River Deep (34 page)

Maggie stared at him, wondering if he actually cared about second-hand professional kitchens or if he just wanted to see her walk into the reclamation centre looking like the littlest hobo. Either way, he did have a point.

‘OK,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe if I keep the windows down it’ll blow away the smell.’

She looked up at the sky as she climbed into the car. There had been no sign of the sun since the rainstorm had broken on Sunday morning. Now the air that had burned so brightly for the last two months was humid and damp and the clouds sat low and heavy in the sky. Jim climbed into the driver’s seat and reached into his pocket.

‘Before we go ––’ he began.

‘Jim!’ Maggie interrupted him. ‘We’re going to be late. Whatever it is, the answer is no. You can’t have, do or say it. All right?’

Jim pressed his lips together and, instead of speaking, took a folded brown envelope out of his pocket and threw it in Maggie’s lap. She picked it up and, scowling at him, looked inside, expecting to see some kind of final demand.

‘It’s money!’ she said, looking at the wad of notes. ‘Quite a lot of it by the looks of things.’

Jim nodded with satisfaction. ‘It’s four hundred and eighty pounds,’ he told her. ‘From the books I found in the cellar. The ones Dad bought by the yard all those years ago. I thought some of them might be worth something, so I took a few to a dealer’s in Bloomsbury on Saturday. That’s what he gave me for them, although to be honest, sis, I think if I’d have really known what I was talking about I could have got more. But still. It’s not much, I know, but it might help buy a hot plate or something?’

Maggie thumbed through the money and looked back at Jim. Secretly she couldn’t believe he’d given it to her at all. She’d had no idea the books were worth anything. He could have kept it and she would have been none the wiser.

‘I’m not
that
cheap,’ Jim said resentfully.

‘What do you mean?’ Maggie said guiltily.

‘I mean that you were just wondering why I didn’t pocket the cash, and that I’m not
that
cheap,’ Jim repeated, looking away from her.

‘Thanks, Jim, it will come in handy,’ she said, and then despite herself, ‘but what’s brought all this on? You have to admit it’s a bit of a sudden transformation!’ Jim sighed and started the ignition of the car. The engine rattled loudly as he pulled out into the street and began to negotiate the busy oneway system out of the city.

‘Do you remember when we were kids?’ He had to speak loudly over the engine, and Maggie leaned towards him a little. ‘When we used to build a “castle” out of sheets and chairs and stuff in the upstairs living room?’

Maggie nodded with a half-smile.

‘And you used to be the princess and I was your knight and Sheila was the dragon?’

Maggie couldn’t help but chuckle. They had never bothered to tell Sheila when they cast her in this particular role, so whenever she came in to check on them, finding Maggie squealing underneath a sheet and Jim charging at her with a wooden spoon, the look of mild alarm on her face used to crack them both up.

‘What’s that got to do with this?’ Maggie said, still holding the envelope.

‘We used to be friends. Not just then, when we were kids, but before you left home, we used to be friends and have a laugh. Then when you left you seemed to leave that behind too. I missed you, Maggie. I got used to the idea that you didn’t miss me.’

Maggie looked out of the window.

‘I did! I just got angry with you, Jim. Angry with the way you drifted in and out of college, let Mum and Dad take care of you when you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. I know everyone lives at home until they’re eighty-two these days, including me, by the looks of things, but I just wanted you to make the most of your life. You’re letting it slip away. I mean, if you’d have helped Mum and Dad out they might not have gotten into this mess.’

Jim shrugged. They’d left the town behind now, its wide road quickly turning into fast, narrow country roads.

‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘but maybe it’s hard to do anything living in your shadow. And sometimes it seems like everyone at home annoys you because they’re not like you. And us not being like you makes you hold back for some reason, and you resent us for it. Even Mum and Dad – especially Mum and Dad … You’re pretty harsh on them, you know. Too harsh sometimes. It can be sort of … debilitating. And maybe it’s just me, but … oh, I don’t now, Maggie. But now you’re back, and we’ve got this new start. It feels like a new start to me, doesn’t it to you?’

Maggie felt a sudden surge of anger. ‘Of course I do! Don’t you think I’m not grateful? But don’t go blaming me for the fact you’ve never done anything with your life. I can’t help that.’

