The Make

hearing voices. She wanted to get out of here, get away with George, before it got to that stage, so she was glad she’d made another date with him just now. George would be her salvation.

‘You cheat on me, you cunt, and I’ll kill you,’ roared Noel.

Sandy said nothing. It seemed safest. Nothing got through to him, anyway. She just nodded her head, which was starting to hurt with tension. She listened to him going back down the stairs, and swivelled her chair back towards the computer.

She wiped at her eyes. Her face was a hot, painful mass. She looked longingly at the blank screen. She wanted to go back online, talk to George, tell him what was happening, be reassured he loved her as much as she loved him. She knew he did, deep down, although he never said so. But she didn’t dare, not tonight. She was going to meet up with George on Thursday. She was just going to have to wait until then.

Chapter 44

Harry was sitting in Jackie’s kitchen. It was morning and they were having breakfast together, just like they often had before Em came back from Hong Kong. Emma had just gone out to the hairdresser’s. She’d met Harry just as he was arriving and she was leaving, and Jackie had come out into the hall to find them kissing. Now Jackie was placing the cafetiere on the table, smiling so widely she could hardly contain herself.

‘No need to look so smug,’ said Harry, but he was smiling too.

‘There’s every need,’ said Jackie, sitting down at the other side of the table and beaming across at him. She pushed the croissants towards him and he took one.

‘Did you set us up?’ wondered Harry aloud.

‘I just knew you’d be good together. I knew it,’ crowed Jackie happily.

Harry was breaking up the croissant, scattering buttery crumbs. His smile faded.

‘Jackie,’ he said seriously, ‘that’s all very well, but come on – what’s the point? Her life’s out in Hong Kong. And for God’s sake, get real. She’s so far out of my league we’re nearly on different bloody planets.’

Jackie poured out the coffee into two mugs.

‘Look, when I met Donald, my husband, he wasn’t from a well-to-do family. I was. My parents were furious when we fell in love. But it worked for us, despite all their opposition. We were blissfully happy for thirty-two years.’

‘Jackie, I don’t even have a proper job. I’m a flaming escort. What wife would want her husband doing that sort of thing for a living? How would I feel if she did it? Well, I’ll tell you. I’d be gutted.’

‘Wife?’ asked Jackie, bright-eyed. She paused with her mug halfway to her lips. ‘Harry . . . oh darling Harry, are you saying you want to marry my daughter?’

Harry held his hands up. ‘Now don’t go getting excited. I’m not going to. I wouldn’t have the fucking nerve.’

‘But you want to?’

‘I’ve wanted to ever since I first laid eyes on her.’

Jackie let out a scream of delighted laughter.

‘But I told you,’ said Harry sternly. ‘Hold it down to a dull roar. I’m not proposing. I’m going to let Emma go back to Hong Kong and get on with the life she should have. She could marry anybody. Someone who’ll give her the lifestyle she deserves. She don’t want to get tucked up with a loser like me.’

‘Harry, you’re not a loser. You’re the most charming, gorgeous, fabulous man.’

‘It’s not going to happen, Jackie. I mean it. You can scheme and rub your hands all you like, it ain’t going to happen.’

‘And you can pass in any company,’ Jackie was going on, as if he hadn’t even spoken. ‘You’re a very fast learner.’

‘No, Jackie.’

Jackie picked up a croissant, her cheeks pinkening. ‘And you’re a fantastic lover.’

‘Jackie.’ It embarrassed him to be reminded of that night he’d spent with her. He could see that it embarrassed her too, so why couldn’t she just let it drop?

‘Well you are. It’s nothing more than the truth.’ Jackie kept her eyes down as she tore off a bit of croissant and slathered it with conserve. ‘That night with you . . . well, it was a revelation. I didn’t think I’d ever want . . . sex . . . again, not after Donald. But you made me realize that I was still a fully functioning woman, Harry. You were so kind, and so gentle, and, let’s face it, so very sexy too.’

‘Jackie.’ Now he was beyond embarrassed. ‘We said we weren’t going to mention it, remember?’

‘I’m just saying,’ said Jackie. ‘You were marvellous in bed. And . . . I’d like Emma to know that sort of joy, Harry. I really would.’

Then the kitchen door swung open and Emma was standing there. Her face told the full story. She’d heard every word. She had her bag slung over her shoulder and in one hand she was holding her mobile phone. She looked down at it, then at the two of them, frozen at the kitchen table.

‘I forgot my phone,’ she said numbly. ‘I came back for it.’ Emma’s stricken eyes fastened on Harry’s face. ‘You swore to me,’ she said. ‘You swore that you didn’t . . .’

Harry couldn’t stand it. She looked devastated. He jumped to his feet, rushed over to her. ‘Em, it isn’t—’

‘Oh, are you going to say it isn’t what it seems?’ Emma took a step back, away from him. She was shaking her head, not wanting to believe it, but she’d just heard it. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? It’s exactly what it seems, Harry. You’ve slept with my mother and then you slept with me, and that’s damned disgusting.’

‘Em, it wasn’t like that,’ said Harry, reaching out for her, desperate to explain.

‘Don’t you dare touch me!’ she screamed, and lunged forward and slapped him, hard.

Harry fell back, his face white with the shock of it.

‘And as for you,’ Emma turned on her mother, ‘I can’t believe how you lied to me.’

‘Emma darling, no . . .’ started Jackie. ‘It shouldn’t have happened. It wouldn’t have, if I hadn’t been so much still in mourning for your father.’

‘Don’t drag Dad into this,’ said Emma, trembling with fury. ‘I can’t believe this of either of you. You’re like dogs in the street.’

‘For God’s sake, Emma,’ said Jackie.

‘Well you are. How could you do this to me, do that, and then lie about it?’

‘We had to lie about it, you silly mare,’ said Harry softly. ‘Jackie’s right. It shouldn’t have happened. But it did. And we knew how you’d react, that it would hurt you. So we agreed that you must never know.’

Emma’s mouth was quivering with emotion, bitterness in every line. Tears spilled over and made tracks down her cheeks. ‘Well, at least I know now what you’re really like, Harry Doyle,’ she snapped, her voice breaking. ‘What was it, a joke to you? Something to brag to your mates about? Do the mother and the daughter too? Is that it?’

Harry stood silent for a moment. He’d always known it was going nowhere, anyway. He’d have liked some time with her, at least, but that wasn’t to be. Maybe it was better – kinder and less painful – to end it quickly, like this. The love of his life, and she was going to bugger off back to Hong Kong and take his heart with her. But he’d live. He’d have to.

‘Yeah, now you know what I’m really like,’ he echoed. His cheek was throbbing, painful, where she’d struck him. He looked at Jackie, sitting there in pieces, tears starting to drip down her face, her eyes wild with distress. Not fifteen minutes ago she’d been so happy, so elated. ‘I’d better go,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ said Emma furiously. ‘Go on. Fuck off, Harry. You lying bastard.’