Sal decided to tackle it head-on. ‘And it’s good to see how much Mo seems to be enjoying uni.’
Shazia nodded. ‘Yes. And he’s working hard.’
‘You weren’t too disappointed when he decided to stay in York?’
There was only a fraction of a hesitation. ‘No. York is a good university, and the course is the one he wanted.’ Shazia divided the last of her brownie into small pieces. ‘And of course he wanted to stay around, to be near Tish.’ She ate a lump of cake. ‘He isn’t making a nuisance of himself, is he – coming over to your place so often? Because if he is, you must say.’
Sal smiled. ‘No. It’s nice having him around. And he’s no trouble.’ She paused. ‘As long as it’s all right with you and Nihal?’
Shazia paused and chased the last chunk of brownie around on her plate. ‘It is. To be honest, it’s the best of both worlds for us. Mo growing up, coming into his own, being much more independent, but still being around, some of the time. Before all this happened, we were worried that he was too much of a home-bird. A bit lacking in confidence, compared to his sisters. Not any more.’
‘They’ve helped each other,’ Sal said.
‘Yes, they have. And he is very, very…fond of her.’
‘It shows.’
‘Good.’
They’d laughed then and gone on to talk about other things.
Looking at Mo now, making himself and Tish toast in her small kitchen, Sal smiled. He would curl up into a ball of embarrassment if he knew that she and his mum had discussed his relationship with Tish.
Mo must have sensed her attention, because he looked round. ‘Sorry, am I in the way?’ He made to move away from the counter.
She shook her head. ‘No, love, you’re fine where you are.’
He buttered the toast, added jam, piled it on the plate, hooked the two mugs with his fingers. ‘Is it all right to take this upstairs?’
He really did need to stop being so polite – but it was still nice to be asked. ‘Of course, love. Say ’bye for me – I’m off to work.’
‘Will do.’ He stepped over Harley and disappeared back upstairs.
Sal scratched Harley’s head for a minute or two before heading off to work, glad to her core that the accident had brought Mo into their lives.
Chapter 61
HARRY HAD been surprised to get her request to visit, but he’d agreed to it straight away.
Now here she was, weaving her way around the tables towards him. She’d never been able to walk into a room without causing a stir; Tish had always had the capacity to attract attention. It wasn’t just her looks, it was the way she carried herself – her ability to feel comfortable with the attention. She was happy to be admired. But the Tish who came through the doors into the visitors’ room was different. Now she didn’t so much own the space around her as pass through it. She slid in between the tables and chairs as if trying to create the least disturbance possible. The other men checked her out, but she kept her eyes down, avoiding their attention until she made it over to his table. Only then did she look up.
Harry made himself smile. Tish met his eye, but didn’t smile back. Harry felt on edge. There was too much history between them, and at the same time not enough. He didn’t know why she’d come, after all this time. When she sat down and shrugged off her jacket and said nothing, neither, it seemed, did she.
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’ Around them greetings were being exchanged and conversations picked up where they’d been left a week, a fortnight, a month ago.
Tish swallowed and, despite his best intentions, Harry found himself looking at the scar on her jawline. She looked good, but not the same. Conscious of his gaze, her hand travelled to her face.
He felt ashamed. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s okay. Everybody looks. You get used to it.’
‘How are you doing?’
‘Okay.’
‘Good.’
She looked away at the couple next to them. The woman was leaning across the table, her big breasts filling the small space, sucking the face off her man. A proper, full-blooded snog. Across the room one of the prison officers stood watching their display, poised to intervene, but either through indifference or kindness he let them have their moment.
When Tish looked back at Harry, there was a spark of something that was more like the old Tish in her eyes. ‘Good to see that romance isn’t dead after all.’
Harry just about managed to compose a second small smile, but it was a feeble attempt. He knew what she was reminding him of. But there was no point going there. Not now. That was another life – a life that was long gone for both of them. A wave of pity, for himself and for Tish, rolled over Harry. He hung his head.
‘Hey,’ she prompted. He looked up. ‘I’ve not come to cause you grief. Well, not much. I came because I want to ask you some questions. And I need you to be straight with me when you answer them.’
‘Okay.’ He owed her that.
She shuffled in her seat, drawing herself more upright, making herself more present. ‘First off, I want to know why you never said anything about us.’
He had known this was probably why she’d come. His promise mattered. No more lies. That was the deal he’d made in the dark, long hours of the night in his cell. It was one of the measures of him as a man – his own man, not some watered-down version of his dad, ducking and diving and coming up smelling of roses. And suddenly here was Tish, asking him for a truth that was complicated and that reflected badly on him. It was a test he had to pass.
‘I did. I told the police that Jess saw the video of us kissing.’
‘Is that all you said?’
Harry looked at her and couldn’t not remember. The memories were stuck fast inside him, corroded with a thick layer of shame, but still so strong. The attraction, the excitement of sneaking around, the fierce pleasure of the sex. Perhaps that was the way it would always be with Tish – that spike in his gut, which ran straight down into his groin. They could never just be friends. ‘Yes.’
‘But you didn’t tell the police about us…being together?
Harry understood her hesitation. For two years they’d been circling each other, coming together for intense, short bursts, then pretending nothing had happened, until it did again. Friends with benefits. What a fucking stupid phrase that was.
‘No.’
‘And you only told the police?
‘What do you mean?’
‘Harry. I want to know who else you told about us?’
‘No one.’
‘You never said anything to your dad?’
‘He knows about the video. But he thinks it was just a snog at a party.’
She flinched, then asked, ‘Martha doesn’t know?’ His expression was enough for that question not to require an answer. ‘And you never told any of your mates? No snide little comments?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Well, I wasn’t going to, was I?’ Cheating with your best mate’s girl – classic scumbag behaviour. Jake, or one of his brothers, would probably have smashed his face in. He would’ve deserved it.
‘What about Mo? He visited you, didn’t he? Last month. Did you talk about me?’ Her face flushed.