Jake turned his attention on Faye.
She hadn’t asked why Marcus had attempted to break into his home yet – but he could tell by her expression that she was waiting for an explanation. Faye turned around as Marcus was bandaging Jake’s hands.
Jake asked, ‘Are you okay, Faye?’
Faye nodded. ‘I feel so silly that I can’t stand the sight of blood.’
‘Not at all. I knew someone just like you.’
Marcus looked up.
‘What?’
‘You said you knew someone. What you should have said was…’
‘Oh, just get on with bandaging my hands, will you?’ Jake said testily. He did not want to get into another argument with Marcus. He wished he hadn’t brought up Eleanor.
‘Are you done yet?’ It hadn’t taken long, and he wanted Marcus to leave.
Marcus finished wrapping the last piece of bandage around Jake’s wrist and taped it. Jake grudgingly acknowledged that Marcus hadn’t done a bad job. He held up his bandaged hands at Faye. ‘You can come over now. Look, no blood!’ He couldn’t resist a little joke at her expense.
Marcus said seriously, ‘She’s right, you know. You really should go to the hospital and have your hands looked at by a professional.’
‘Why? Don’t you think I trust you to do the right thing, Marcus?’
Faye looked at Jake; the comment seemed strangely out of context.
Marcus stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over. ‘I see you’re back to your old self.’
‘Why wouldn’t I be? Has something changed since last we met?’
Marcus stormed out of the kitchen and slammed the door.
Jake returned his attention to his newly bandaged hands. He glanced at Faye, and caught her expression. ‘What?’
‘You didn’t thank him.’
‘And what precisely should I be thanking him for?’ Jake’s patronising tone continued, ‘Breaking into my house? Cutting my hands to shreds? What would you suggest?’
‘I suggest,’ Faye interjected, ‘you start by thanking me for not informing the head.’ She folded her arms. ‘Yet.’
She walked to the kitchen door and opened it.
‘Where are you going?’ Jake asked, suddenly worried.
Faye walked out, slammed the door behind her and stood on the other side, breathing hard. His sarcastic tone of voice had riled her, but she wasn’t really angry with Jake. After all, he was right; all this wasn’t his fault. She was angry with herself for not listening to her instincts. She knew she should have left right away and taken Jake to hospital to have his injury looked at. After all, he was still her student and her responsibility during official school hours. So why hadn’t she? She thought Jake might be surprised to learn that she wasn’t thinking of herself, and of getting into trouble with the head for taking him home in the first place, aware that he had not left work to sort out his stolen bike but his personal problems. She knew instinctively that Jake would not want the head to know that.
‘He’s got blood on his beloved rug, you know.’
Faye looked up to see Marcus sitting on one of the chairs in the hallway. There were two small wooden chairs set against the wall either side of a compact telephone table. . He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, examining the rug.
She frowned at him. ‘I know.’
He looked up at Faye. ‘He’s going to be angry.’
She shrugged. A bit of blood on a rug was the least of her concerns right now, and she imagined Jake’s too. Marcus sat back in the chair. He motioned to the phone on the side table next to him. ‘I’m waiting for a cab.’
Faye noticed a small overnight bag at Marcus’s feet.
