Mercury wrestled his arm free. “Fucking hell. He spent a little time in prison.”
“How long?”
“A year.”
“For what?”
“He got in with a bunch of nasty people when he left school. They had him delivering and being security. The police caught him with a gun.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Madeline said, running her hands through her hair. “Delivering drugs, I suppose?”
Mercury had had enough of this conversation. “I don’t think it would be Christmas cards, no.”
Madeline gave him a glare that could be straight from one of her lesser-successful movies. “I suppose there’s no point in me telling you to finish it.”
“None whatsoever. It was years ago and he’s running a youth project, for fuck’s sake. Can’t you see the good in that?”
She stared deeply into his eyes before smiling.
“I will have to try, darling,” she said, squeezing his hands. “It’s a shock, that’s all. Listen, I’ll speak to Jessica about how we manage it, should you want to go down that road.”
Of course she would be primarily worried for her public image. Selfless Madeline Morrison.
“We’re a long way from that,” Mercury said. “I’d like to bring him to your lunch. When you get to know him properly, you’ll see what I see.”
Madeline smiled weakly and very unconvincingly. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”
Mercury kissed her on the cheek and took the bottle of champagne. “Thanks.”
“Cheeky shit,” she said with a laugh.
He went to go but she pulled him close.
“I only want what’s best for you, Mercury. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
What she thought was best for him more like. Mercury wasn’t about to get into all that. He had somewhere to be and bottle of champagne to drink.
“What’s cooking, good looking?” Mercury asked as he followed Nick down the hallway.
The smells coming from the kitchen were amazing.
“Jerk chicken, rice and salad. Just like my mother taught me.”
“I’d love to meet her,” Mercury said, running his hands up Nick’s back and resting them on his shoulder. “I bet she’s different to my mother.”
“Just a bit.”
The kitchen was the same size as at the House although filled with a mishmash of furniture. There were some pictures on the wall of Nick with friends on holidays.
“I don’t know much about your life other than next door,” Mercury said, staring at them. “Who are these?”
Nick glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, my cousins. We all went to Jamaica to visit our grandmother. She’s eighty-five years old and still going strong. Have you ever been?”
Mercury nodded. “Yeah, me and Mum went on a Caribbean cruise once. She had met Steve Franklin…”
“Oh God, I forgot she went out with him.”
Steve Franklin was an American comic his mother had dated for a year. Unfortunately, he had saved the funny side of his personality for the big screen.