One Plus One(77)
Author: Jojo Moyes

He straightened up and reached for his phone. ‘Odd. I’m sure Gem said the lunch was today. Let me check.’ He flicked through some messages, nodded, confirming it, then knocked again.

‘I’m pretty sure if anyone was there they would have heard,’ Jess said. The thought occurred, in passing, that it would be quite nice just for once to walk up to a house and have a clue what was happening on the other side of the door.

They started at the stuttering sound of a sash window being raised above their heads. Ed took a step back and peered up at next door.

‘Is that you, Ed?’

‘Hi, Mrs Harris. I’m after my parents. Any idea where they are?’

The woman grimaced. ‘Oh, Ed dear, they’ve gone to the hospital. I’m afraid your father took ill again early this morning.’

Ed put his hand up to his eyes. ‘Which hospital?’

She hesitated, as if she couldn’t believe he didn’t know.

‘The Royal, dear. It’s about four miles away if you head for the dual carriageway. You want to go left at the end of the road …’

He was already stepping away. ‘It’s okay, Mrs Harris. I know where it is. Thank you.’

‘Give him our best,’ she called, and Jess heard the window being pulled down. Ed was already opening the car door.

They reached the hospital in a matter of minutes. Jess didn’t speak. She had no idea what to say. At one point she ventured, ‘Well, at least they’ll be glad to see you,’ but it was a stupid thing to say and he was so deep in thought that he didn’t seem to hear. He gave his father’s name at the information desk and they traced him to Victoria Ward. ‘You know where Oncology is, yes?’ the receptionist added helpfully, looking up from her screen. Ed flinched visibly at the word.

They entered a steel lift and travelled up two floors. The doors opened, and the sign for the ward was in front of them. Ed gave his name on the intercom, cleaned his hands with the antibacterial lotion by the door and, when the doors finally clicked open, she followed him through.

A woman walked down the hospital corridor towards them. She was wearing a felt skirt and coloured tights. Her hair was cut in the short feathery style that women use when they insist they’re too busy to worry about their hair.

‘Hey, Gem,’ he said, slowing as she drew near.

She looked at him, disbelieving. Her jaw dropped and for a moment Jess thought she was going to say something.

‘It’s good to s–’ he began. From nowhere, the woman’s hand shot out and she smacked him hard. The sound actually echoed down the corridor.

Ed staggered backwards, clutching his cheek. ‘What the –’

‘You f**king wanker,’ she said. ‘You f**king, f**king wanker.’

The two of them stared at each other, Ed lowering his hand as if to check for blood. Her jaw was clenched, as if she were waiting for him to say something, do something, but he did nothing.

She shook her hand then, staring at it as if she had surprised herself, and then after a moment, she held it gingerly towards Jess. ‘Hello, I’m Gemma,’ she said.

Jess hesitated, then shook it carefully. ‘Um … Jess.’

She frowned. ‘The one with a child in need of urgent help.’

When Jess nodded, she looked her up and down slowly. Her smile was weary, rather than unfriendly. ‘Yes, I rather thought you might be. Right. Mum’s down the end, Ed. You’d better come and say hello.’

‘Is he here? Is it Ed?’ The woman’s hair was gunmetal grey, pinned up in a neat twist. ‘Oh, Ed! It is you. Oh, darling. How lovely. But what have you done to yourself?’

He hugged her, then pulled back, ducking his face when she tried to touch his nose, and giving Jess the swiftest sideways look. ‘I … I walked into a door.’

She pulled him close again, patting his back. ‘Oh, it is so good to see you.’

He let her hold him for a few minutes, then gently disentangled himself. ‘Mum, this is Jess.’

‘I’m … Ed’s friend.’

‘Well, how lovely to meet you. I’m Anne.’ Her gaze travelled briefly over Jess’s face, taking in her bruised nose, the faint swelling on her lip. She hesitated just a moment, then perhaps decided not to ask. ‘I’m afraid I can’t say Ed’s told me an awful lot about you but he never does tell me an awful lot about anything, so I’m very much looking forward to hearing it from you.’ She put her hand on Ed’s arm and her smile wavered a little. ‘We did have a rather nice lunch planned but …’

Gemma took a step closer to her mother and began rummaging around in her handbag. ‘But Dad was taken ill again.’

‘He was so looking forward to this lunch. We had to put Simon and Deirdre off. They were just setting out from the Peak District.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jess said.

‘Yes. Well. Nothing to be done.’ She seemed to pull herself together. ‘You know, it really is the most revolting disease. I have to work quite hard not to take it all personally.’ She leant into Jess with a rueful smile. ‘Sometimes I go into our bedroom and I call it the most dreadful names. Bob would be horrified.’

Jess smiled at her. ‘I’ll give it a few from me, if you like.’

‘Oh, please do! That would be wonderful. The filthier the better. And loud. It has to be loud.’

‘Jess can do loud,’ Ed said, dabbing at his lip.

There was a short silence.

‘I bought a whole salmon,’ Anne said, to nobody in particular.

Jess could feel Gemma studying her. Unconsciously she pulled at her T-shirt, not wanting her tattoo to show above her jeans. The very words ‘social worker’ always made her feel scrutinized, as if the woman had already worked out where Jess came from and was assessing her.

And then Anne had moved past and was holding out her arms. The hungry way she pulled Ed to her again made Jess wince a little. ‘Oh, darling. Darling boy. I know I’m being a terrible clingy mum but do indulge me. It really is so lovely to see you.’ He hugged her back, his eyes raising to Jess’s briefly, guiltily.

‘My mother last hugged me in 1997,’ murmured Gemma. Jess wasn’t sure she was aware that she had said it out loud.

‘I’m not sure mine ever did,’ Jess said.

Gemma looked at her as if she’d forgotten she was there. ‘Um … about the whole whacking-my-brother thing. He’s probably told you what I do for a living. I just feel obliged to stress that I don’t usually hit people.’