Jim pulled into the car park of Brownly’s Professional and Architectural Reclamation Centre, a large square industrial warehouse. He switched off the engine of the Capri, which came to a juddering halt.

‘I’m not blaming you for anything that has or hasn’t happened in my life,’ he said stiffly. ‘I know that’s down to me. What I’m trying to say is that if you weren’t so angry with us all of the time – angry with me – maybe I could have talked to you about things. Maybe you could have helped me get it together.’

Maggie opened her mouth and shut it again.

‘Am I always angry?’ she said uncertainly.

‘Mostly,’ Jim told her. ‘At home at least. Angry and sad. And sometimes loopy since you came back,’ he added as an afterthought.

Maggie thought about her last conversation with her mum on Sunday morning. He could be right; partially right, at least.

‘But I’m saving The Fleur,’ she said a little bit petulantly.

‘Yes, I know, but that doesn’t make you queen, does it?’

Maggie smoothed her hair in the wing mirror and tried not to pout like a six-year-old.

‘And just because you’re busy all the time, you don’t have to march around the place like the rest of us are getting in your way. I mean, Mum and Dad have run the place for twenty-five years, more! They do know stuff, Maggie. You should ask them for advice sometimes, even if you don’t need it. It would make them feel better about all of this – make them feel part of it still. You could try and be a bit … kinder and a bit less … martyrish?’

Maggie looked at her brother as if he were insane. ‘I’m not a martyr! And anyway … they’ve retired!’ She raised her voice. ‘That’s the whole point!’

‘They’ve retired from the pub Maggie, not from the family,’ Jim said, opening the car door. ‘Come on, let’s get inside.’

Maggie got out of the car and smoothed the cotton of her trousers against her legs. She caught up with Jim as he headed into the centre.

‘Are you telling me that all of a sudden you’re just going to get all superefficient and wise and start making money out of mouldy books?’ she said defensively. ‘Because that’s pretty rich.’

Jim shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m saying that I’ll try and be good at this. For Mum and Dad’s sake, because I owe them. And I’m saying that I miss you, Maggie. The old you that used to be my friend, that used to need my protection from dragons. Can’t we try and get a bit of that back, even just a little bit?’

Maggie stopped, smiled and waved at Bob Brownly who had spotted them from a balcony walkway. He began to make his way down to them like a sales-seeking missile.

‘I do the talking,’ Maggie told Jim. ‘You look hard.’ She tucked her arm through his and glanced up at him. ‘I know I can be … prickly, Jim. A lot has happened recently. Things that have knocked me for six. But I’ll try. I’ll try and you try and we can both try with Mum and Dad and see how it goes, OK?’

Jim nodded. ‘OK,’ he said with a smile.

‘Well you can wipe that smile off your face for starters!’ Maggie nudged him. ‘I thought I told you to look hard!’ But they were both still laughing when Bob Brownly arrived at their sides.

Pete looked from Angie to Falcon and then down at his plate. Maybe this house celebration dinner hadn’t been the best idea he’d ever had. It was just that he felt he had to mark the occasion
somehow
. His so-called fiancée was on the other side of the world not ringing him, and – as he was still getting flash backs from kissing her – he’d decided it was best not to see Maggie, at least until he’d spoken to Stella. If he ever spoke to her. He was giving her until the end of the week to make the call, and then he was letting her go: he’d made up his mind. Or at least he’d made up his mind until midnight on Friday. Then he’d probably review the situation, because he knew that whatever the future held for him and Stella, he couldn’t let them end with a whimper, with a silent non-goodbye. If he had to, he’d fly out there himself and resolve the relationship; he’d have to. Otherwise five years of his life really would have been wasted and he couldn’t bear the thought of that.

He filled Falcon’s and Angie’s glasses again. So far they had both drunk a lot more than they’d eaten, and he got the feeling their ‘friendship’ was at breaking point.

‘So we’ll drink a toast, shall we? To my new job!’ He lifted his glass, forcing both of them to reciprocate.

‘To Pete’s new job and exciting new future,’ Angie said with a decidedly sharp edge to her voice. ‘I am pleased for you, Pete, really I am. I know how much you wanted this. It’s just … look, I’m sorry. I feel so tired all of a sudden. I think I’ll go to bed, OK?’ And she pushed her chair back and hurried down the hallway into her room, slamming the door behind her.

