to say?’
He sounded oddly defeated, and his shoulders sagged. I hated seeing him like that. He was my Jack, king of the world, who could sort out anything. Worst of all was the feeling that the person who’d brought him to this was me.
‘This isn’t the way home,’ I said suddenly, startled.
‘You don’t live there any more. I’m taking you to my place.’
‘But Grandad—’
‘He’s already there. I went to see him at the address you gave me as soon as I left the prison yesterday.’
I made an amazed gesture, which he understood.
‘He was a little surprised, since you’d never mentioned me to him,’ he said. ‘But I told him what was happening, and we packed up and went.’
‘How is he?’
‘I found him fairly depressed. That’s why I took him with me at once. I thought the less time he spent alone brooding the better.
‘You mean he stayed at your place last night?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Jack, what did you tell him?’
‘Just that you worked on my boat. For all he knows you were a waitress. But we didn’t talk much. We just got drunk.’
This was becoming more surreal every moment. I tried to imagine their meeting at our shabby little home, and in the end I gave up.
Nor could I picture Jack getting drunk. Grandad, yes.
The phone rang again. He answered impatiently, said, ‘I’ll be there in an hour,’ and hung up.
We were in the heart of Mayfair now, gliding through residential streets that were quiet and unobtrusively wealthy. We stopped in front of an apartment block and I waited for him to get out. But he seemed frozen, staring at the floor as though lost in an unhappy dream.
‘Why did you do it?’ he said at last.
‘I told you why in my letter. I had to go, and now surely you must know why?’
‘There could have been a way around it if only you’d trusted me. Now—’ He gave a dispirited shrug.
I knew what he was saying. It was too late—now. He was helping me for old times’ sake, but he didn’t want me to think it had anything to do with love.
I hastened to assure him that I had no such illusions.
‘There was no way around it, Jack. I told you then. You can’t be part of my life and I can’t be part of yours. It was nice of you to come to my rescue, but the end still has to be the same. Of course if I go to jail there won’t be any prob—’
‘That’s enough!’ he said violently, seizing my shoulders. ‘Don’t ever talk like that. Do you hear me? I forbid it.’
He shuddered, and I felt it go through his hands to my own flesh.
‘I won’t let it happen,’ he said. ‘Do you understand that?’
I reached up and took one of his hands, holding it between mine.
‘Perhaps even Bully Jack can’t manage this,’ I said.
‘If he can’t, he isn’t good for much. You’re not going back to that place. You have my solemn word. Do you believe me?’
‘Yes,’ I said, almost hypnotised.
His face was blazing with fervour, and for a moment I could imagine him capable of anything. He could save me and Grandad. He could overturn the whole world.
‘Della, if you believe in me—’
His voice was shaking. He would have said more but his phone rang again. It broke the spell, forcing him to seize it and answer with an edge on his voice.
‘I’ll deal with it as soon as I get in this afternoon.’
He opened the car door quickly, before the phone could ring again, and we entered the building. His flat was on the third floor, and we went up in the lift, neither speaking nor looking at each other. After that brief, intense moment in the car we were both awkward.
As soon as I went in and saw Grandad I forgot everything else. He came flying to meet me, as he’d done on the day I came home, and we hugged each other silently. Jack didn’t look at us, but went into another room to make a phone call. When he came out he spoke briefly.
‘I have to leave now. Della, have something to eat and make yourself at home. Your grandfather will show you where everything is. I’ll see you later.’
He was gone. Grandad and I hugged again. We’d seen each other only last week, when he’d visited me, but it was as though we’d been apart for months.
At last he wiped his eyes and sniffed.
‘Last time it was me welcoming you home from jail,’ I said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
He straightened up. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea, luv.’
‘Yes, please. Prison tea is horrible.’
‘You’re telling me. You should try what they serve in—’
We slid easily into a discussion of prison tea that we had known, and that got us over the next few minutes. He bustled about in Jack’s kitchen, already at home.
‘Baked beans on toast,’ he said, knowing that was my favourite. ‘I bought the beans specially for you this morning.’
While he cooked I looked around. Jack had made this place sound small, but maybe his idea of small wasn’t everyone else’s. It was light and spacious, with two bedrooms, a large bathroom, an office and one big living room.
‘That’s your room,’ Grandad said, pointing.
It had a double bed and was furnished with discreet luxury in various shades of brown and fawn.
‘Where are you sleeping?’ I asked him.
I followed his finger and opened the door of the other bedroom, where there were two single beds.
‘Grandad—?’
‘Him and me have to share, luv. There’s nowhere else. I don’t mind.’
‘You don’t—?’
‘As long as he doesn’t snore.’
‘He doesn’t snore,’ I said defensively.
Grandad nodded in a satisfied way. ‘I thought you’d know about that.’
‘I’ll throw a baked bean at you in a minute.’
He
