Page 18 of A Dark Fall
Rob calls after lunch. “I could kill you!” she starts. “All night, I was checking my phone, and then, when I tried to call you, your phone was off.”
“It must have died through the night. Sorry, babe.”
“Well, as long as you’re fine, I forgive you.”
“So, how was the rest of the night? Do you have a hangover?”
“Ugh, marginally. But Alekso was fab—the place went nuts when they announced him. He played for about an hour then went off and came back on to announce the name of the club. Annnnnd ... Becca went home with the footballer.” Robyn says the last part with a measure of judgment, I think.
“So, hewasa footballer,” I say absently, licking a blob of marmalade from the side of my hand. My croissants are going to be freezing. Hard and freezing.
“Yeah. He said what team—a lower division, I think. Can’t remember. So, no doubt that’ll be her in love again ...” She sighs.
Oh, Rob, let her have her fun. Someone should at least get to sleep with whoever they want regardless of whether it’s sensible. I try to change the subject. “What was the name?” I ask.
“Oh, I can’t remember. It had a city at the end. I’d remember if I heard it again, though I’ll ask Dan,” she says, missing my meaning.
“No—the club’s name. What did they call it?” I have to change my direction of thought quickly so as not to ask whathecalled it. What name would Jake Lawrence choose for his club, I wonder? Jake’s Den of Sin?
“Oh. Yeah, they called itSurgery. OrThe Surgery.No—just Surgery, I think. Quite cool, I guess. Was that your suggestion?” She snorts.
I can’t hear anything after that because my head is spinning. Why the hell would he name itthat? Really? Out of all the possibilities and suggestions he would have had last night, that’swhat he chose? Or perhaps I’m reading too much into it. Yes, it’s probably that. A coincidence. A bizarre one. That’s all.
“So, what are your plans today, babe?” she asks before I hear her cover the phone to speak to Dan. “What? Oh, yeah, she’s fine. Dan and I are going for a picnic if you fancy joining us?”
“Oh, that sounds lovely, but I’m going to Mum’s for dinner in a bit. Nick’s coming,” I say cautiously. I try to avoid talking about Nick around Rob as much as possible. It was years ago, and she’s completely moved on, but she also has an amazing memory and holds a grudge like no one else I know.
“Well, that’ll be fun. Say hello to him from me,” she drawls sarcastically.
“I won’t.” I smile.
“Oh, and when is your date with the eligible Dr. Wardley?” she asks excitedly.
God, I completely forgot about that.
“Um, not sure. Next week sometime, I guess.”
“Good. It’s been far too long since Voldemort, and you need to get some.” Rob’s nicknames for Ben switch frequently between “The Prick,” “Voldemort,” and “He Who Must Not Be Named.” She’s right though: I need to “get some.” The problem is that the person I want to get some from is not Dr. Sam Wardley.
“Yeah, you’re right, and he’s a lovely guy. But I really don’t want the complications at work if this goes badly, that’s all.”
“Well, if you go in with that attitude, as if it’s going to go badly, then it doesn’t give it a great shot, does it?”
Another good point. Thanks, Rob.
“Yes! Okay, I’m coming!Okay, Dan is rushing me. Call you later?”
After I hang up, I go back to my cool coffee and cooler croissant. When I call Mum to check on the plans for dinner, she’s excitable and talking a pitch or two higher than normal. Whenever Nick comes home, it’s as if the prodigal son returned. She’s probably polishing the china while we talk. No, I don’t know if he’s bringing a girl or whether he’s seeing anyone seriously yet. I tell her I’ll see her later and hang up, wondering vaguely how she would react to me bringing Jake to Sunday dinner.
I spend the rest of the day pottering around the house doing laundry, light cleaning, and some reading in the garden. These are things I do, but mentally, I’m somewhere else. Mentally, I’m pressed against a glass window in a dim office. Against the cool brick wall of a nightclub hallway.
As I walk into the house I grew up in, the smell of roasting meat overcomes me, and my mouth waters. A good, homely roast dinner and a hug from Dad will re-center my scattered brain, I’m sure. Also, it was “The Chopin Sessions” on Classic FM on the drive over, which helped relax my jostling thoughts a bit too.
“Hey, guys, it’s me,” I shout as I drop my bag by the front door.
Mum and Dad’s house still feels like home to me. Even after Tash, Nick, and I moved out, they never even considered downsizing. I think Mum believes the place will be heaving with grandchildren soon and so she’ll need all the spare bedrooms she can get. Besides, it’s not as if they can’t afford it. My parents have always been comfortable as far as money is concerned, like both their parents were before them. Financial stability in our family is passed down like freckles.
“Oh, hi, sweetheart,” Mum says as I come into the kitchen. She sounds harassed. As I cross toward her, she puts an arm around me, warm, smelling of roses and familiarity.