Pete looked at Falcon. ‘Well, that worked out well, then,’ he said, pushing his half-empty plate away. ‘Maybe I put too much chilli in the con carne.’

Falcon grimaced. ‘I’m sorry, mate. I think I’ve really gone and done it this time.’ He nodded in the general direction of Angie’s room. ‘She keeps changing the rules. One minute we’re seeing other people, and the next I’m getting the cold shoulder.’

Pete despaired quietly to himself. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d invited both of his housemates to dinner via their mobiles. He’d assumed that they’d assume that the other one was also coming, but it seemed that he’d made the wrong assumption. When Falcon had walked in on Angie sitting at the kitchen table, his face had fallen, and witnessing it, Angie’s had frozen. Pete wasn’t sure how they expected to go on living together without seeing each other ever again, but in any case they’d been giving it a good go until he’d invited them both to dinner. He’d pictured a nice boozy chilli followed by a few beers out. Not
Kramer versus Kramer
in the kitchen.

After all he did have something to be cheerful about. Magic Shop had given him a six-month contract to work on the digital effects of a real film, a real Hollywood blockbuster. Yes, he’d be stuck in a studio mostly, and no, he wouldn’t get anywhere near anyone famous, but his name would be on the credits, somewhere near the end, in really small print that you could hardly see, but it would be there. Pete had literally whooped for joy as he’d emerged back on to Wardour Street. People had looked at him and smiled knowingly as if that sort of thing happened every day around there, but Pete didn’t care, because this was his day. His beginning – not a new beginning, but a
first
beginning. The beginning of everything he’d dreamed of since he’d been a little kid with a picture of Raquel Welch taped over his headboard.

And it had been so easy; almost too easy. After all those weeks of worrying and fretting and all those
years
of dreaming and hoping, all he’d had to do was turn up and talk about himself. He’d gone into the interview and within five minutes found himself engrossed in a chat about the thing he loved most in the whole world. He found himself reminiscing about dinosaurs made out of modelling clay and dreaming about what the future of FX might hold and how he might contribute to that. Most surprisingly he found that he had a reputation – just a small one, but even so people knew his name and associated him with good work. Just as he was leaving, wondering if he’d been a bit overexcited, they’d stopped him at the lift and told him he had the contract if he wanted it.

Pete’s elation had lasted all the way round the supermarket as he gathered the ingredients for his meal, until in the queue for the checkout two things hit him. That he should have done this years ago, shouldn’t have let Stella push everything else out of his life until she had become his only ambition, and that he found he wanted to tell Maggie more than anything; he wanted to see how her eyes filled with midnight lightning when he told her. But he couldn’t tell her yet because he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to see or speak to her again until he’d spoken to Stella and given her a chance to make his love for her live and breathe again. Then he’d know how to feel about Maggie. He’d know what he needed to say to her and how he needed to say it.

Right now, he thought, all he had was a half-empty bottle of wine and a grumpy-looking punk to deal with.

‘Mate,’ he said, ‘why do you do it? Why do you sleep with her when you know it’s going nowhere?’

Falcon raised a bloke’s eyebrow and Pete sat back in his chair and crossed his arms in reply. Falcon leaned over the table and dropped his head in resignation.

‘Because I like her, and I fancy her, and she’s good in bed and she’s got really nice …’ Falcon stopped himself. ‘And because I want to – I want to sleep with her. I just don’t want to have to be her boyfriend. I mean, we’re both adult, right? She knows how I feel, but she still lets me shag her. We agreed that was how it would be.’

Pete shook his head. ‘Falc, we’re not kids any more. We know better, and if you truly like Angie and care about her, you shouldn’t treat her like this. She’s all messed up and it’s confusing her. She’s not as tough as you think she is. I don’t think you really knew what you were doing with the “friends that shag” lark. Those things never work. Why don’t you go in there now and explain and make sure you never cross that line again, because … I like you, mate, but I like Angie, too, a lot. She deserves better, and what’s more, you know that.’

Pete looked at the piles of plates laden with food. ‘I’ll wash up,’ he said grimly.