Page 23 of When We Were Friends
‘Jamal’s a bright lad. The other day, he said it made a big difference having someone believe in him.’
‘You,’ she said.
‘His parents both have… issues. He doesn’t blame either of them, both come from a difficult background, but coming to the hub is the first time he’s ever felt that someone saw his potential. It sounds like his teachers wrote him off as lazy or stupid but I think he’s just never had the support at home. A large part of his school’s catchment is from a much wealthier area. When he started there in Year Seven, he says it was hard for him to even explain that he had no internet, no real work space, he slept on the sofa…’ Felix ate the bread. ‘Jamal slipped big news to me tonight. He’s built up the courage to ask out a girl he’s fancied for ages.’ Felix explained how the lad had asked his advice about where to take her for a first date. Felix stopped talking for a moment. The Gorton hub where he’d been tonight was going to be the first one to close if Dubai didn’t come off, then the one in East London, after that Sunderland. He sighed and put down his bread. ‘Sorry, wrapped up in myself. What are your plans for this week without your husband around to blather on about his job?’
Carefully, she wiped her mouth with the linen napkin. Paige would tell him everything as soon as he got back from Dubai, but that didn’t lessen her guilt.
‘I’m actually spending time with M…’Morgan. She so wanted to tell him the truth. ‘With…myself, on trips to the shops where I’ll enjoy leisurely coffees, reading, when I’m not working – and imagine, the duvet, just for me. Bliss.’
Felix reached for her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the palm. ‘Everything’s all right, isn’t it?’
Paige mentally checked her body language. Shit. She was actually rubbing her nose, a sure giveaway of a liar. Her shoulders were hunched, she’d dropped her gaze, and her voice had become breathless…
She lay both her hands flat on the table. ‘Never better,’ she said in a steady tone and, with full eye contact, gave him a big smile.
Felix cocked his head and scanned her face before picking up his fork to eat the now-cold goulash.
* * *
France. With Morgan, Paige and Tiff. How was this happening? Emily pulled down an old suitcase from the loft and dragged it into the bedroom. Her chest twinged but not from the exertion. There was something from their schooldays that Emily had hidden from the others, not to do with Hugo. Something so big, it had overwhelmed her in 2004. She should have told them then, but it had been too hard and the prospect of telling them the truth felt no easier nineteen years later.
The doorbell rang, shaking her out of the past.
‘Who the hell’s calling by at this time on a Friday night?’ she said to Smudge, who was asleep on a pillow. Ten o’clock. Normally, she’d be asleep on the sofa by now but she’d not needed wine to escape her life this evening. Tomorrow, she’d be escaping for real.
She sloped downstairs, opened the front door.
‘Lewis?’
‘I was passing, after my shift.’
‘Just happened to be in the area, right?’ she said and folded her arms. She wouldn’t let herself be moved by the shadows under his eyes, deeper than ever, the raggedy nails he never used to bite; wouldn’t let herself invite him in, put her arms around his. Caring got you hurt, her mother had taught her that. ‘What do you want?’
He edged forwards.
She sighed. ‘You can’t stay long. I’m busy. Off to France tomorrow.’
‘Yeah, right, and I’m having afternoon tea at Buckingham Palace,’ he replied as he followed her into the kitchen and slumped at the breakfast bar.
Emily held the kettle mid-air. ‘Do you want a coffee or not?’
He threw his keys down, next to her passport. Lewis raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re not joking about this trip? But why? How?’
‘I’m fine thanks, Lewis, nice of you to ask.’
Lewis took off his hi-vis jacket. The bottle-green paramedic’s uniform always had suited him. He leant his elbows on the bar.
‘I can see how you’re doing,’ he said and he looked around the lounge, with the takeout boxes on the floor and days’ worth of newspapers scattered across the furniture, next to empty mugs and plates. ‘How’s the counselling going?’
She sat down next to him and slid over a coffee. ‘How’s work?’
‘Tonight, I got called a black bastard by a man who objected to my siren, even if it had meant getting his neighbour’s heart beating again. Elsewhere, a patient blamed me for her husband’s death a few months back, because he had a stroke on one of the strike days.’
‘This is why you should jack it in. I’ve never been happier since leaving nursing.’
‘Looks like it,’ he said and waved his arm around. ‘So, France… a new man?’
Emily looked shocked and then started to laugh, tears running down her cheeks. ‘Oh Lewis, I did need that.’ She wiped her nose. ‘But no, I don’t want to be with anyone at the moment. Just as well. With no job or prospects, I’m hardly dating material.’
