why don’t I go and get us some sandwiches? Leave you to talk.’
Jess could feel Gemma assessing what she knew. ‘I’ll get drinks too. Tea? Coffee?’
Bob Nicholls’s head turned towards her. ‘You’ve only just got here. Stay.’
Her eyes met Ed’s. He gave a tiny shrug, like it was really not going to make any difference.
‘What is it, dear?’ His mother put a hand out to him. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. Well. I’m sort of fine. I mean I’m healthy. But …’ He swallowed. ‘No I’m not fine. There’s something I have to tell you.’
‘What?’ Gemma said.
‘Okay.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Well, here it is.’
‘What?’ said Gemma. ‘Jesus, Ed. What?’
‘I’m being investigated for insider trading. I’ve been suspended from my company. Next week I have to go to a police station where I will in all likelihood be charged and I may go to prison.’
To say the room fell silent was an understatement. It was as if someone had come in and sucked out all the available air. Jess thought she might pass out briefly from lack of oxygen.
‘Is this a joke?’ said his mother.
‘No.’
‘I really could go and get some tea,’ Jess said.
Nobody paid her any attention. Ed’s mother sat down slowly on a plastic chair.
‘Insider trading?’ Gemma was the first to speak. ‘This – that’s serious, Ed.’
‘Yeah. I do get that, Gem.’
‘Actual insider trading, like you see on the news?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘He’s got good lawyers,’ Jess said.
Nobody seemed to hear.
‘Expensive ones.’
His mother’s hand had risen halfway to her mouth. She lowered it slowly. ‘I don’t understand. When did this happen?’
‘A month or so ago. The insider-trading bit, anyway.’
‘A month ago? But why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped you.’
‘You couldn’t, Mum. Nobody can help.’
‘But prison? Like a criminal?’ Anne Nicholls had gone quite pale.
‘I think if you’re sent to prison you pretty much are a criminal, Mum.’
‘Well, they’ll have to sort it out. They’ll see that there’s been some kind of mistake, but they’ll sort it out.’
‘No, Mum. I’m not sure it’s going to work out like that.’
There was another long silence.
‘Are you going to be all right?’
‘I’ll be fine, Mum. As Jess said, I have good lawyers. I have resources. They have already established that there was no financial gain for me.’
‘You didn’t even make money out of it?’
‘It was a mistake.’
‘A mistake?’ said Gemma. ‘I don’t get it. How do you do insider trading by mistake?’
Ed straightened his shoulders and gazed steadily at her. He took a breath, and his gaze flickered towards Jess. And then he looked up at the ceiling. ‘Well, I had sex with a woman. I thought I liked her. And then I realized she wasn’t who I thought she was and I sort of wanted her to go away without it all getting messy. And what she wanted to do was travel. So I made a snap decision and told her a way I thought she could make a little extra money to pay off her debts and go travelling.’
‘You gave her inside information.’
‘Yup. On SFAX. Our big product launch.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Gemma shook her head. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’
‘And my name hasn’t come out in the press yet. But it will.’ He put his hands into his pockets and looked steadily at his family. Jess wondered if only she could detect that his hand was shaking. ‘So … um … that’s why I haven’t been home. I was hoping I could keep it from you, maybe even sort it out so that you didn’t have to know anything about it. But it turns out that’s going to be impossible. And I wanted to say I’m sorry. I should have told you and I should have spent more time here. But I – I didn’t want you to know the truth. I … didn’t want you to see what a mess I’d made of everything.’
Nobody spoke. Jess’s right leg had begun to jiggle involuntarily. She found a really interesting bit of skin beside her thumbnail and tried to make the jiggling stop. When she finally looked up, Ed was staring at his father. ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’
‘You’re not going to say anything?’
Bob Nicholls lifted his head slowly from his pillow. ‘What do you want me to say?’
Ed and his dad gazed at each other.
‘You want me to say you’ve been an idiot? I’ll say you’ve been an idiot. You want me to say you’ve ballsed up a brilliant career? I’ll say that too.’
‘Bob …’
‘Well, what do you –’ Abruptly, he started to cough, a hollow, rasping sound. Anne and Gemma lurched forward to help him, handing over tissues, glasses of water, fussing and clucking like a pair of hens. It was as if everyone was grateful for being given something to do.
Ed was standing at the foot of his father’s bed.
‘Prison?’ his mother said again. ‘Actual prison prison?’
‘That’s what he said, Mum.’
‘But this is awful.’
‘Sit down, Mum. Deep breaths.’ Gemma steered her mother into a chair.
