They drew level, and he nodded.
‘How are you, Harry?’ Jack stopped to ask. ‘Long time no see.’
‘Not long enough for you, I expect.’
There was a pause.
‘I’m sorry to hear about Trevor,’ Jack said then.
‘He… he died this morning.’
‘Ah, man. That sucks. Are you okay? Got family here with you, or to rush back to?’
Harry shook his head, annoyed that it looked as if no one cared about him. No one did, but he didn’t want Jack to know that.
‘I’m sorry about Dan,’ he said, finding his manners.
‘Thanks. It was a shock, such a senseless accident, slipping in the snow.’
‘He was always good to me. You both were.’
Their words went unspoken. Too much water under the bridge but a mutual respect to keep things calm.
‘I’d best be on my way,’ Harry said. ‘Things to do.’
‘If you need any help, you only have to say.’
‘I can manage,’ he said quickly. ‘Thanks, though.’
‘When is the date for the funeral? I’d like to come if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Of course not. I’d appreciate that. It’s a week on Thursday. Half past ten at Somerley Church and then on to the cemetery.’
‘Thanks, I’ll be there. Take care of yourself, yeah?’
Harry gave a faint smile, and they went their separate ways. He arrived back at his childhood home ten minutes later. The heating was on minimal, but he decided to make a fire. Once he’d done that, he sat down with a beer and thought about what to do now with his life. He wouldn’t stay here, he was sure of that.
The estate agent was coming to value the house in a couple of weeks. He’d wanted to give himself some time to get the funeral out of the way and decide where he was going next. His latest job in Birmingham had been due to end this month anyway, and he would have to find new digs as well as another contract. So staying here until he got something else would be fine. Then he might be able to rent a better flat.
That was one good thing about coming home. He was tired of living in single digs only fit for a man in his twenties who was earning money through working long hours.
It was time to evaluate his life, what he wanted from it. Or rather what he could change about it now after making a hash of it all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Back at work on Monday morning, Ava was with Jack in the conference room. They were waiting for Owen Hartman, one of the journalists forHedworth News.
In the middle of the table sat an array of cupcakes, pastries, and biscuits. For a whole twenty seconds, Ava resisted, but then her hand reached out for a flapjack.
‘I ate so much last night, but I can’t deny myself this,’ she said, tucking into it. ‘Thanks for dinner.’
‘It was a fun night. I hadn’t realised how many people would be curious to know who you were. Sorry about that.’
Ava laughed, remembering how several people had stopped to say hello. ‘Honestly, it was fine. I really enjoyed it.’
‘And are you looking forward to this week?’
She wiped crumbs from her lip and swallowed. ‘Absolutely.’
