Page 38 of The Truth About You and Me
Knew that my life would never be the same as it once was.
The door is stuck and Maggie comes into the shop with an ‘Oof.’ Her hair is wild, cheeks flushed, Henry Hoover trailing behind her.
Only Maggie could make walking through the door with a vacuum cleaner look charming. We had agreed to make a start on clearing the shop, so that if I decided to sublet the lease, the place would look more like a shop and less like a half-finished project. A bit like me, I guess.
‘Hey!’ She blows her hair out of her eyes. ‘I came prepared!’ She lands her hands on her hips and looks around. The sunlight is tracking a path through the grimy windows, lighting her up as though she has her own spotlight. Maggie always has this typhoon of energy swirling around her. I shouldn’t find it appealing, I should be running away from the chaos, but instead, I find my body calming, the ache of anxiety in my chest releasing. I know this is too soon for anything more than friendship; I’m still healing in more ways than one, and she said ‘just friends’ and I agreed. What else could I do? This is all I’m capable of right now. I’ll just try to ignore the way the room expands and brightens when she’s in it.
Maggie is determined to speak with Luke, to see if she can find out more about what happened. So far though, he’s ignoring her messages. I’m trying not to get swept up in the hope that finding more answers about that night might help me on the road to recovery. She’s convinced that he’s not the violent type… The vague memories I do have and that my stroke was caused by a blow to the head seem to contradict that. Even so, I trust her judgement.
‘You wouldn’t believe the morning I’ve had.’ She shrugs off her backpack and her pink fur coat and dumps them on the floor, a cloud of dust flying up. ‘First I went to see a new potential employer, Ola, who is ahugger.’
I dramatically wince for her benefit.
‘Right? I had to take three steps back and fell on the sofa. I’d like to tell you I styled it out, but I looked more like I was gate-crashing a photo shoot for Furniture Land. Needless to say, I didn’t get the gig.’ She bends over and starts taking out cleaning products, holds them to her chest, and looks around with a frown before making her way towards me, landing them on the overturned bookshelf. ‘Then, my car wouldn’t startagain, which made me late for the next interview and the job had already gone. Anyway I’m here now!’ She pauses, clasps her hands.
The sight of her hands without the protection of her gloves hits me. She’s putting her trust in me as her friend. I need to do the same. And this is good. I need a friend right now. And that’s what friends do. Help each other out, tell each other about their day, tell funny anecdotes. Does that also turn every Friday into something I look forward to all week? I push the thought aside.
‘Where do you want me?’ Her eyes widen at what she’s said, embarrassment hot on her cheeks. ‘I meant…’
She has no idea how much light she brings into my day, how she makes me feel like I’m not failing at my own life. But what gets me is she doesn’t even know she’s doing it. She doesn’t realise how much my world has already started to open up because she’s in it.
‘Coffee?’ I ask holding out a cup towards her.
‘You, Jack Chadwick, are a bloody lifesaver.’ She reaches out and takes the cup. I don’t miss the concentration in her eyes as she takes it from me.
‘Any response to your messages?’
‘Nada. He will though; I’ve found one of his precious vinyls in the back of my wardrobe.’
‘Are you sure it’s safe to see him?’
‘Luke? Yeah. Honestly, Jack, he’s not a tough guy. That’s why what you remember doesn’t add up. Despite what I said’ – she looks away, pink blossoming on her cheeks – ‘to him. I’ve been thinking…’ she begins.
‘And?’
‘And there must have been CCTV?’
I shake my head. ‘The police checked. Nothing was picked up.’
‘Maybe we can get some more information, see if it jogs your memory? Have you asked your pals?’
‘Pals?’ I laugh.
‘Yeah, buddies, mates…’
‘Not really… We’ve kind of lost touch.’
I think of Steve and his unanswered messages. The sound of him knocking my door and me reaching for the painkillers by the side of the bed that would take me away to oblivion. Steve is on the sales team from one of my favourite publishing houses. I should have got in touch before now, but my pride, and I guess my imposter syndrome, have kept me away from my old life. My parents said the police spoke to him, but as far as I know, nothing he said shed any light on what happened.
‘I could ask Steve? He was out with me that night…’
‘Well there we go!’ She grins. ‘Let’s ask him if he saw anything, even a little clue might help?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Good. That’s settled then. We’ll go and ask him. I can be your partner in crime or, you know, the Daphne to your Freddie. Or Velma. I always thought she was the coolest one.’
She pops the lid off her coffee and blows over the top, eyes drawn to the window. ‘Shall we start there?’ She gestures to the grime covering the glass with her cup.
