Page 47 of Forever, Maybe
“Long retired, sadly,” Bobby said with a sigh. “You’re lucky to see the same doctor twice at the health centre these days. That's if you can get an appointment at all. But what about you? Are you sure you’re alright, love?”
His amber eyes searched hers carefully. He looked as he always had: the grey slacks with their sharp pressed line, paired with a maroon jumper over a white shirt, the fleur-de-lys silk tie and the dark brown loafers. Practical and unchanging.
“I’m fine, Dad. Just tired. I’ve been struggling to sleep.”
Cate, having completed her circuit of the garden, joined them, accepting the Hobnob Nell offered. She broke it in half and dipped one piece into her tea.
“Marlene’s garden,” Cate began, confusing Nell’s neighbour with her own again, “is a lot like the Hardys’. They had those… fuch… pink flowers. And such a neat lawn. You were great friends with their boy, Nell, the one who…” She trailed off, her eyes widening as a light of understanding flickered.
“Oh,” she said, fear creeping into her expression. “We don’t talk about him, do we?”
“No, Mum.” Nell’s voice wavered, a note of panic slipping through. She reached across the table and gently patted her mother’s hand, worried by how startled she seemed. “Please don’t mention them or him in front of Danny, alright?”
“We won’t say a thing, Nell,” Bobby said firmly. Then, as though to steer the conversation, he added, “How is your hubby? Still working all the hours God sends? Your mum and I were in that sandwich shop on Elm Hill the other week. It wasn’t half as nice as the stuff Danny sells. Didn’t we say that, Cate? The bread in your ham sandwich was stale. Stingy portion of ham too—not like theStuffed!sandwiches.”
Cate frowned, momentarily puzzled, before nodding along. More, Nell suspected, to please Bobby than because she remembered the trip.
When Cate excused herself to the bathroom, Bobby leant in closer. “Love, I wasn’t going to say anything, but we ran into the Hardys a few days ago. In Ikea, of all places.”
“How… how are they?” Nell croaked. Sometimes, she struggled to even picture them. Her only vivid memory was of a middle-aged man—maybe Hardy Senior—waving a bottle of red wine at a garden party one summer evening. He’d been reciting a filthy limerick about a woman from Nantucket while the women yelled at him to shut up.
“Old.” He smiled, self-deprecating. “Aren’t we all? Though he could pass for a man in his nineties, and the four of us stood there listing all our ailments for the first ten minutes. No-one said anything about Darren. Do you ever think you should tell—”
Anticipating the suggestion, she leapt in. “No, Dad. We said at the time we never would, didn’t we? Please,pleasecan we not talk about it? Let’s concentrate on Mum.”
He sipped his coffee, the non-reply an indication that he thought the opposite but then Bobby was of that generation of men who left conversations and decisions about the emotional stuff to women. And it was he and her mother who’d suggested the secrecy in the first place.
Through the open windows, they heard doors opening and closing, and someone moving about. Cate must be trying to find the bathroom. Nell heaved herself to her feet.
“I’ll go and help Mum. It’s an age since she’s been here, so no wonder she’s not sure where the bathroom is!”
Bobby nodded. “Yes, love. That’ll be it!”
Her dad’s voice echoed the same artificial brightness. Nell headed back inside the house, thoroughly rattled.
Chapter nineteen
March2000
“You’re early—I’m not even dressed, sorry, and—oh, you’re not Stephanie.” Nell paused mid-sentence as she swung open the flat’s front door. Stephanie was supposed to come over that evening since Danny was working late again. The plan was simple: wine, crisps, dips and a thorough post-mortem of Stephanie’s latest string of dates with a guy she’d met a few weeks ago.
“That, dear lady, I am not.” Jamie Curtice stood there, fanning his hands out theatrically.
He always had that look in his eyes when he saw her—a knowing glint, as if he had X-ray vision and was peeling away her layers, his gaze sliding from her throat, down to her breasts and lingering just a little too long at her crotch.
Nell, wrapped in a fleecy pink dressing gown after her shower, reflexively tightened the cord. “What can I do for you?”
“I was visiting my mate upstairs, but I wanted to talk to you about something, too. Can I come in? I brought wine. Nice stuff, too.” He held up a bottle like a peace offering.
“Stephanie’s on her way over,” Nell replied, hesitating.
Jamie shrugged, entirely unbothered. He wore a suit, the tie loosened and the top button of his shirt undone, giving him a deliberately dishevelled, louche air. “Perfect. I want to speak to her too. It’s a proposition for both of you.”
Nell squinted at him, sceptical.
“Did I say proposition?” He flashed a grin. “I meant proposal.”
“Right,” she said slowly, stepping aside to let him in. “Take a seat in the living room while I get dressed. I won’t be long.”
