‘No. Jesse’s collecting them. He’s working from home today.’
‘Oh. What does he do?’
‘He’s an architect.’ An abrupt laugh. ‘He’s the successful brother.’
‘Is he older than you?’
‘No, I’m the oldest. By twelve minutes.’
Sophie paused to consider. ‘You’re twins? Are you identical?’
‘No. Jesse’s got a beard.’
* * *
Sophie held the door and Sam lifted the pram plus sleeping baby up into the dark hallway, secured the brake then took a couple of backward steps. ‘I’d better be getting out of your hair.’ He fumbled in his trouser pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. ‘That’s my mobile number. If you ever need anyone to arrange flowers or help with an essay on postmodernism…’
‘You could help when she wakes up. We’ve got brioche, and Marmite and mozzarella.’
‘Oh. Do you think that’s… what with Jonah…?’
‘I’d rather not be on my own. My friend’s coming over later. But that’s not until…’
‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?’
* * *
Once again, they sat opposite one another, chatting about nothing and sipping tea. But periods of awkward silence began to assert themselves. Sophie wanted to ask him things, tell him things that would be inappropriate to tell a person she hardly knew. To start with she wanted to tell him that Jonah wasn’t Jonah. And she wanted to tell him… she peered at him over her cup and the words just happened. ‘He was leaving me.’
‘What? You mean Jonah? Jonah was leaving you?’
‘Yes. But he isn’t Jonah. He’s Robert.’
‘Robert?’
‘Yes. The whole five years we’ve been together, I’ve known him as Jonah Royston. But Jonah Royston doesn’t exist. He’s really Robert Perrin. And yesterday, just before the accident, he came home, packed his case and said he was leaving.’
Sam’s jaw seemed to suffer a momentary spasm. Then he recovered. ‘Sophie, why?’
‘Apparently, someone else came along. If you’re interested, I’ll tell you the whole weird story. Then when you’ve heard it, you can run straight out of the house, catch your train and never darken this kitchen table again. I won’t try and stop you. In fact, you can make a run for it now if you prefer.’
7
Sam stayed and Sophie told her tale of infidelity and brain damage. And Sam listened without interrupting. A couple of times he shook his head in disbelief but said nothing. She got as far as showing him Jonah’s driving licence and inaccessible iPhone, when a piercing scream from the hallway declared Laura’s disgust at being excluded.
Sam leapt to his feet. ‘Point me towards the Marmite. You fetch the girl.’
Four ounces of mozzarella, several brioches and a lot of Marmite later, Laura was back in her playpen and Sophie and Sam were beside one another, on the sofa, sharing a bottle of Pinot Grigio blush. With ice.
‘So,’ said Sophie. ‘You haven’t made a break for it?’
‘I was wondering if there was any more.’ He sat back and folded his arms. ‘Or if it was just a simple case of you being totally screwed over by a complete wanker. It’s bloody Pinteresque.’ He glanced over at Laura, who was trying to pick an embroidered eye out of Blue Bear. ‘Does he own any part of this house?’
‘No, it’s jointly mine and my sister’s. Josie lives in Cork. She grows cows. Well, she buys calves and sells them when they’re ready to eat. So, Jonah hasn’t any claim on the house. Although he did pay for the new bathroom.’
‘Well, he’d have a job taking that with him. Tell me, if he’d left you not knowing his real identity, you’d never have been able to chase him up for any support for Laura, right?’
‘I know the name of his company. And he said he’d send money.’
‘Nice guy. Sophie, what are you going to do about this long-term?’
Sophie had no idea what she was going to do about it any-term. Yesterday morning she’d been living with a man she thought she loved, but the last twenty-four hours had changed all that. It was as if Jonah had died. No, worse than that, it was as if he’d been erased from existence: past, present and future. All that remained of Jonah Royston was sitting there in her playpen: Laura Emily Royston. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do. He’s still Laura’s father. And when he comes out of hospital, this other woman might not want him any more.’
Sam stared at her. ‘Surely, you’d not let him move back in with you!’
‘I don’t know. He’ll have to go somewhere. There’s the address in Exeter. But perhaps it’s rented out.’ It occurred to her that his other woman might have been his tenant. Perhaps Jonah was her landlord. And that clinking-glass supper was just Jonah checking out… She could feel her bottom jaw wobbling, her glass being eased from her hand, Sam’s arm across her shoulder pulling her towards him. She didn’t resist. She just let herself lie against his fresh, spicy, warm shirt, sobbing out a few semi-coherent words. ‘You’d better go. I don’t want to drag you any deeper into my disaster.’
‘Too late. Think about it: how can you expect a Knight in Shining Armour, such as me, how can you expect me to leave you to sort your way through a mess like this? Besides, my students are on summer vac so I’ve got the next six weeks free. I was going to try reading War and Peace, but your story’s far more interesting. You can call me whenever you need moral support or someone to boil you an egg. And I’ll nip straight over.’
* * *
Sam stayed through the afternoon. At one point, Sophie left him watching Laura and adjourned to the garden to phone for an update on Jonah and to water her tomatoes. Intensive Care had obviously been informed of Jonah’s actual identity, therefore there was initial confusion as to exactly whom Sophie was asking about. Eventually, she was told that Jonah’s condition was unchanged. Presumably that meant his situation had not deteriorated; only her situation had done that. She filled her watering can and, as she did so, wondered at what point she would start to think of Jonah as Robert Perrin. Sam stepped outside to join her.
‘She’s still abusing Blue Bear. Any news?’
‘No change.’
He rubbed a tomato leaf lightly between his fingers then lifted them to his nose. ‘I really love the smell of tomato leaves, especially that twirly bit right next to the tomato.’
‘Obviously not a botanist, then?’
He smiled. ‘Jesse has allotted me a modest herb garden full of dandelions.’
She plucked a tiny tomato, handed it over and watched him pop it into his mouth. ‘Gardener’s Delight. The smell is due to the chemicals released when you break the tiny hairs on the leaves. Some of them act as insect repellents. What do you think?’
‘Delicious! You obviously have green fingers.’
‘I’d love to have a herb garden. Mint and marjoram and masses of chives with their pinky-purple flowers. But Jonah hates smells so I have to grow unscented plants. And I have to pick the tomatoes and remove their twirly calyx and store them outside until the smell goes away.’