Nobody moved towards Ed. Why didn’t somebody hug him? Why could they not see how alone he felt right at that minute?
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.
Nobody seemed to hear.
‘Can I say something?’ Jess could bear it no longer. She heard her voice, clear and slightly too loud. ‘I just want to tell you that Ed helped my two children when I couldn’t. He drove us the length of the country, because we were desperate. As far as I’m concerned your son is … wonderful.’
They all looked up. Jess turned to his father. ‘He’s kind, smart and clever, even if I don’t agree with all the things he does. He’s nice to people he barely knows. Insider trading or no, if my son turns out half the man your son is then I’ll be very happy. More than happy. I’ll be ecstatic.’
They were all staring at her.
She added: ‘And I thought that even before I had sex with him.’
Nobody spoke. Ed stared fixedly at his feet.
‘Well,’ Anne gave a faint nod, ‘that’s, er, that’s …’
‘Enlightening,’ said Gemma.
Anne’s voice tailed away. ‘Oh, Edward.’
Bob sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Let’s not get all Hollywood about this.’ He opened them again and signalled for the head of the bed to be raised a little. ‘Come here, Ed. Where I can see you. Wretched eyesight.’ He motioned for the glass again and his wife held it to his lips.
He swallowed painfully, then tapped the side of his bed, so that Ed sat down on it. He reached out a hand and rested it lightly on his son’s. He was unbearably frail. ‘You’re my son, Ed. You might be idiotic and irresponsible, but it doesn’t make the slightest difference to what I feel about you.’ He frowned. ‘I’m pissed off that you could have thought it would.’
‘I’m sorry, Dad.’
His father gave a slow shake of his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t be much help. Stupid breathless …’ he pulled a face, then swallowed painfully. His hand tightened around Ed’s. ‘We all make mistakes. Go and take your punishment, then come back and start again.’
Ed looked up at him. And Jess saw the boy he must have been: hurt, desperate for his father’s approval. And determined never to let that show.
‘Do even better next time. I know you can.’
It was at that point that Anne started to cry, abrupt, helpless tears that she buried in her sleeve. Bob turned his head slowly towards her. ‘Oh, darling,’ he said softly. And that was where Jess acknowledged that she had finally become an intruder. She opened the door silently and slid out.
She put some credit on her phone in the hospital shop, texted Ed to say where she was, and waited in A&E to get her foot looked at. Badly bruised, said a young Polish doctor, who didn’t bat an eyelid when she told him how she had done it. He strapped it up, wrote a prescription for strong painkillers, handed her back her flip-flop, and advised her to rest. ‘Try not to kick any more cars,’ he said, without looking up from his clipboard.
Jess hobbled back upstairs to Victoria Ward, sat on one of the plastic chairs in the corridor, and waited. It was warm and the people around her spoke in whispers. She may have nodded off briefly. She woke abruptly when Ed emerged from the room. She held out his jacket and he took it without a word. A moment later Gemma appeared in the corridor. They stood facing each other silently. His sister put her hand gently to the side of his face. ‘You bloody idiot.’
His head dipped, hands shoved deep in his pockets, like Nicky.
‘You stupid bloody stupid idiot. Call me.’
He pulled back. His eyes were red-rimmed.
‘I mean it. I’ll come with you to court. I might know some people in probation who could help get you into an open prison. I mean, you’re not going to be category A, as long as you haven’t done anything else.’ Her eyes flickered towards Jess and back to him. ‘You haven’t done anything else, right?’
He leant forward and hugged her, and maybe it was only Jess who noticed the way his eyes closed really tightly when he pulled away.
They emerged from the hospital into the luminous white of a spring day. Real life, inexplicably, seemed to have continued regardless. Cars reversed into too-small spaces, buggies were disgorged from buses, a workman’s radio blared as he painted a nearby railing. Jess found herself taking deep breaths, grateful to be away from the stale, medical air of the ward, the almost tangible spectre of death that hung over Ed’s father. Ed walked and looked straight ahead. He reminded her, briefly, of Nicky before they had come here, when all his energies seemed to be focused on showing nothing, feeling nothing. They crossed the car park until they reached his car and he paused. The doors unlocked with an audible clunk. Then he stopped. It was as if he couldn’t move. He just stood there, one arm slightly outstretched, staring blankly at his car.
Jess waited for a minute, and then she walked slowly around it. She took the key fob from his hand. And, finally, when his gaze slid towards her she went to him and slid her arms tight around his waist. She held him until his head came slowly down to rest, a soft, dead weight, upon her shoulder.