After You

And when it came down to it, what was the point in re-examining your sadness all the time anyway? It was like picking at a wound and refusing to let it heal. I knew what I had been part of. I knew what my role was. What was the point in going over and over it?

I wouldn’t come next week, I knew now. I would find an excuse for Dad.

I walked slowly across the car park, rummaging in my bag for my keys, telling myself it had at least meant that I hadn’t had to spend another evening alone in front of my television, dreading the passing of the twelve hours until I had to return to work.

‘His name wasn’t really Bill, right?’

Jake fell into step alongside me.

‘Nope.’

‘Daphne’s like a one-woman broadcasting corporation. She means well, but your personal story will be all over her social club before you can say Rodent Reincarnation.’

‘Thanks for that.’

He grinned at me, and nodded towards my Lurex skirt. ‘Nice threads, by the way. It’s a good look for a grief-counselling session.’ He stopped briefly to retie a shoelace.

I stopped with him. I hesitated, then said: ‘I’m sorry about your mum.’

His face was sombre. ‘You can’t say that. It’s like prison – you can’t ask someone what they’re in for.’

‘Really? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t –’

‘I’m joking. See you next week.’

A man leaning against a motorbike lifted a hand in greeting. He stepped forward as Jake crossed the car park and enveloped him in a bear hug, kissing his cheek. I stopped to watch, mostly because it was rare to see a man hug his son like that in public, once they were over satchel-carrying age.

‘How was it?’

‘Okay. The usual.’ Jake gestured to me. ‘Oh, this is … Louisa. She’s new.’

The man squinted at me. He was tall and broad-shouldered. A nose that might once have been broken gave him the faintly bruising appearance of a former boxer.

I nodded a polite greeting. ‘It was nice to meet you, Jake. Bye then.’ I lifted a hand, and began to make my way to my car. But as I passed the man he kept staring at me, and I felt myself colour under the intensity of his gaze. ‘You’re that girl,’ he said.

Oh, no, I thought, slowing suddenly. Not here too.

I stared at the ground for a moment and took a breath. Then I turned back to face them both. ‘Okay. As I’ve just made clear in the group, my friend made his own decisions. All I ever did was support them. Not that, if I’m honest, I really want to get into this right here and with a complete stranger.’

Jake’s father continued to squint at me. He lifted his hand to his head.

‘I understand that not everybody will get it. But that’s the way it was. I don’t feel I have to debate my choices. And I’m really tired and it’s been a bit of a day, and I think I’m going to go home now.’

He cocked his head to one side. And then he said, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

I frowned.

‘The limp. I noticed you have a limp. You live near that massive new development, right? You’re the girl who fell off the roof. March. April.’

And suddenly I recognized him. ‘Oh – you were –’

‘The paramedic. We were the team who picked you up. I’d been wondering what happened to you.’

I almost buckled with relief. I let my gaze run over his face, his hair, his arms, suddenly recalling with Pavlovian accuracy his reassuring manner, the sound of the siren, the faint scent of lemons. And I let out a breath. ‘I’m good. Well. Not good exactly. I have a shot hip and a new boss who’s an utter arse and – you know – I’m at a grief-counselling club in a damp church hall with people who are just really, really …’

‘Sad,’ said Jake, helpfully.

‘The hip will get better. It’s plainly not hindering your dance career.’

My laugh emerged as a honk.

‘Oh. No. This is … The outfit is related to the boss who is an arse. Not my normal mode of dress. Anyway. Thank you. Wow …’ I put my hand to my head. ‘This is weird. You saved me.’

‘It’s good to see you. We don’t often get to see what happens afterwards.’

‘You did a great job. It was … Well, you were really kind. I remember that much.’

‘De nada.’

I stared at him.

‘De nada. Spanish. “It was nothing.” ’

‘Oh, okay, then. I take it all back. Thanks for nothing.’

He smiled and raised a paddle-sized hand.

Afterwards, I didn’t know what made me do it. ‘Hey.’

He looked back towards me. ‘It’s Sam, actually.’

‘Sam. I didn’t jump.’

‘Okay.’

‘No. Really. I mean, I know you’ve just seen me coming out of a grief-counselling group and everything but it’s – well, I just – I wouldn’t jump.’

He gave me a look that seemed to suggest he had seen and heard everything.

‘Good to know.’

We gazed at each other for a minute. Then he lifted his hand again. ‘Nice to see you, Louisa.’

He pulled on a helmet and Jake slid onto the bike behind him. I found myself watching as they pulled out of the car park. And because I was still watching I caught Jake’s exaggerated eye roll as he pulled on his own helmet. And then I remembered what he had said in the session.

The compulsive shagger.

‘Idiot,’ I told myself, and limped across the rest of the tarmac to where my car was boiling gently in the evening heat.

CHAPTER FIVE

I lived on the edge of the City. In case I was in any doubt, across the road stood a huge office-block-sized crater, surrounded by a developer’s hoarding, upon which was written: FARTHINGATE – WHERE THE CITY BEGINS. We existed at the exact point where the glossy glass temples to finance butted up against the grubby old brick and sash-windows of curry shops and twenty-four-hour grocers, of stripper pubs and minicab offices that resolutely refused to die. My block sat among those architectural refuseniks, a lead-stained, warehouse-style building staring at the steady onslaught of glass and steel and wondering how long it could survive, perhaps rescued by a hipster juice bar or pop-up retail experience. I knew nobody except Samir who ran the convenience store and the woman in the bagel bakery, who smiled at me in greeting but didn’t seem to speak any English.