There was an unexpected upside to his holiday that he had not considered until now. He would not be around to pick up the pieces – and Marcus knew it. That’s why Marcus was there, attention-seeking again. Marcus was losing his audience; an audience he was scaring every time he went off the rails in a spectacular fashion during one of his benders. Jake was sick and tired of being that audience, witnessing that crash.
Jake didn’t have to ask Marcus what he was doing there because he already knew. ‘I am not going to be around to pick up the pieces.’ Jake poked a finger in Marcus’s chest. ‘So you had better get your act together.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You know what I’m talking about.’
Marcus’s face looked a picture of dumbfounded innocence.
‘Do you think I’m that stupid? I know the signs. It’s a part of our teacher training, to be on the lookout for substance abuse in the children in our care.’ What Jake didn’t know, and what he was sure Marcus wasn’t going to tell him, was just what substance he was abusing.
‘I’d better go.’ Marcus made a sudden move to the front door.
‘Oh no you don’t.’ Jake moved quickly, positioning himself between Marcus and the front door, blocking his escape. He wanted some assurance from Marcus, some sign that he understood.
‘I just wanted to apologise. That’s all,’ Marcus said unexpectedly.
Jake stared at him. Was this it? Was he finally getting thatapology after waiting almost seven months? Was Marcus finally giving in and acknowledging what he had done, if not for him, then at least for Eleanor?
Marcus turned and looked down the hallway.
Jake followed his gaze. ‘You mean you’re apologising for this morning.’ Jake couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘It’s not important.’ Jake turned towards the front door.
‘There’s something else.’
Jake turned back. Expectation hung in the air. He studied Marcus. They had been best friends once – the three of them, Marcus, Jake and Eleanor.
A best friend to Eleanor, a best friend to Marcus; Jake had been the glue that had held the three of them together. But left alone, Marcus and Eleanor had always acted like any normal siblings – like they hated each other.
Jake had been the calming influence – the negotiator. When Jake was there, they had played, when Jake was not, they had fought. And things had never changed; as they had grown older, they had not grown closer. Marcus and Ellie had always been like chalk and cheese. Where Marcus was loud and brash, Eleanor was quiet and shy. Where Marcus excelled in the classroom and on the sports pitch, Eleanor struggled.
Eleanor, as her mother had so often reminded her, had never been destined to be a great success like her brother. She had told her she should forget college, settle down, produce babies, and lead the role of the pampered, rich wife. Jake had come to realise that her mother, the actress who never was, had never been able to bear the thought of Eleanor achieving something – being somebody in her own right.
Thanks to Marcus, she had got that wish. Thanks to Marcus, Eleanor would never have the chance to reach her potential.
Jake decided he didn’t care a jot whether Marcus set the record straight now or not. He was past forgiving. The time forapologies had expired.
Jake turned his back on Marcus and opened the front door.
‘There’s something else,’ Marcus said again.
Jake stepped outside and slammed the door shut. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to know.
Chapter 15
Jake marched down to his car, opened the boot, and flung his holdall inside. He slammed it shut, hard. Then he yelped and put his hands under his armpits, trying to dull the pain.
He leaned against the back of his car, waiting for the pain to subside, staring down the long street of terraced houses, identical to his own, some divided into small flats. He lived in a London borough where his neighbours were not much different from himself, with average jobs on average wages. There were some young couples who had just started out on the corporate ladder in the city. Jake knew, on their potential wages, it wouldn’t be long before they’d be moving out, onwards and upwards to an upmarket area like Camden, or St. Johns Wood.
But Jake liked it just fine where he was. His neighbours, unaware of his family connections and who he had been in his past life, had befriended him not because they knew who he was, but just because they were friendly, amiable people.
‘Why do most people equate a better life with having a bigger house, a better car, more of everything?’ he remembered remarking to Faye one day while chatting.
‘Human nature, I guess,’ Faye had answered. ‘Doesn’t everybody want to better themselves? Doesn’t everybody look upto people who live somewhere like a posh area of London, in a fancy house, and aspire to be like them?’
‘Do you?’ he had asked.
Faye had laughed at the question. ‘Do you see me in one of those sorts of places on a teacher’s pay? No amount of aspiration’s going to get me a big, posh house,I can assure you.’
