Page 98 of Sleep

“Whatever needs doing, I will be here, right beside you. Remember that. It’s you and me now.”

“You’ll come?”

“Of course I will. Not leaving your side.”

I had to laugh, which was the weirdest feeling ever.

“I still sleep in my single bed in a box room with the world’s smallest window. I have a poster of Jason Donovan on my wall. I don’t know why. I should really take it down.”

“You and I fit perfectly on this sofa. I’m pretty sure we can share a single bed, Jason Donovan on the wall or not.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t even met my dad, and he’ll be a mess.”

“I’d anything for you.”

“Then can you just hold me for a while and tell me everything will be all right?”

“Everything will be all right,” he whispered.

And strangely enough, I believed him.

32. Jonathan

“Iknow what it looks like,” I said as Francis Donovan laughed in my face.

The past two weeks had been intense and would have been so even if I hadn’t swapped my glass tower for a kitchen table in Newbury. One that came with the man sitting in front of me and his wayward child, darling Pickle, who was currently in a meeting somewhere up in Central London, hopefully signing a contract that would change their life.

I had offered to go along. I’d also offered up Jenny, hoping she could keep things on track, should Mabel need a supportive ear.

“I love Mabel,” I continued, despite Francis fiddling with his tablet and acting as if I weren’t there. “If it makes them happy that I’m here with you, then here I will be. And anyway, you wanted help with the funeral plans.”

“Don’t change the subject. I’m talking about the two of you still being here, taking up space in my house! I couldn’t even get to my toothbrush this morning for all the crap someone had left on that sink.”

I opened my mouth, intending to defend my partner, but Francis waved his hand in my face.

“You’re grown-ups. Go back up to the city where you belong. Get yourselves together, and let an old man have some peace and quiet.”

I was getting used to him and his ways. The sharp tongue. Francis Donovan was a good man, straight-talking and honest, like Mabel—traits I appreciated more than ever. At the same time, I knew how much he loved having them here, irrespective of how often he shooed us out of his way to prove how well he was coping, told me off for leaving my shoes in the hallway, scolded my bad attempts at making tea or passed comment on my flashy ties.

And, like Mabel, Francis Donovan claimed he wasn’t much of a hugger, yet he’d hugged me fiercely and told me I was always welcome here, whatever the time of day or night, because here was home, a place to have a nice cup of tea and a biscuit.

The next minute, he’d told us off for not bringing biscuits.

I did love it here. Small and cramped as it was, it was so incredibly different to anywhere I’d lived, but it was so welcoming, warm. It felt like home.

“What can I do to help with the funeral arrangements?” I persisted softly, but Francis shook his head.

“Trudi didn’t want a big affair. She’d been stuck in that room for the past ten years, and you know what people are like. At first, her friends would visit. Then they would call. Then…nothing. I didn’t blame them. She was unreliable in her temper and struggled to remember who they were. It wasn’t a pleasant experience for anyone, and I would hate for people to feel obliged, especially since the memories… No. We will stick to just us. Me and Mabel. And you, if you want to come.”

“Of course I want to come. I want to be there. I never met Trudi, but if I can be of any support to the two of you? Mabel adored their mother.”

“We both did. She was one of a kind.”

“Mothers usually are,” I mused with a smile.

“Now, let’s go back to this offer of employment,” he said, changing the subject himself. “After the practice run you orchestrated yesterday, I hope they nail it. You’re good for them, whatever this…is.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. We had role-played scenarios, practised interview questions and I’d drilled them in negotiation skills. Lean forward. Don’t let your eyes flicker, ever. Hold stern. Nerves of steel. Iron rod up your backside.

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