Page 67 of Strap In
Aaliyah’s back is to Jean as she straightens the piles on her father’s desk, slotting bookmarks to save each place and stacking the tomes. ‘I don’t know what kind of magic you’ve worked on Evie. But when I tucked her in, you were all she talked about. Well, you and the cake.’
‘Oh.’ Jean looks down at the hand Evie had taken automatically, as if there wasn’t a single reason in the world she shouldn’t trust this particular grown-up. ‘She’s a sweet girl.’
Aaliyah turns at last, lips quirked. ‘Not usually. Most people can’t get more than two words out of her.’
‘I find that hard to believe. My sister always said I was terrible with kids.’
‘I don’t think so. You talk to her with respect, and you listen like you’re taking her seriously. I’ve tried to raise her to know her own worth, but little girls don’t get enough of that, especially the brown ones.’ Aaliyah shakes her head, as if dispelling unwanted thoughts. ‘Anyway, my daughter would be delighted to see more of you, if you ever fancied stopping round for dinner. Or coming along with Ava when she visits.’
A beat. From this distance, Jean can just make out a catchy refrain from theHamiltonsoundtrack – without her sister there to contest song choice, Ava is making the most of her freedom.
‘I think it would make my sister happy too.’
Jean swallows. ‘Aaliyah, I don’t know what exactly Ava has told you about our… situation, but—’
Aaliyah cuts her off with a laugh. And though the register is familiar, it’s entirely devoid of her sister’s warmth. ‘She didn’t have to tell me anything. All our lives we’ve always known precisely what the other was thinking. Plus, it’s written all over her face. Every single time she looks at you.’
Fondness, yes, but not what Aaliyah is suggesting. ‘We’re not actuall—’
‘No, I’m talking now. And you’re listening.’ Aaliyah steps closer, her face in shadow. Her scent’s unlike Ava’s too, a sophisticated floral number from Yves Saint Laurent. ‘My sister can be very… gallant. For a lesbian feminist in the twenty-first century, she has these old-fashioned ideals about chivalry. Ava is ridiculously kind and generous, and she would do anything for the people she… the people she cares about.’
Aaliyah pauses here, and Jean nods. She absolutely recognises Ava from the portrait her sister paints.
‘Most women Ava’s dated have taken advantage of that, in one way or another. Which has led to her getting hurt. That’s why Ava decided not to get… entangled with anyone while she’s setting up the CJC. It’s too important for her to risk getting distracted, or so she said.’ Aaliyah tilts her head, as if looking at Jean for the first time. ‘But then my sister met you. And all that resolve went out the window.’
‘I wasn’t looking for anything beyond the transitory when I met Ava,’ Jean offers. ‘And while we’ve reached a more lasting… arrangement, we’re friends more than anything else.’
Even without a light source to illuminate her features, Jean can tell she’s not impressed. Aaliyah folds her arms. ‘If you want to be with Ava properly, great. You two would have my full support. But don’t leave her hanging in some in-between place. Don’t mess with her feelings just because she puts yours first. Don’t treat my sister like she exists just to add spice to an otherwise straight life.’ Aaliyah’s voice drops to an angry hiss. ‘And don’t youdarelet her fall for you if you’ve got no intention of loving her back. Are we clear?’
Jean can only nod. The truth of it fixes her in place like venom. Aaliyah passes her by, and a moment later the door falls shut behind her. As soon as she’s alone, Jean slumps into the leather office chair, cool against the backs of her knees. There she sits, as if by staying perfectly still she need not move into a future shaped by Aaliyah’s words.
Until her phone beeps, startling Jean out of her reverie. She’d set it to silent after calling Peter, forgetting that she’d altered the parameters of Do Not Disturb to allow Rhona’s messages through anytime, day or night. Sure enough,Rhona Bairdlights up the screen. They haven’t spoken since Jean fled yesterday and, while she’s clearly getting on with Amari, it’s entirely possible the junior associate feels abandoned.
So, Jean takes a deep breath. And another. And opens the message.
Hi Ms Howard,
I hope you don’t mind me getting in touch. I just wanted to thank youagain for taking me along yesterday. Mr Decker said that you were takingannual leave – and while I’m sure you’ve got better places to be, Iwanted to remind you that the offer of my parents’ beach house byCramond still stands. They’re heading for the States to visit mybrother, so it’ll be free all summer. You’re welcome any time, and youcan bring a friend too – there’s a guest room. I’ll text you the codefor the key safe.
Either way, have a good break.
With the greatest of respect,
Rhona
The screen blurs. Jean drops the phone on the desk and covers her face. She’d assumed that Amari’s politeness continued in part because Rhona had refrained from bad-mouthing her, suspecting unerring professionalism to be the prime motive. But the sincerity in Rhona’s message goes beyond anything Jean had allowed herself to hope for.
The door creaks open, and Jean scrubs the back of her hand across both cheeks. But not fast enough to keep Ava from seeing her tears.
‘Hey.’ She kneels before Jean, peering up at her through concerned eyes. ‘Laila said she saw you and Aaliyah go in here together – did she say something to upset you?’
Jean shakes her head. ‘No, no. Nothing like that. She wanted to thank me for how I was with Evie.’
Ava’s mouth twists. ‘Then why are you sat here crying in the dark? If you tell me what else Aaliyah said, we can go now, and I’ll talk to her later.’
She’d do it, too; risk the other half of her heart to make things right for Jean. Aaliyah’s words echo in her ears, ringing with truth.Don’t mess with her feelings just because she puts yours first.
‘It wasn’t Aaliyah, and it’s not sad crying.’ Jean passes Ava her phone. ‘Look at this.’
