I Owe You One (Page 59)

I don’t know, are we?

I gaze at it, my temples throbbing. I don’t know how to reply. If I say yes, do I sound too complacent? Obviously I’m not going to say no. What I really want to say is, I don’t know, are we? but that sounds like I’m copying him.

The main thing, I tell myself, is that he replied. Within two minutes. So he’s thinking about me too. And maybe the best thing is not to text again yet but to call him later, only I must have an aspirin first …

I push open the door of the kitchen and nearly die of shock. Ryan is sitting at the kitchen table, scooping cereal into his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” I clutch the doorframe.

“Morning.” He shoots me a dazzling smile, but I don’t return it.

“What are you doing here?” I try again. “What— How—” I feel like I might be going mad. Is Ryan part of my dystopian fantasy? Have I conjured him up to torture myself?

“Jake gave me a key, said I could stay over in his old room.” Ryan winks suggestively. “He told me you wouldn’t be here; otherwise, I would have come visiting.”

“You’re vile.” I glare at him. “I want you out.”

“Give me a chance!” says Ryan, gesturing at his breakfast. “I haven’t finished! Although these cornflakes are pretty gross,” he adds, wrinkling his nose.

“They’re Nicole’s,” I say. “They’re spelt flakes.”

“You moron,” I want to add. “Can’t you read the packet?” But that would be engaging with him, when what I want is not to engage with him, ever again.

“Spelt,” he says thoughtfully, finishing his last mouthful. “Huh. Figures.”

“Go,” I say sternly. “Now.”

“So, how have you been?” He leans back in his chair, running his eyes over me in a way that would have had me melting on the floor once upon a time. “I’ve been hoping you might call me.”

He’s been hoping I might call him? I open my mouth, about six furious responses on my lips, then stop myself. Do not engage, Fixie. It’s what he wants.

“Go,” I repeat. “Just go.”

“I’m going!” He lifts his hands, looking amused. “Make me a coffee first, though.”

Make him coffee? Is he for real?

“Go! Leave! Vamoose!”

“Oh, I took some chewing gum out of your bag,” he adds, pointing to where my tote bag is hanging on a chair. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Go!” I say, and now I really am feeling enraged. I look around wildly, see the broom propped up against the wall, and pick it up. “Go! Out!” I start prodding it at him, trying to make him stand up. “Out!”

“Fixie, you’re hilarious,” says Ryan, finally standing up. “I’ll see you soon, babe.”

Babe? That’s the final straw.

Lifting up the broom like a jousting pole, I charge fiercely at him with a kind of war cry, and he gives a jump of surprise, then half-walks, half-runs, as I prod him bodily down the hall.

“Go!” I’m shouting. “Leave and never come back! You are not allowed in this house!”

“Looking good, Fixie,” he says, as I shove him out of the door. “I’ll call you.”

“Please don’t! Ever!”

I slam the door shut. Then I lean against it, panting slightly and even starting to laugh as I remember his expression when I charged at him. He was actually a bit freaked out.

At last I head back into the kitchen, take my aspirin, and sit for a bit, letting all the events of yesterday swirl round my brain. Leila, weeping into her manicure set. Uncle Ned, spluttering at me in rage. Morag, I suddenly think. Oh God. I need to sort out Morag. And Jake … and is Mum OK?

I’m still sitting there, in a bit of a trance, when the door opens and Jake strides in. I gape at him, feeling I must be in a dream. First Ryan, then Jake? He’s dressed as smartly as ever, in a well-cut suit and tie, but his face is shocking. He looks drawn and pale and there’s an angry jut about his chin, as though he wants to smash the whole world.

“Where’s Ryan?” he says.

“Gone.” I’m not going to admit I threw Ryan out, because Jake looks like he wants to lay into someone and he might take it out on me. “So, if you wanted to see him—”

“I don’t,” he cuts me off. He paces over to the window and I watch in silence. His whole body is twitchy, I notice. He pushes a trembling hand through his hair, then turns to face me and just looks at me, and I know what he means. He means: “You know.”

