Page 41 of Secrets at the Little Music Shop

‘What’s the matter with Rosie?’

‘Oho, touch a nerve, did I? Yeah, I reckon our little Jemima’s burning the hot stuff for Benny boy. An’ for the record, I seen his face, looking atcha like you’re gonna pull him from the wreckage.’

‘If you could possibly tear yourself away from your rambling imaginings about my love life, what’s the matter with Rosie?’

‘Social worker. Turned up at the cottage. I just got back from London, clapped out on the couch at the workshop and Rosie comes burstin’ in in tears ’cos some nosey old crone came round wanting to know if she’s feeding our Hazzer prop’ly. Looking in the cupboards and checking his pram an’ stuff.’

‘Bloody hell.’

It was Rosie’s greatest fear made real. That somehow, someone would begin to suspect what she suspected herself, that she couldn’t look after her baby. It was all ridiculous, of course, overwork and guilt making her feel useless; she adored Harry. A social worker on the doorstep was the last thing she needed to make her feel like a capable, coping mother.

‘You can talk her round, Jem, she’ll listen to you.’

‘But—’

Jason gave me a solemn look. ‘Luv. Whatever it is, whatever you’re running from or to, it’ll keep. Honest to God, it will still be there tomorrow. But today — today Rosie needs you. And, just maybe, your man needs you, too. Doncha want to get things sorted there before you takes off to lands unknown? Or is this how you always work, get yourself involved and then run out, so nothing can ever be your responsibility?’

‘You know nothing about it.’

He inclined his head. ‘Anyway, I reckons if I brings you back she might cook us a meal. I’m up to here wiv your fancy London restaurant mush, just give us one of Rosie’s Thai green curries an’ I’ll die a happy man.’

‘Jason!’ But I had to let out a small laugh. His heart was in the right place, even if it was firmly lodged just above a complaining stomach. ‘All right. I’ll come back, for now. But first I need some advice.’

‘Wot, from me? Wotcha want to know? Nothing I can tell you thatcha don’t already know, apart from maybe how to dance the horizontal tango.’ He circled his hips suggestively and ended up squeakily crushing himself against the steering wheel.

‘How do I go about finding him?’

‘Ah, wotcha want him for, when you can have me?’ he replied, slightly gasping, trying to rearrange his crotch.

‘Like you said, maybe I should talk to him. And don’t look at me like that, it’s not what you said. I only . . . I only want to make sure that he’s all right. He behaved like a bastard the last time I saw him and I want an explanation. Yes. To check he’s alive and to find out what the hell is wrong with him.’

Jason blew. ‘Phooooow. You reckon he’s done ’imself in?’

‘No! Why, do you?’

‘Rosie said ’e were off like a rat out a drainpipe once you got started. Bloke that sensitive, well . . . Could of done anything. Driven into a wall, hung himself.’

‘You are such a little ray of sunshine, aren’t you, Jason? Tell me then, how do I find out?’

Jason looked at me, long and hard. ‘Whatcha crying for?’

‘I’m not.’

A finger which smelled of embalming fluid brushed my cheek. ‘Then your skin’s leaking, kid.’

I gave a hiccup, a fighting attempt to keep the tears at bay. I never cried. Not ever. ‘I’m fine.’

Jason jerked the car into a bus stop and turned off the ignition. ‘Bleeding women! Come ’ere,’ and a rough arm dragged me into the surprising comfort of his fleece jacket. ‘Any more ’ormones on this coat and it’s gonna grow breasts.’

Jason’s gruff good nature was almost more than I could bear. Silent tears burned down my face as he held me tight against him. ‘I’m just . . .’ The words came out in half-sobs, further muffled by the generous amount of Jason they were pressed into. ‘Ben. He’s so . . . so scared . . . all the time. I want to know . . . what he’s . . . running from.’

‘He prob’ly wants to know the same ’bout you, Jem,’ Jason said quietly, rubbing my back as far as I could tell without lecherous intent. ‘We all knows you’re running scared too, my girl.’

I struggled upright, tidying my face with the back of my hand. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Ah, come on. You comes outta nowhere, you never talks about what you’ve left behind and you’re terrified of falling in love. That’s some serious back-story you’re carting around, darling. And I wouldn’t worry ’bout him topping ’imself. Guy wiv a face that well known, we’d have heard.’ Jason gave me a bone-squeezing hug. ‘He’s gone to ground somewhere, thass all. Hiding like.’

‘Then I’ve got no idea even where to start looking.’ Ideas were slipping through my mind like shadows. Yes. I’d find Ben, find out what he was hiding. Jason couldn’t accuse me of running out on anything unfinished. My behaviour would be unimpeachable. Then I’d run.

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