He took my hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Let’s see how this weekend goes, first.’
10
The first week in any job is going to be tiring. Throw in a bunch of rebellious Outlaws, my parents clucking about trying to ensure I had the Best Work Week Ever, add to that evenings avoiding a housemate while pretending to Isaac that I was positively brimming with energy and all in all, by Friday morning the temptation to burrow under my duvet and forget the world existed almost won.
Instead, I dragged myself out of bed at seven-thirty, stood under a scalding shower until I could keep both eyes open at the same time, donned jeans and a white T-shirt, sorted my hair, hid my wan face beneath a layer of make-up and hurried downstairs to pour the first of hopefully many coffees down my throat.
I assumed the person I’d heard clattering in the kitchen would be Isaac, but no, Elliot was sitting at the table, with a fresh plate of eggs and a pot of filter coffee.
He looked up from his book as I walked in, a faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes. Penny emerged from underneath the table, tail wagging.
‘It’s Jess?’ I said, past the sudden lump in my throat. ‘I’m working with Isaac at a wedding today.’
‘Jessie, I can promise you I won’t ever forget who you are. I just wasn’t expecting you up yet.’ He pointed his fork at a sticky note on the filter pot that said,
Please wake J at 9.15
‘Good to know my brother has such faith in me.’
‘He’s worried about you.’
I stopped dead, my hand clutching the door of the mug cabinet. ‘What’s he said?’
‘You’re taking on a gruelling weekend shift on top of a full-on job. He didn’t give details.’
‘Well, he’s no need to be worried, which is why I’m showing up early, to show him that.’ I took out a travel mug. ‘Is any of that coffee going spare?’
He nodded. ‘There’s more eggs in the pan, if you want them.’
I glanced at the clock behind him, debating whether I had time.
‘They’re a la jam sandwich.’
I jerked my head to look at his plate. Sure enough, poking out from underneath the scrambled eggs was a thick slice of naan bread covered in dark red jam.
‘I thought you were supposed to be suffering from memory issues?’
Elliot, Isaac and I had invented eggs a la jam sandwich one morning when Mum and Dad had gone away for a few days and we’d run out of cereal or normal bread. Isaac had hated it, but Elliot and I had found a new breakfast classic.
‘Did you make extra especially for me?’
He shrugged, but I caught the glint of a smile. ‘I thought it might help you feel at home. You’ve seemed a bit… on edge, since you got here. I wasn’t sure if it was being here, or something else, but I’ve learned not to underestimate the power of familiar food.’
‘I haven’t eaten this since I left home. Not so familiar any more.’ I found another naan bread on the side by the hob, added a large blob of jam and a dollop of eggs, then grabbed a fork and took a seat opposite Elliot. Penny slid to her belly with a sigh beside me.
‘It’s my Friday morning staple.’
‘You eat this every Friday?’ Taking a mouthful, I could understand why.
‘All part of the routine. Keep things simple and straightforward. Oh, and in my own separate pan, not Isaac’s multicooker.’
We both smiled and shuddered at the same time.
‘I’d forgotten how good this is,’ I said, enjoying another generous mouthful. Elliot was right. Sat at the same table as the man who’d once meant so much to me, enjoying the weird food unique to our old friendship, in amongst all the strangeness and uncertainty swirling about, it felt somehow easier to push the horror that came between us to one side, as we savoured a shared moment of contented deliciousness.
‘Do you want another one?’ Elliot asked, once our plates were clean and coffee mugs empty.
‘Yes, but I really have to go.’ It was nearly eight-thirty and I was determined to show up at least half an hour early.