“I saw Leila last night,” I say, to get it out in the open.

He nods briefly. “She told me.”

“Jake—”

“It’s all fucking bollocks. It’s all—” He breaks off, breathing hard. It makes me remember him kicking the can around the street when he was a teenager, railing at everything.

“Jake …” I close my eyes briefly, trying to marshal my thoughts and get rid of my remaining headache. “How much trouble are you in?”

For a while Jake doesn’t answer. He pours himself a glass of water and drains it, his head tilted back. I watch him, mesmerized by his Adam’s apple moving up and down, wondering what on earth he’s going to say next.

“You don’t need to know,” he says finally.

“Maybe I do! Jake, maybe this is the whole problem, that you’re not sharing this stuff!” My words tumble out in my eagerness to help. “We’re your family. We’re here for you. Whatever it takes, we’ll help you. Maybe go to see a debt expert, maybe get counseling—”

“I don’t need counseling,” he lashes back, and I bite my lip. “I need money.”

“You look knackered,” I say, with a wince. “You look like what you need most is sleep.”

“Sleep!” He gives a short angry laugh, and I see a vein throbbing at his temple again. Everything I say is making him cross, but I can’t stop.

“Why don’t you go and have a nap?” I venture. “And I’ll make some soup. And then we’ll sit down and make a plan.”

Just for a split second I think he might agree. There’s a flash of some deep-down emotion in his eyes and I feel as though I’ve got somewhere. But almost at once it’s gone. His guard is back up and he’s striding around the room again.

“I don’t need soup, or a plan, or any bullshit like that. I need cash.” He turns to me again, his face alive and urgent. “So here’s what you do. You go and see your rich boyfriend and you find me some money. Or a new business contact. Something.”

“What?” I’m so shocked, I actually laugh. “I can’t do that!”

“I need it.”

“Jake, I can’t.”

“I need it,” he repeats harshly. “If I can’t get some money soon, I’ll have to go to the guys who break your legs.”

I feel a stab of terror, and the ravens start to bat their wings as hard as they ever have, but I force myself not to cave in. Tough love. That’s what Seb advised. Block him out.

“There has to be another way.”

“I’ve tried every way!” he erupts. “You know what every businessperson needs, Fixie? A bit of luck. One little nugget of luck. Well, you’re going out with this guy Seb, and that’s my nugget of luck.”

“Seb and I had a row last night,” I contradict him. “I’m not even sure if we’re going out.”

“He owes you, though, doesn’t he?” Jake comes back instantly. “You saved his life or whatever? Leila told me the whole thing,” he adds, and I curse myself for blabbing about Seb last night, while Leila was finishing off my topcoat.

“He’s not rich,” I say. “He’s not. He manages money, that’s all. He’s not some flash guy; he’s not like all your millionaire friends.”

“He has access to money,” says Jake. “He knows people. And I’m desperate.” He comes over and brings his face close to mine. “Family first, Fixie. Do this for me. Or do you want to break up the family?”

“What do you mean, break up the family?” I say in horror.

“If you don’t do this for me, that’s it,” he says nastily. “The family’s broken. What, you’re going to watch your own brother sink? You think we can play happy family after that?”

He swings away and I breathe out, my head spinning, close to tears. I know what Seb said: tough love. But I’m not tough enough. I can’t block out Jake’s energy, his aggression.

I have a sudden memory of Mum’s voice: “Just don’t lose the shop, Fixie. Or let the family break up.” And I promised her. I pointed at the gateleg oak table in the dining room and said, “When you get back, we’ll be sitting around that very table to celebrate. The shop will be in great shape. And we’ll be a happy family.”

A wave of despair crashes over me. I’ve failed on every front. Morag’s threatening to leave. Profits are shaky. And now Jake’s going to break up the family. He’ll turn Nicole against me. Mum will come back to split-up, warring factions and she’ll be devastated.