She’d not believed Jamie about not adversely judging other choices to his own, and yet Laurie was forced to admit here was a powerful corroboration.
And it was obvious they were honest to goodness, best mates, from the sibling-like shorthand between them, and Hattie’s casually worn and yet contemporaneous knowledge of the inner workings of Salter’s.
‘Oh, why’s that?’ Laurie said, thinking: 1. Black 2. Too old 3. Not glamorous enough.
Hattie slopped her drink from side to side. ‘Don’t be offended, as I’m clearly saying you’re not like this, but I expected a trophy girl who’d spend the night studying her gel manicure and messaging her friends about how basic we all were. The sort who posts those Boomerangs of clinking flutes with her Mean Girls.’
Hattie mimed a repetitive backwards and forwards motion with her glass and a strained Miss World full teeth smile, and Laurie hooted.
‘Haha! I’m not a trophy, agreed,’ Laurie grinned.
‘No, you are. But one with real value. I thought Mrs Jamie would be a princessy madam, that’s all.’
‘Is that because you think Jamie is a princessy madam?’ Laurie said, but with a conspiratorial smile to make it clear she wasn’t laying traps.
‘Hah! Nooo, well, he has that side to him, for sure,’ Hattie said, and Laurie could see by how slow her blinking was, and the slight fuzz of the edges of her speech, that she was considerably drunker than Laurie. She would probably cringe at having said this in the morning. ‘He’s always had this other, much better side to him. More serious, more reserved. Almost fiercely moral, actually. You fit with that.’
‘Has he not brought girlfriends home before?’
Hattie looked gobsmacked. ‘He’s not told you this? No, never. To the point where Eric and Mary were told he must be a comfort to his mother, lifelong bachelor, if you know what I mean. No. That’s why I couldn’t believe my eyes when he was posting photos with you. I mean, that is like posting wedding banns, for Jamie.’
‘Wow!’ Laurie said, fraudulently, thinking Hattie must have heard his views on settling down, but was tactfully skirting round them with his new love.
‘He was terrified of commitment,’ Hattie said. ‘But clearly he’s got over it.’
‘Ah well. I’m not … you know. Putting too much pressure on it.’
‘But you’re in love with him, right?’
‘Uhm … yes.’
‘He’s madly in love with you. I can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he’s so affectionate with you. I’ve never seen him like this before. He’s transformed.’
Laurie grit-smiled, frowned and necked the rest of her vodka in one.
‘I fell in love with him when we were twelve, you know,’ Hattie said. ‘Then right through our teenage years.’
Laurie thought, hoo boy. She’s wrecked. She might not even remember saying this. ‘Really?!’
‘Yeah. Nothing ever happened, I should say,’ Hattie waved a hand emphatically, ‘Or we’d not be such good mates now. But yeah, I was in love, and he let me down gently. He could’ve so easily exploited it, and he didn’t. That is the side of himself he keeps under wraps. When you’re his friend, he will go to the ends of the earth for you, and he won’t tolerate anyone being damaging towards you. Whatsoever.’
‘Right.’
‘Maybe that’s why he doesn’t make many friends, looking after people that much is a burden.’
Laurie nodded. So, she’d been right, earlier, when she saw worry flit across Jamie’s face. He didn’t want there to be any obligations, after this was finished. This was strictly business, not pleasure, however intimate it might feel at times.
‘And,’ Hattie continued, ‘of course, you know what happened with his bro—’
Jamie approached them.
‘I like her, can we keep her,’ Hattie said, grabbing Laurie and planting a sloppy vodka kiss on her cheek.
‘Uh oh. Have you been dropping me in it, as per Hats?’
‘Would I.’
He ruffled her hair.
‘In a strange inversion, I’m done in and having to drag my parents home,’ Jamie said, ‘Would you be up for heading back together?’
Laurie agreed readily, she didn’t have another drink in her. Jamie had stayed away from her for the last forty-five minutes and Laurie understood why, and was grateful. The previous tension needed to dissipate.
‘It was so good to meet you,’ Hattie said, encircling her waist, smushing her face into Laurie and kissing Laurie’s left breast, having evidently missed her intended target of ‘slightly above her left breast.’ ‘I can tell you and I are going to be huge friends. I’m slightly psychic in that respect.’
‘You and my hairdresser both.’
‘Really? What did she predict that came true?’ Hattie said, peering through the one eye she could still open.
‘… Ah,’ Laurie regretted this remark now. ‘Nothing yet.’
‘Hattie is similarly unencumbered by a track record of success,’ Jamie interjected.
‘I told you, it’s feelings, sensations. Maybe, visions! Like, I can see you and Laurie with a toddler. A boy! Bringing him back here to visit. It’s cold weather, he’s in a coat …’
Laurie swallowed hard.
‘Alright, enough from mystic you,’ Jamie said, briskly. ‘I can see a vision of you with a hangover tomorrow, how’s that.’
29
‘Your speech was really nice,’ Laurie said, to Jamie’s dad, as they sat with nightcap whiskies in the over-stuffed, homely front room with the wood-burning fire, then winced at the cutesome inadequacy of ‘nice’.
‘Thank you, Laurie. It was from the heart.’
‘When are you going to tell them all?’ Jamie’s mum asked him. This was the first time the cancer had been directly mentioned in front of Laurie.
‘I might not,’ Eric said, sinking back into his chair. ‘Let them read the news in the obit column of the Lincolnshire Echo and say: “That sneaky bastard!”’
‘That’s not fair on me, they’ll be pestering me for the story for weeks on end,’ Mary said. ‘It’ll take me an hour to make it across Co-op when I need a loaf of bread.’
‘Yeah, you have to think of Mum here,’ Jamie said.
‘Oh God, even when you’re dying you don’t get out of the To Do list, Laurie, can you believe it!’ Eric said. Laurie smiled and wished her heart didn’t feel so waterlogged that she found it difficult to match his lightness, and be who they needed. She didn’t want Eric to go. The world could do with more Erics, and fewer of other people.
‘Ahhhh it was good to see everyone though. Mary, can you believe the mop on Ronald Turner! Bald as coot a few short months ago and now he’s had plugs. Cutting about with that lounge lizard’s quiff like he’s Bryan Ferry. Talk about straining credulity.’
There was some discussion about the unexpectedly luxuriant hairline of Eric’s former boss and then he said, ‘He’s an avid churchgoer, Ron. I wish I had faith. I wish I thought I was going to see Joe again.’